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lavenderleahy · 16 days

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Buck scans the reception venue, eyes finally landing on Tommy. He's is sitting at an otherwise empty table in the back of the venue, sipping on punch and staring off in the distance. As Buck jogs over to him, Tommy notices him and his eyes lift with the hint of a smile. Buck slides into the chair nearest to him, hunching over earnestly.

"Tommy, hey. I'm so sorry. I did not mean to ditch you for half the wedding."

"Hey it's all good," Tommy shrugs. "You've got your priorities. Maddie needed you. No one could've predicted the chaos of the day."

"Yes," Buck responds, placing a hand on Tommy's. "But I'm still sorry. I'd do anything for Maddie, but it still wasn't okay to desert you."

Tommy mirrors Buck's movements and places his other hand on top of his. Smiles gently. "Evan. I can hold my own at a wedding. I promise."

Buck glances down, then looks up at Tommy, smiling shyly. "It's just... it's only our second date and I've fucked up both of them."

Tommy laughs. A real, pleasant laugh. It makes butterflies dance in Buck's stomach.

"You've done nothing of the sort, Evan," Tommy responds. "Sure, everything with you is.... unexpected. But I like it."

Now the butterflies are doing somersaults. "Yeah?"

Tommy smiles and squeezes his hand reassuringly. "Yeah."

Buck beams. God, he's so nervous. Tommy makes him nervous. He still can't believe Tommy has given him another chance after their train wreck of a first date. He'd been thinking about the wedding for days beforehand, just wanting everything to go perfectly. Needless to say, it had not gone perfectly. Not even close.

But here Tommy still was, smiling at him, holding his hand, forgiving him anyways. He hadn't left in the chaos. He-

"You're staring." Tommy's voice interrupts his train of thought. He raises his eyebrows. "Like what you see?"

Fuck, Tommy's so confident. Of course he's confident. He's cool, and he's loyal, and he's willing to take risks, and he has a cleft, and - Buck can't stop himself. He reaches his hand up and gently grasps Tommy by the chin, his thumb on that dimple and his four fingers brushing against the stubble near his neck.

"I'm gonna kiss you now," he says, breathless.

Tommy doesn't say anything, just nods solemnly.

Buck leans in and closes the gap, brushing his lips against Tommy's. Immediately, there's electricity buzzing between them and he deepens the kiss. Their noses and foreheads are pressed against each other, their lips dancing in unison, and there's nothing, nothing that Buck would rather be doing right now. His right hand snakes around Tommy's neck and he pulls him in closer, impossibly closer. The kiss is perfect. Tommy is perfect. He never wants this kiss to end.

But Tommy pulls back, ending the kiss far, far too early. His face his flushed and Buck is proud to notice that he might be a little breathless, too. He stands up, and Buck's eyes follow him, wide and wondering.

"C'mon," Tommy says, offering a hand to Buck where he remains in the chair.

Buck puts his hand in Tommy's but he can't move. His mind is still reeling from the kiss. He wants to kiss Tommy again.

"You said you needed someone to dance with, right?"

This shakes Buck out of his stupor, and he laughs. "Yeah, I did," he says, rising to his feet. He lets his eyes meet Tommy's and steps forward into his space. "Let's dance."

#bucktommy #911 abc #911 speculation #evan buckley #tommy kinard #i was just thinking of the potential dynamics of tommy being buck's wedding date #and this is what happened #hope u enjoy tumblr #:)#im sorry if anything is ooc cause i'm very new to the fandom #i'm just really enjoying these boys and theor journey :')

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zuzu-draws · 3 months

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Fem! OG Sukuna :))

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oonwah13 · 4 months

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Happy birthday @ender1821 pookie 😋

#geminitay #pearlescentmoon #my friend really likes them a very definitely normal amount so i promised to draw them for their birthday #but im not familiar with them so sorry if its ooc or weird ect ect #i hope u like ur gift pookie #yay #yippee #:3 #shiny duo #oonwah13 fanart

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stergeon · 3 months

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enbarr, sometime in 1186:

ok so @frozenartscapes made this addition to my post about byleth and edelgard writing each other letters all the time, right:

well i kind of lost my mind and now we're here.

i'm sure this meeting is salvageable :0) hubert's sanity, however,

#fire emblem #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fe16 #edeleth #byleth eisner #edelgard von hresvelg #edelgard #byleth x edelgard #three houses #sterge.pptx #long post warning #haven't drawn comics in a good while lol #i guess it's good practice for hourly comic day this week #really hope this makes any sense and is remotely legible #i have yet to figure out how to get stuff to look half-decent when shrunk down for tumblr #boy i sure am glad i gave byleth emotions in my fic so i can have her make the dumbest expressions known to mankind #my half-baked Lore Reason is that she's not used to using her facial muscles yet so every expression is Extreme #there's no justification for why edelgard is like this. it's just funny #yeah it's all ooc but i'm a dyke with a pencil and i can do whatever i want

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dynjir · 1 year

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"A human..."

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Anyone remember Law of Talos? Castle of Nations?

I got hit by a wave of nostalgia today and was like hmm yeah, I could go for some Castle of Nation doodles rn and then somehow it ended up becoming a whole fan comic of how my fav characters potentially met :'D

#dynart #castle of nations #karl #rachel #unknown person #unknown-person #nightmargin this one's for you bud #UP if you ever end up seeing this I hope you're doing well!#also sry if I made your characters ooc asfjsldk #Karl's just really fun to draw and I wanted to draw him w/silly faces :')#lot #law of talos #well not really but it's adjacent

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starrylevi · 5 months

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hi! I’m new to your page but your writing is so skilled! So here I am requesting a Levi x reader post war, where the reader insist on taking Levi stargazing? And at some point the reader’s hand get cold and Levi insists on warming her up? Thank youuu! 🧡

Hi!! And welcome!!! You’re so very sweet, I truly don’t think so but thank you! This is such a cute request it kinda got away from me (in a good way) 😅 I hope it’s okay.

🌟 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

“Y’know this can be considered kidnapping,” Levi jokes from the passenger seat.

You place one hand over your chest, feigning shock as the other still grips the steering wheel. “I would never,” you continue before placing both hands back on the wheel. “Besides,” you briefly glance at him with a grin. “You came willingly.”

Levi saved you from a terrible fate, slicing the fingers off a titan before it had the chance to swallow you whole. After, you insisted that he come over to your place so you can make him a cup of tea. It’s the least you could do is what you told him. Levi’s not one to accept a gracious offer like this from a civilian but there was something about you that was inviting to him, and he couldn’t help but give in to his curiosity. You two spent the next hour talking. Well, it was mostly you doing the talking but you asked Levi questions and surprisingly he answered. After that initial meeting, you checked in on him from time to time. He got used to you popping in. Your visits became so frequent his squad knew you by name.

The rumbling followed shortly after and you didn’t hear from him for a little while. Of course you were worried. You surprised yourself, and him, by practically jumping on him the day he got back. Since then, you two have been closer than ever.

“Come on, you’re not even going give me the slightest hint?”

You fight back a chuckle as you answer. “Weren’t you a captain? Aren’t captains supposed to be patient?”

“I wouldn’t have gotten anything done as a captain if I were always patient now, would I?”

“Fair enough.” You look ahead at the road in front of you, appreciating the sight. It’s a nice evening, the sky has transitioned from a deep blue to an almost black. Sparkles of light are start to peek out.

“Stars.”

“What about them?”

“We’re going to see them.”

“I see them every night.”

“Not like this. We’re stargazing tonight.”

You drive down a deserted road; the light pollution fades away as you approach a lake. You see the brilliant shine of its water and smile.

“Okay, this should be fine.” You say before stopping the car. You don’t turn off the headlights so you can see what you’re doing. You grab Levi’s wheelchair from the bed of your truck and help him onto it before you wheel him right in front of the lake.

“Trying to drown me?” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“I would never drown Humanity’s Strongest Soldier.” You say with a little more admiration than you mean to. Levi hums in response and you take it as your cue to get your seat. “Be right back!”

You feel a steady breeze hit you as you walk to and from the truck. You approach Levi with your chair in tow. His head is tilted upwards, towards the sky.

“So…what do you think?” You ask him as you take your place next to him.

“Not bad.” He nods to himself, seemingly admiring the stars scattered above him.

“Right?” You smile, gently nudging him with your elbow as you take in the view yourself. Your eyes jump from star to star. “Can you spot any of the constellations?”

You glance at Levi and you can see him scanning over the pattern of the stars for a moment before finding a familiar sight. “Orion.”

“Good eye.” You smile but it quickly drops when you realize what you just said, not wanting Levi to think you’re making fun of him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“It’s alright.” Levi cuts you off with a small chuckle. “I only have the one. I’m grateful it can still do its job.”

You sigh, relieved, and go back to admiring the stars. You both sit there in comforting silence for a while. The breeze starts to pick up and you feel the uncomfortable chill prickle at your skin. You don’t want to be the reason you two back up and go home so you try to subtly blow warm air into your hands. That, of course, does not go unnoticed by Levi.

“Cold?”

“A little but it’s okay -“

As if by reflex, Levi places a gentle hand over your cold one.

“Does that help?” He asks you, his eyes seemingly say they hope it does and it’s hard for you to answer because he’s so warm?

Levi interprets your lack of response for you not wanting his hand on yours so he ends up quickly pulling back. “Sorry.” He says quietly, the lightest pink coloring his cheeks. However, that doesn’t stop him from trying to help you. “We can also share my jacket if that’s better.” He tries to drape it over both yours and his knees but it isn’t long enough.

“Levi-“

“I don’t need it, it’s fine. You can stick your hands under it.” He drapes it just over your knees.

“Levi…” You start slowly, a smile in your voice. “How about we just,” You pick up his wrist, creating an opening so you can lean into him. Levi looks a bit startled but he follows your lead and wraps his arm around your shoulder. “And now the jacket can cover both of us. Is that okay?”

“T-that works.” He breathes out before he covers the both of you with his jacket.

There’s another moment of silence before Levi speaks once again. “Thank you.” He utters quietly.

“For what?” You ask him as you stare up at the sky.

“Showing me the stars.” ✨

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eshithepetty · 1 year

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So.

This is it, mobsters.... our final stand. When the poll starts on @autismswagsummit, go....... do your part.

[Short ID: a comic pertaining to the autism swag summit, featuring Mob and Tome. Mob reveals that he feels insecure about how seriously everyone's been taking this, and how he's not sure he likes all this attention on him for it, but Tome argues and encourages him, saying that his could help him get Tsubomi's attention, since she's autistic herself, and might appreciate Mob being more confident about that. In the end, Mob brightens up, and gets pumped to win the bracket, before it's revealed that Tsubomi actually hopes Papyrus wins. End short ID]

Extended ID under cut:

[ID: a comic pertaining to the autism swag summit, featuring Mob and Tome. It's done in pink and orange tones, except for the last panel, which is purple.

First page: Mob sits down at the table in the telepathy club room, sighing. Tome, who is playing a video game and eating fries, looks at him and asks: "? What's wrong, Mob?" Mob looks to the side, eyes downcast, and says: "It's nothing really... it's just- the autism contest thing. Everyone's taking it so seriously but- idk. It feels weird. Like Mezato-san's cult thing, kinda." Tome, meanwhile, slides him the fries, and he takes one, and continues, "I don't think I like all this attention on me. Not for this." and Tome looks at him, chin on hand, and asks: "But wasn't that like, one of your main goals? To be popular?"

Second page: at this, Mob startles, and in the next panel he shrinks in as he replies "um- yeah, but. To be honest, I only wanted that to-" and shrinks even further in the next, blushing, trailing off with "to..." Behind him, there is the tapping of footsteps as Tome, off screen, rounds the desk, and makes Mob jump with a loud SLAM, and yells "LISTEN, MOB!" Then, she is looking at him with a frown, gesturing with one hand, and continues: "You need to look at this from a different perspective. What if this is the contest that winning would aid you the most? After all, isn't Takane herself autistic?" Mob, eyes wide and blushing, loudly interrupts with "S-SHE IS??"

Third page: Mob asks, "How do you know??" Tome, her arms crossed, eyes closed and a smirk on her face, says "Look. I'm autistic. You're autistic. We're ALL autistic, I know my kin, alright?" Under her breath, (under the speech bubble) she also adds "Plus I kind of heard her say "Leave me alone, I'm autistic" once," before she interrupts herself, her arms spread wide and flapping, with "but that's beside the point!" She continues in the next panel, only one of her moving hands visible as Mob looks up at her, wide-eyed, "My point is, maybe this is your chance to show her what you're all about; that you know who you are; are secure in your identity, proud of it, even!"

Fourth page: Tome crosses her arms again, a confident smirk on her face as she looks down at Mob and asks, "So tell me. What are you gonna do?" Mob, hunched in, shyly responds, ".... I'm gonna win...?" Off screen, Tome replies: "Say it with more confidence!" And Mob does, back straightening and a blush creeping in: "I- I'm gonna win!" Tome yells "Louder!", and Mob stands up, leaning on the table, yelling in response "I'm gonna WIN!!" And Tome, a fist pumped in enthusiasm, yells back "YEAH!!"

Last panel: Tome's dialogue box is cut off, as we see Tsubomi, meanwhile, laying in her bed, sucking a lollipop and phone in hand, as she thinks: "I hope papyrus wins." End ID.]

#autismsummit2023 #(this is before s3 finale if it wasn't obvious btw lol)#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #kageyama shigeo #tome kurata #tsubomi takane #art #comic #autistic swag summit #my own art #my own post #at this point i should just be known as 'that one mp100 bozo who always takes shitposts way too seriously' jsgdhdg #fun fact: originally i had tsubomi wish shadow wins but i changed it in case that becomes obsolete ;^^#i still think she'd absolutely root for shadow tho. i feel it in my heart #also during drawing this i realized mob doesnt... really share his worries so extensively like this with anyone but reigen?#so this might be ooc i guess?? but its for a silly tumblr bracket lmao its fine i think #but yeah!!!#o7 guys this is probably my last contribution to this saga. lets hope the final battle is valiant and good natured

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cosmosnout · 8 months

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Started randomly drawing these two and now I’m actually kinda invested

#I never actually got to play few3h💀#so idk i hope this isnt too ooc but either way i think they’d be really fun together #warriors if they actually let shez romance ppl📈📈#I take the aro shez rep tho #art #digital art #my art #fe3h #few3h #fire emblem #fire emblem 3 houses #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem warriors three hopes #fire emblem warriors 3 hopes #shez #claude #claude von riegan #also boy kisser claude<3 #claudeshez

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applejuicebegood · 3 months

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All My Love - Platonic!Gaz x Teammate!Reader

Fem!Reader

Summary: Stressing over the cooking for that evening and bad memories, Y/N finds Gaz who talks them through what their feeling. A/N: Wrote this for the very sweet @midnights-song and @kaoyamamegami for their very kind words on my last fic. This one is a sorta fallow up, please enjoy! Masterlist

Cw: Descriptions of absent + alcoholic mother, mentions of PTSD-related flashbacks, elder-child syndrome Word Count: 1960

The smell of cedar smoak and garlic clung to your hands and hair. A dull ache snaked its way up the back of your knees and into your thighs. Wringing your hands with a damp tea-towel you looked over your kitchen, the results of your labour tucked away in the humming oven and boiling on the stove top. Flour and spices swirled together across every vacant surface, oil-stained pots and bowls crowded your skink, and potato skins and egg shells were crowded in a pile across from the filled compost bin you were meaning to take outside to feed to your chickens. You puffed out a long breath, resting your wrists on your hips. You had finally finished all of the cooking for tonight's supper for your teammates.

Your experience with cooking has been relegated to that of your small family. The distant memories of your aunts and grandmothers crowded in the same kitchen where you stood now, knives and peelers making quick work of the harvested meat and potatoes your farm had cultivated. It was the only thing you recalled as you struggled to discern the cramped handwriting of the recipes left behind by your family. Their jovial laughing and quick gaelic speak now distant memories carved into the cabinets and countertops. Smeared on the vintage china and cast iron skillets hung on the oak walls. If you stayed still and concentrated enough you could remember the feeling of your grandmother's rough palm on your supple cheek and her lips on your forehead. The smell of milk and wheat wafting through your senses.

You were much younger then. Your fingers easily slipping onto the knife's blade and your wrists burned from boiling pasta water. You needed to use your baby sister's step stool to stand over the cutting board properly. Your mother was too busy passed out on the couch with a bottle of whiskey slipping from her limp grasp to worry about feeding her children. You were the eldest, therefore it became your job to try and emulate the effortless dance you watched your female relatives perform every holiday season or family reunion.

Now you were quicker, easily controlling the tools in your scarred, tattooed hands. Your time in the military proved helpful in quickening your reaction speed, allowing you to cut through the squash and potatoes faster than before. You had begun the cooking process that morning, refusing the offered help from your teammates. Insisting that guests shouldn’t be expected to cook and that you could handle it. And you could, although it resulted in the ache in your thighs spreading into your lower back, causing a hushed groan to escape from your throat as you tugged at the roots of your hair.

You quickly turned at the harsh thumping of boots on the creaking wooden stairs. Drawn out of your spiralling stupor.

‘Holy.. smells fucking amazing in here lass..’ ‘Language! Johny!’ You say through clenched teeth, motioning to the living room couch where your baby sister was supposed to be sitting next to your captain. The volume of the football game on the TV turned down. Johnny winced in apology, hushing his booming voice to a whisper. ‘Sorry.. Sorry, here you go sit.. I’ll clean’

Johnny says after looking you over and taking the towel from your hands. Your team had gotten good at noticing when exhaustion or strain worked its way into each other's bodies. Your hunched shoulders and wide eyes giving away your building stress. ‘Oh Johnny no.. you don’t have too-’ ‘Yea.. yea, Go sit lassie.. After mak’in all this food I’m surprised you're still standing’ Johnny says ushering you to the living room before patting your shoulder and turning to find a starting point in the stack of dishes.

You sigh. The instinct of obeying your higher ranking sergeant hadn’t seemed to wear off yet. Walking to the couch you expected to have your little sister squeal and jump into your arms. Only to find her little body curled against your captain’s side. Her hands bunched up under her chin, the delicate skin of her eyelids shut. Price’s head rested on the back of the couch with his arms stretched out over the cushions, his mouth slightly agape. You quietly leaned down to brush your sister's forehead, as if in response she snuggled her cheek against Price’s side at your touch, not wanting to be woken up just yet. Price twitched in his sleep, pulling Emi closer against him. You kissed the side of her head, pulling the knitted blanket up over her shoulders and across your captain's lap. The warm prick of relief spread across your skin at the realization that your baby sister had grown comfortable enough to fall asleep in the circle of your captain's embrace. Hoping that she had found someone other than you to admire and emulate.

You made your way to the back porch, pulling on a leather overcoat to protect your warmth from the bite of the winter air. As you swung the glass door open, the brush of cold against your warm cheeks soothed you, your breath clouding up in front of you. You looked out onto the backyard of your farm, a few metres of blanketed gardening space trailing out to the fenced off cliff side. The clothesline pole used in the warmer months stood to the right, the cable attached to the house swinging in the swirling wind. The fence built to keep your cows and sheep and your sisters from roaming too close to the cliff edge poked out from the dull white snow. Past the drop of land, you could see the storm-grey waves churning and thrashing against each other like fighting children. Stretching further into the distance. You slowed your breathing and shut your eyes, trying to test if you could hear the water slap against the cliff side. When you were little, you would climb through the wire fencing and peer over the cliff's edge, never realizing how if you took only a few more steps death would embrace you like the waves embraced the fistfulls of grass and pebbles you would toss over the edge. Sometimes you wished you could return to that state of not even being afraid of falling from a cliff face.

‘Hey.. Y/N?’ ‘Oh! Kyle.. shit you scared me!’

The jolt of surprise at Gaz’s voice ran up your spine and over your chest. In your daze, you didn’t realize Gaz settled on the porch's couch, a book from the living room shelf open in his lap. The deck held a few mismatched outdoor chairs and a couch, crowded with old throw pillows and spear blankets. Small metal lanterns hung overhead, painted and decorated by your sisters when they were both in primary school. The dwindling candle light gently swayed over Gaz’s smooth brown skin, a warm break from the multitude of grey stretching out before you.

‘Heh sorry, here.. Sit. You look like you need a break’ Your boots scuffed against the deck floor as you settled yourself by Kyle. You tucked your legs up underneath you with a groan. The pain settling in your legs. You were still fixated on the blurred horizon line stretching beyond the haze of clouds that were beginning to roll in from the town harbour. Gaz’s presence beside you blurring like the apparent ending of the surrounding oceans. ‘Hey.. you alright?’ Gaz asked with the snap of his book shutting. ‘Yeah.. yeah of course.. Just, just thinking about.. Ya know, I mean… I-I just want things to be good for you guys’ You say, looking up at him. Folding your arms over your chest. ‘What.. What do you mean? Y/N.. things have been perfect, I honestly don’t know what else you could do to make this trip more enjoyable’ ‘I know.. I mean- I think, I don’t know Gaz.. I just worry that.. that this isn’t.. Ugh! I don’t even know what i’m saying’ You chuckle, gripping your head as you run a hand through your hair. Glancing at Gaz you notice him scratching the jagged scar on his forearm.

It was during a mission in your last deployment that an enemy soldier split his skin open with a combat knife. Your stitches were frantic and clumsy, being that you were in the back of a moving helicopter for the evac and you had to watch the consciousness drain out of your friend's face. You noticed how as the cut started to heal Gaz would scratch at the scar absently, something that annoyed you being that it would remind you that the split wouldn't be so gnarled had you been able to keep your shaking hands steady. ‘You really have no clue how to stop worrying..’

His tone was sad, grey like the ocean waters.

‘Worrying ‘bout you lot is my job.. It’s not something I can just.. Turn off’ You were frustrated, picking at the loose threads of the embroidered pattern lacing around your skirt. ‘I get that. I had that during my first break home, not being able to remember how to.. Ya know.. Be normal. To be a person and not a soldier. God, it would drive Ma mad, how I could only get up at five in the morning and.. Ya know.. The flashbacks’ You watched him as he talked, his rich brown eyes cast down at his hands. ‘There really isn’t a proper way to “be normal”, not after what you've been through, what you’ve seen. But that's not something you have to figure out on your own.. I mean hell, most of us would be dead if you weren't on this team Y/N’ ‘Ha.. I know’ ‘Exactly, what I mean is.. You've got people around you who would do anything for you. And we are probably the only ones who know what it’s like to be stuck in trying to remember who you were before deployment. It’s something we’ve all experienced, so don’t you believe for a second you should go through it by yourself.’ Gaz leaned forward, placing his hand on your knee. You instinctively took his fingers into your own, his hands cold. You forced yourself to meet his eyes, gently nodding your head. Your smile tight, trying to hold back the growing dampness in the corners of your eyes. You squeezed his hand, running your thumb over his knuckle. He squeezed your fingers back, a silent language you shared when words were too daunting to put together. You always found it shocking how this kind of comfort felt like it was being directed at someone else. Like it was a puzzle piece ripped in half, it could still fit in the piece but it appeared foreign. You weren't used to it, and how easily it appeared to flow from Gaz. In his words and in his viable willingness to help you. The unusual sensation of being understood made it hard to express your gratitude for it, Gaz knew this. Which is why you both sat there, in a shared understanding only the both of you as colleagues and friends could have. ‘You smell great by the way’

His blunt comment caused a ripple of laughter to fall from your lips, a tear drifting down the bridge of your nose. ‘You dick..’ You scoffed, leaning your head onto his shoulder, tucking your arm under his.

‘Do aingeal den sórt sin’

You mumble, directing your attention back to the grey horizon line. ‘What does that mean..?’ Gaz asks, following your gaze outwards. You respond with a simple sigh. The stress and aching dissipated for the moment, something you didn’t want to risk losing with your supposed inability to properly thank Gaz for his tenderness and care.

A/N: ‘Do aingeal den sórt sin’ translates to 'your such an angel' in Irish Gaelic

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sillyclowny · 11 months

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happy pride month for you people (and for the early pre-metadede stage and their repressed homosexual rage)

#I didn't do a proper pride month art I'm so sorry #anyways I missed draw something about them #also I hope this is not really ooc #kirby #meta knight #king dedede #metadede #clown art #my life depends on these type of tropes <333 #oh and idk where to put this chronologically but I think in the time between nightmare in dreamland and superstar meta knight's revenge

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milf-harrington · 10 months

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For the made-up fic title prompt:

"Just another normal doomsday"

♡

Just Another Normal Doomsday

Hawkins, 1987.

"I'm just saying, punk rock gay sex is different to hippy gay sex."

"How?"

Robin shrugged, stirring her straw through her milkshake before lifting the whole cup to her mouth to drink it. "It's sexier."

She was sitting with her legs crossed underneath her, back leaning against the bus window so she could face where he was sitting across the aisle. The bus was pleasantly dim, but watery sunlight streamed through a gap on her side and bathed her face in blue shadows while her hair lit up with bronze at the ends.

Steve snorted, leaning sideways with one leg stretched over the aisle, muddy sneaker propped up on the edge of Robin's bench. A cardboard tray filled with chips was nestled in his lap, the corners darkened with grease and grainy with salt.

"You're just saying that because your parents are hippies."

From Steve's backpack, their walkie (one they shared, with masking tape scribbled over in colourful markers stuck to the back, their names written in each others handwriting) crackled to life, codes carried out in a cloud of static that made them both sigh in unison.

Robin burped, dropping her empty milkshake cup back into the bag their food had come in. "No," She protested, milk lining her upper lip before she wiped it away. "I'm saying it because it's true."

"They're both gay!"

"But being punk rock is gayer!"

He flicked a chip crumb at her when she reached for her bag, watching it dodge her flailing attempts at a block and get stuck in her hair. "I'm telling Eddie you called him gay."

She blinked at him, face scrunched up in the same expression she used to give him whenever he opened his mouth at Scoops. "Eddie is gay, and I'm telling him that you called him punk rock-"

Something outside shrieked, high and rattling like broken glass against a sheet of metal. They shared a look like the ones they used to share at Family Video, when customers were being unreasonable and they couldn't say anything about it or they'd get fired.

Steve leaned down to grab his bat from the floor, wiping the grease off of his hands onto his jeans as Robin stood and stretched. There was still a deep purple bruise tucked into the inner corner of her eye from a demo-bat attack on patrol a few days ago, and Steve felt the matching one on his shoulder twinge when he hauled the nail-bat over it.

"He won't do anything," He told her, stepping in front to take the lead as they moved towards the front of the bus. The windows were still sloppily boarded up from a night that felt like a hundred years ago, just Steve and a bunch of kids who were in over their head. "I call him punk all the time, I think he's grown immune to it."

They stopped at the door, Robin squeezing past to stand on the other side, where the controls were. They stayed quiet, peering through the dirty glass to get a grasp of the how many and where. Dustin's code said three, but they'd been wrong before.

"Yeah, but if he hears you've been spreading that around?" Robin whispered, reaching behind her to wrap bandaged fingers around the lever. She whistled low, mostly breath, and Steve rolled his eyes. "You won't have to worry about demodogs, is all I'm saying."

"Yeah, yeah." He muttered, tightening his grip on the bat as the door shuttered open and a gust of warm air hit his face.

He crept outside, second-hand work boots crunching lightly on the gravel as he listened to Robin hurry up the ladder to the roof. She was going to yell directions and throw molotov cocktails while he did the actual hard shit. Technically the lookout part was supposed to be Eddie's job, and Robin was meant to be at Steve's back with her axe, but apparently they were at a crucial stage of the campaign and he "couldn't miss it".

Part of Steve hoped he'd get eaten, if only to get his boyfriend to reorganise his priorities a bit.

A half hour later, Steve leaned against the side of the bus, sweaty and panting while Robin offered him her water-bottle. She reeked of cheap alcohol and the sharp smell of burning, glittering shards of glass caught in her fringe. Gore dripped from the nails in his bat, and one of the dogs had gotten a good swipe at his shin, but he remained mostly un-grievously-injured. He still hurt everywhere though, body complaining about all the diving over and around and behind random bits of junk and machinery.

"Metal gay sex is probably gayer than punk rock gay sex." He decided, and Robin hummed thoughtfully.

"You'd know."

He shrugged, tilting his head with an ehh. "I've never slept with a punk so I can't be sure, but you've met Eddie."

"I have indeed. Speaking of- are we having dinner at Wayne's tonight?"

Steve groaned - not in complaint, it's just that his everything hurt and he'd forgotten about their dinner plans - and ran a hand through his hair. It was greasy and damp with sweat and monster blood. Overhead, a flock of demobats shrieked and weaved among each other, not bothering with the two of them as they headed off towards the quarry.

"Yeah, I said we'd pick up mince for that chuck-in he makes, but that was before the butcher got eaten this morning and I don't think Melvald's is open today."

Robin sighed, scooping up her bag and shrugging it over her shoulder. She held out a hand, fingers spread and wiggling expectantly, and he grinned as he clasped their hands together.

The headed off towards the tracks, a short-cut to the trailer park, and swung their hands back and forth between them.

"I could make that pasta my mum taught me?" Robin offered. "Pretty sure the Munson's will have all of that."

He groaned, this time in delight, and swung their hands a bit higher like a kid on the swings excited to touch the clouds. "God yes, please."

#this might be ooc im really fucking tired lmao #hope you enjoy!!#the concept of steve and robin just hanging out in the bus at the junkyard while on patrol is something thats been in my head for a while #very glad to have an excuse to write something for it #my writing #stobin #platonic soulmates #bit of steddie #steddie #robin buckley #steve harrington #stobin ficlet #asks #leeloooonfire #also the whole 'punk rock gay sex is sexier than hippy gay sex' part at the start #is taken directly from a conversation i had with my best friend one afternoon #i cant remember the context - i just found the exchange written down in my notes app and i went OH PERFECT

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tio-trile · 9 months

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Did you hate the season 2 finale? Are you still looking forward for season 3 because of it or are you turned off of looking forward for any tv show good omens from now on?

What season 2 finale? Good Omens has never been adapted into a TV show. I love the book tho!

#I'm craaaaaaazzzzyyyyyyy ahahahahahahahaha #In seriousness to answer your question #Of course I hated it! Every book fan I know hated it!#The past few days has really sucked with miscellaneous Good Omens and also work stuff and it's just shit it's shit it's shit #I hope season 3 never happen now! I think it'll be hilarious that this is the final ending that show fans get :D #All my friends have been getting my full rant for the past few days #Anyways that was so bad and OOC I've been avoiding Tumblr for the past few days #Because every time I came on I have to fight back the strong urge to delete all my show Omens art #And I've promised myself I wouldn't delete my art under any circumstances before because I used to hate when artists I like did that #Anyways I'm not gonna delete art. But I probably wouldn't post anything Show Omens related from now on. Unfollow me if you want #good omens critical

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honimello · 4 months

Text

Doomed by the Narrative

Papa Emeritus iii/Terzo fic (terzocentric but still x reader)

Summary: Terzo copes with the afterlife, and tries to comfort the people in his life after his passing. (2,003 words)

Warnings: ANGST, detailed violence and gore, sadness, guilt, loneliness, murder, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, introspection

A/N: I'm doing a drawing for this currently lol, I'm super in my Terzo melancholy feels so this is the fruits of that labor lol. I really hope you guys like this and I would love some feedback!

He should’ve seen this coming, he thinks. The whispers, the disdainful glances, even the sheer amount of secret meetings between Sister and Nihil. There was no other explanation. As he stands, spectorally, over his now lifeless body. His head lay still at the feet of that disgusting, dreadful woman. He can see his father wringing his hands far away at the back of the room, trying desperately not to look at the act that has just been committed. The Nameless ghoul they had forced to enact the deed is cowering in the opposite corner of Nihil, the tears stream down their silver mask and the whimpers echo through the pews. Sister turns her nose up at the smell, the mere sight of his blood dripping from the headless body in front of her, she steps back and pulls a handkerchief from her pocket and crouches down. She brandishes his head by his hair, only the Mark of Lucifer stares back. He should’ve seen this coming.

Ever since he was little, Sister has had it out for him, insulting him, belittling him and his brothers. His brothers, his brothers that are gone as well. Where are they? Are they in this state of inbetween and yet still here, just as he is? Suddenly, the doors to the chapel are whipped open and a scream rips through the previously silent room. His fratellino, the only one of them that is left standing. Sister turns around as the poor Cardinal runs up and lands at the body of his dear brother, Copias face is wet with tears and his voice grows hoarse from the sobs that wrack his body. He begins screaming at his mother but for some reason Terzo begins to lose his senses, everything begins to be too much. He can't hear anymore, he can't see, he can't feel and yet everything is so cold. Where am I? Is all he can think.

He doesn't know how much time has passed in the strange state of overstimulation but when he comes to, his body is gone and the room is bathed in darkness. He is alone, not even his lifeless head is with him anymore. He tries to move, tries to leave this wretched chapel of his untimely beheading, but he cannot slink through the pews. There is no leaving this eternal damnation. The fugue state that he stands in currently should terrify him, but he can't bring himself to think or feel or even remotely understand. Where am I? Where am I? Where am I?

The massive wooden door to the chapel creaks open. A Sibling of Sin shuffles through and slowly mopes their way through the pews, only to kneel just before his spector. His spector which he only now realizes, quite vaguely, that where he stands is exactly where he used to lead sermons. He looks down at the top of the siblings head. They are kneeling with their hands clasped together, they sob and they sob and he's not sure why. What troubles you so? He wants to ask but his lips cannot move, he can only watch as they shake and tremble. They cry, and they cry, and they cry, and he's not sure when but he slips back into the void. Senseless and alone, locked in his chapel of unrest. Time passes slower this time, he watches as the sun rises outside of the stained glass windows and he watches as it sets. It begins to rise and set infinitely, like a flickering light. Yet, it is like an eternity of standing and watching.

Sermons are held, he watches as siblings filter in and out of the pews. As his brother stands impossibly close, and shivers at the cold thought that Terzo stood exactly where he does now. That his body lay dead at his feet every time he leads the congregation, there is no rest for either of them. Terzo watches as more wrinkles, more fine lines and dark circles grow upon his fratellinos face. He watches him as time passes. He watches him when he lingers in the chapel after all the siblings have left, he watches as he cries and asks Terzo for guidance. Guidance he wishes he could give, but he cannot speak and he cannot cry.

It is a long time, he thinks, before the chapel doors creak open once more, and this time it is very late at night. Terzo has completed another bout of senselessness as a vaguely familiar Sibling of Sin walks in. They cry again but not as hard as they did the first time, and as he watches them he feels a different familiarity in their features. Does he know them? Did he know them… Before? He can’t quite remember but regardless of their tears and snot, he finds them rather beautiful in their grief. He can hear them sniffling, hear them whimper and whisper. They are the only thing he has been able to hear in a long time and he is struck with the realization that they look older than before. How long has it been? He hears them whisper once more and he can barely make out his own name, his title even. A title that no longer belongs to him.

“Papa..”

“Papa…”

“Papa… Are you there?”

His finger twitches at his side, his muscles convulse. Call my name, he thinks, Call to me.

“...”

“... Terzo?”

Instantaneously, he regains feeling throughout his entire body. He stumbles forward before falling to his knees directly beside the Sibling. Why now? Why has he regained his consciousness now? He is so close to them and yet he cannot bring himself to match their gaze, so he stares past them and raises a hand to their shoulder. He thinks to himself that he recognizes them now, his amore… How could he forget? He wants to scold himself but can't bring himself to focus on his own feelings as he watches them shiver at his touch and begin sobbing even harder than before.

He opens his mouth and tries to speak to them, but alas any words that come out turn into the air of the chapel and all it serves to do is make the Sibling shiver once more. They begin whispering again, their words stilted and wavering.

“Papa, it’s been almost six years since you’ve been gone.”

He is stunned. Standing here for six years. Six years, does anyone remember him anymore? Has he been completely forgotten? Is he obsolete?

“Papa IV is retiring… The holidays have passed and I find myself thinking of you once more, why has Lucifer doomed me to such a life? Have I not been faithful? Have I not been dutiful? Papa, I am lonely.”

His voice is like ice as he opens his mouth, the wind begins to whisper to the Sibling.

“I am always with you.”

Your body begins to shake, you cry out like you've never cried before, the melancholy that's made a home in your bones rears its ugly head and you fall to the steps below your knees. You reach your hands up and the breeze caresses them like your lover did once before, long ago. His presence is like a whispered promise in the air, and in a way, it is. Your tears smack against the stone of the steps but his voice calling to you is all you hear.

As the sun rises through the window, and you make your way back to your dorm room, Terzo leaves his spot in the chapel for the first time in six years. He follows you to your room and watches as you settle into bed to catch up on your lost night of sleep. Once he believes you to be fully sleeping, he makes his way out of your room and into the halls. He wanders for a long time, watching siblings he recognizes mingled with new siblings make their own way through the halls side by side with him. There are places around the Ministry that have changed, a specific archway has been remodeled and painted over with His Majesty in mind. It makes him smile, but it also brings him great pain that he could not have seen it built.

Soon, he finds himself outside of an office. An office with raised voices emanating from the other side of the door. He slinks inside and finds his little brother and Sister Imperator. They are yelling, waving their arms, huffing and puffing. She is trying to convince him to rethink his retirement, she threatens him but it has no real weight to it. Terzo watches as his fratellino sits down in his chair with a groan and falls silent. Sister’s voice begins to trail off and she asks him: What is wrong, bambino?

“His gaze has been haunting me, Sister. The Mark, the same Mark that stares back at me from inside the mirror. His head in my hands. I am haunted, and I miss him.”

Sister Imperator rolls her eyes. You are still on about that? She says vindictively. That was six years ago, C!

“I do not care. He is my brother and I have wronged him, not only in life but in death as well. The cold stare in his eyes, the look on his face resting in my hands. I cannot wash that away. You have forced me into a place that not even Lucifer could forgive. This is not what I wanted, it is not what he wanted. Let me go in peace… Please, Sister.”

She has turned her back on him, staring with an empty gaze out the window. You have disappointed me, C. I hope you are happy with yourself. She stalks out of the office, leaving both Copia and Terzo in silence. His brother begins crying, holding his own head in his hands.

“Could you ever forgive me, mio fratello?” He whispers into the icy air of the empty room.

Terzo makes his way to stand behind the hunched over form of his brother, he sighs and rests his hand on his shoulder. Copia relaxes with the breeze that makes its way through him, a shiver and a shuddering breath wrack his body. It is a while before Copia regains his composure, but soon he is off to another meeting, his rushing and bumbling demeanor reminiscent of his Cardinal days.

Terzo remains in the room, staring out the window as siblings rush by in the gardens. He thinks of his other brothers once more and wonders where they are. Could he find them here in this purgatory, or are they in Hell with their Lord? Have they been rewarded for their efforts? Why couldn’t he be with them, why did he have to haunt the halls of the Ministry alone?

He is not sure he will ever get the answers he looks for but for the time being, he is content to watch the new siblings admiring his late brother's hard work, the beautiful flora and fauna outside of the Ministry. He watches as two siblings water and trim the hedges and plants as needed, and he feels a sense of gratitude and pride in them. He is jealous of their life and their laughter but he is glad the Ministry continues to thrive, and has a new generation willing to care for it just as he and his brothers did.

Maybe this is his reward, his true retirement. There is nothing he has to worry about anymore, all he has to do is watch over his amore and his fratellino. Maybe he could be content in that, in having a purpose in this afterlife. A purpose that will not eat him from the inside out like the papacy.

The sun filters in and lights up the dust falling through the air, Terzo watches as it gently glides its way through the air like a leaf falling to the ground. He breathes a sigh of relief and begins to relax.

#my writing #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus iii x reader #the band ghost #the band ghost fic #i really hope yall like this its the first thing in a while to give me inspiration lol #i know its not that long but i hope its still good #i also hope its not too ooc for any of the characters

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revasserium · 9 months

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Hi! It's me, I'm the problem Jazz again 🤣

Ikemen Prince ask for either Leon or Silvio with prompt number 88 please 🙏 ♥️

send me a number and a character :)

priceless (88. This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.)

silvio; 1,374 words, fluff and... fluff LOL this is only tangentially inspired by the prompt u__u whoops

01.

when you break his heart the first time, he doesn’t really know it’s real. he presses the lips of a dozen priceless wine bottles to his mouth and imagines every one to be yours — he drinks until the world is spinning, the way it spun when he asked you to dance for the very first time.

he gets drunk on the sound of your remembered laughter.

he makes a mess of the sheets, of his silk-lined robes, of all the richest furs in the corners of his closet — he falls asleep wishing that this were all but a dream.

he wakes up and has to deal with the realization that it is not all just a dream and that for the first time in his life, this isn’t something he can buy his way out of because what is the price of heartbreak? the tag on the pieces of a shattered wish — he screams into every single pillow he owns and falls asleep at noon.

02.

the second time you break his heart, he catches your arm before you can leave.

“what d’you want?” he asks, desperate and imploring, with a shudder in his voice that he’s never truly heard there before but —

you shake your head.

“i — i don’t want anything from you.”

he feels his fingers slip from around your wrist as you purse your lips and stumble back half a step. but that’s all he needs. he’s needlessly reminded of a story he’s heard a long, long time ago — about a genie and a girl who accidentally summons him. about the genie who asked the girl what she wished for and she told him she didn’t. the genie stayed with that girl for years and years and years, and in the beginning, whenever she asked him to do anything, he’d ask if that was her wish but she’d shake her head no. she’d tell him that he didn’t have to if he didn’t want to.

and yet somehow, he always found that he wanted to.

silvio wonders what he really wants, and the answer comes — clear and quiet as a winter stream —

he wants… you.

03.

the third time, he thinks he can get used to this.

04.

the fourth time, he’s ready for it —

“no,” you say, shaking your head, frowning at something he’s demanded of you.

“alright then,” he says, shrugging.

you blink, watching him as he turns away. watching him as he takes three steps away from you before you reach for him, tugging him back by the sleeve.

“what — that’s it? you’re… not gonna force me?”

he chuckles, “what’s the point if you’re just gonna snark at me? and anyway — i’ve got proper maids for this kind of stuff.”

“fine then,” you say, petulant, your voice sharp in a way that makes his lips twitch.

he grins, cocking his head as he watches the color wash up into your cheeks.

“fine,” he parrots back, his own voice painfully sweet and just as smug. he revels in the way your eyes flash, the way your fingers curl into fists at your side as he turns away.

so it really does take two to tango.

05.

“y’know, a million girls would kill to be in your place right now.”

“then why aren’t they?”

“hm? why aren’t they what?”

“why aren’t they here, in my place?”

silvio licks his lips, tasting salt and heat and the midnight air.

“cause… i didn’t really take to any of ‘em.”

you sigh, rolling your eyes.

“and you just so happened to take… to me. why?”

silvio shrugs, “you’re beautiful.”

“bullshit — there are plenty of girls out there prettier than me.”

“prettier, yeah. but more beautiful? no.”

your breath catches in your chest — hook, line, and sinker. you feel the tug in the base of your belly, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“w-what? that… that doesn’t make any sense.”

silvio only laughs, casting his eyes back out at the florid lushness of his palace gardens, teaming with the world’s rarest flowers — the night blooming cereus, the elusive ghost orchids, the fire lilies, and his prized juliet rose bushes. he leans over the thick railing to tug one from it’s bed of thorns, pressing it to his nose and taking a deep breath.

“it took my best gardener 12 years to cultivate one o’ these,” he says, twirling the peach-colored flower between his fingers.

“wow,” you say, eyeing the small, unassuming bloom, “that’s… a long time.”

“yeah, sure. but the gardener was rewarded pretty damn well for his work.”

at this, you heave another sigh, leaning up against the stone banisters.

“and i’m sure that’s the only reason he worked as hard as he did, right?”

silvio traces a finger along the edge of a velvet petal, admiring the fractal-like formation of the flower’s center.

“yeah… i’m sure it is.”

06.

the sixth time you reject him, he almost laughs out loud. it really is fun pushing all your buttons after all.

07.

the seventh time, he curls his lips around the shape of your name and dares to ask why.

you tell him, “because… it’d be nice of you to ask instead of demand for a change.”

he shivers at the gentleness of your tone, at the feather-soft of your confession, the pink that kisses your cheeks like the rosy-fingered dawn.

“but… if i ask, there’s a chance you’re gonna say no.”

you laugh and roll your eyes, “i say no anyways.”

“so why bother askin’ when i know what your answer’s gonna be?”

“because… sometimes, if you give someone the choice to stay or to go — they’ll surprise you.”

08.

“can… can y’just… stay? please?”

“...okay.”

09.

“when’d you learn how to say please?”

you twist to face him in the silver light of an encroaching dawn.

silvio groans as he buries his face in the silken pillows, his hair a hallo of lingering moonlight.

“dunno — shuttup… it’s too damn early.”

you allow yourself a smile and snuggle in before drifting back off to sleep.

10.

“kiss me.”

silvio smirks, cocking his head, “no.”

you narrow your eyes, frowning even as he chuckles, his fingers tight around your waist as the pair of you spin in ever and ever faster circles to music only the two of you can hear.

“why not?”

“cause…” he bites back, laving his tongue luxuriously across the expanse of his bottom lip before tugging it between his teeth, “y’didn’t ask nicely.”

you fight down the urge to push him away but his grip on you is tight and true, strong and steady and… so very nearly sweet.

“fuck off.”

he grins a foxhole grin and you feel yourself sinking into it’s depths, deeper and deeper as he spins you beneath his arm and dips you low, low, low.

“nope — pretty sure y’didn’t ask there either. and… that ain’t proper language for a lady, now is it?”

you roll your eyes as he pulls you back up and the dance begins again.

“fine,” you bite out, sparing him a half-hearted glare, “can i please have a kiss?” you ground out the words, even as the heat crests up your chest and bubbles over into your cheeks, burning all the way to the tips of your ears.

“hm… now that wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

he leans in and you let your eyes flutter shut.

when he breaks the kiss, he is smiling.

“kiss me again,” he says.

you smirk, “what happened to asking nicely?”

“hn. don’t feel like it — too much trou—”

but you cut him off with another kiss, and briefly, silvio considers the merits of tugging away if only to tease you about the impropriety of interrupting a prince’s speech before he’s finished. and then the next moment, he decides that, really, he prefers just kissing you instead.

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