#IC ANS.

[poein]

* @vanderwoods3ns … “  how do you take your coffee?  ”

as far as austin knows, he's not prone to lucid dreaming. so why then is the serena van der woodsen herself asking how he takes his goddamn coffee ? he's grown up here in new york. he'd know who she was even if somehow, no one else did. this part of the world is new to him -- the networking ; the events. his agent sets everything up & all he has to do for a few hours is smile & act charming. easier said than done, he'd argue. the money, however, is by far the thing he finds most difficult to wrap his head around. he's been cut checks, given sponsorship deals, & he has to take a look in the mirror every time to confirm he is still himself, & he didn't somehow accidentally stumble into a picture of dorian gray situation. ( he's already made a post some years back on how instagram is conceivably a modern-day version of wilde's story. he doesn't really remember how that post went, but the irony of putting it up on instagram & it getting as many likes as it did was not lost on him then, & certainly is not lost on him now. )

" uh, " he blinks, running his hand through his hair out of habit more than necessity. austin's never truly been a morning person, but his brain seems to have short-circuited more than usual. new york's ' it ' girl. right there. goddamn. " black, " he says finally, having made fool enough of himself for now. " or really i'll drink it whatever way. " ( . . . ) " thanks. " ( . . . ) " you ? "

[ridoc]

* @hourman … ❛ want to go for a walk and check out all the lights? ❜

there's a sharp cracking sound as ridoc dislodges himself from the curled up position he's been in for the past hour, bones protesting at the movement -- but it doesn't last long, as muscles are stretched out, relieved of any burgeoning cramps before they can begin. a glance out the window at the softly falling snow, & he smiles warmly.

" rick, if i ever say ' no ' to going out & seeing badass light displays, i've been bodysnatched. " hand on his heart, sincere. " it'll be my one tell. well, that & i'll obviously have lost all the WIT & CHARM that everyone loves. " grin bright, cheeky, sincerity gone in an instant. " wait --- should we bring some cocoa along for the journey ? "

[umrti]

☠          @brutalcore       …       ' how long have you been standing there ? '

it is a question difficult to answer in any way that makes sense to those for whom time moves linearly & down a single path. one foot after the other, one hour after the next, days into months into years. time is a social construct. early, late, just in ----- i do not ascribe to any such notion, nor have i ever. TIME IS. TIME WILL ALWAYS SIMPLY JUST BE. i am here & now ; i am in the past ; i am in the future. i am lingering in the recesses of one's mind ; i am at the forefront of all thought. when i am there, time does not matter in the fashion people have tried to dress it up in. they have tried to carve SOLID UNDERSTANDING from something inherently impalpable. to me, time is split into two : it is your time, & it is not your time. i have little need for knowing what day in what month in what year it is. whether someone be two hours or one-hundred-&-two years makes no difference to me : i treat them all the same.

still, i know the question deserves an answer, & i give the only one i know : " S̲O̲M̲E̲ ̲ ̲T̲I̲M̲E̲.̲ " it is not a lie, & i spread my hands out palms-up before me in a gesture of what i believe to be good faith. i am not here for him, if that is his concern. my job ( if that is what it is to be referred to as ) takes me many places, & sees many faces ------- but some become more known to me ; a more regular occurrence in my line of work. i do not elaborate further. i merely stand in the shadowed doorway, lowering my previously-spread hands until they are neatly folded in front of myself. i have always been an observer - it is a part i play well, & one i slip back into with ease. " W̲H̲Y̲ ̲ ̲D̲O̲ ̲ ̲Y̲O̲U̲ ̲ ̲A̲S̲K̲ ̲ ̲?̲ "

[revevir]

* @foamsalt : “i don’t like that look, what happened?”

nose scrunched & fair brow furrowed, slim fingers press against temple, & he stays that way - like some GROTESQUE STATUE - for a handful of moments before he blows out a breath & lifts gaze in adelaide's direction. ❛     i only made one of the most rookie mistakes,     ❜ he replies, head slumping forward as arms fold, coming to a rest on top of them, still looking at her. he knows he's being overly dramatic & this isn't as big an issue as he is making it out to be - not really an issue at all, in fact ----- but that doesn't negate the fact that to him right now in this moment, it's a harrowing ordeal. ❛     --- i forgot my film.     ❜ tone sorrowful, & he glances at the camera sitting before him, back panel open & displaying its bare insides. ❛     it's empty, fine,     ❜ a vague handwave of dismissal, ❛     but for me to not have any spare rolls ? terrible ! how can i even think about calling myself a professional if i arrive in this state !     ❜ he looks back at her, imploring. ❛     i think maybe i need a drink.     ❜ won't do anything for him, but the action in itself may help. ❛     what do you think ?     ❜

[ane-doodles]

I'm going to leave my boy here for a while, take care of him

[huntvir]

@whitelace … “ when’s the last time you had a full night’s rest? ”

he doesn't love this line of questioning, that's easy enough to admit. ( it seems unnatural to have the social expectation flipped on him - he's the sheriff. he's the one who usually does the questioning. it's not often he finds himself the one being questioned. ) sleep doesn't come that easy to him. it never really has. grabbing minutes here & there ; a half hour if lucky, forty-five minutes before he wakes again if he's really lucky.

SLEEP-MAINTENANCE INSOMNIA, they call it. he just used to refer to it as being a fitful light sleeper. still can't decide if it's good for the job or not. on one hand, it means he's always alert enough for any emergency ( though if prodded, he'd be forced to admit he cannot really recall the last emergency the town ever had ), but on the other, it means he's one well-intentioned offering of CHAMOMILE TEA away from crashing on the nearest chair. on particularly bad days, even the jail cots start to look enticing.

it's not like he can share his woes with anyone really, either --- not even a small & relatively issue-free town like storybrooke would want to know their sheriff runs on PIXY STIX sugar, & copious amounts of strong coffee. ( the fact that he has not yet fallen victim to a badly-timed sugar & caffeine crash is nothing short of a miracle, really. ) graham musters up a smile at valerie's question - clearly he hadn't hid the yawn behind his hand as well as he'd thought. “ oh, i'm fine, ” he tells her, dodging the query with a sort of practiced elegance. “ regina just had me up late looking into something, & granny makes the best coffee in town. ” he lifts his near-empty cup as if to reiterate his point, & finishes what's left. “ that . . . & where else in town is open at seven in the morning ? ”

[hope-ur-ok]

I am so anxious rn, at work, and I'm weighing the pros and cons of taking my anti anxiety meds

[venomgaia]

in the maw of the ouroboros in the maw of the ouroboros in the maw of the ouroboros

[mortdane]

❝ Are you gossiping about me ... ？❞

❝ only the nicest of things Faenethra and i are discussing . ❞ it is difficult to discern flippancy from honesty when his visage is bereft of emotions, a default state of being; inscrutably neutral, in choice conveyance and in body language

𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 ⸻ @bloodtwin

[polar-equinoxx]

Presenting a dump of sorts!

[poein]

* @ourcarvedsins … “  you talk in your sleep, ya know.  ”

yeah, he knows. some take it better than others --- but it's almost always mentioned. he's been assured it's never for long, nor is it anything particularly interesting ( if, indeed, they can keep up with what he's saying at all ), but it's still a habit he's been trying to kick. he's tried giving up caffeine after midday ; no smoking after seven pm ; no electronics after nine ; switching meds & changing doses . . . but to little success. there's a clattering from his kitchen, the thud of a toe colliding with something on the floor, a half-swallowed yelp & a strained fuck !, & austin appears, two cups in his hand. " yeah ? " he hands na-eun the cup closest, & takes a seat to sip his own. " did i say anything good ? "

[moonshynecybin]

kinda drunk as well lol what do you think the grid drinks

hello fellow warrior i have decided to limit myself to the denizens of the VR46 Academy for Saving Professional Athletes’ Relationships with Their Fathers. ummm no concrete stance here but i think celestino would love raspberry lambic casually but get a fucking. vodka red bull at the club. luca gin and tonic EASY. bezz whiskey ginger or tequila. pecco a negroni that he DOESNT LIKE. franky one of those microbrew IPAs that tastes like peanut butter or smth wacky. mig slays with a marg.

[hyacinthecanard]

Posting this WIP to force myself to finish it! Truly I love to suffer by making overly complicated illustrations.

Does this scene need another fanart? No, there's already plenty cool ones. But I'll still do mine.

At first it was for a silly elements bending AU but honestly, I might be too lazy to try to paint ice.

Any comments before I start to render it ? :))

[pollyna]

This two prompts are the difference between 86/87!Mav going to the future and getting to be fucking feral over the fact he married Iceman and they have a life and he can finally get to have a taste of it vs. Mav just post having pulled Bradley's papers, feeling confused and sure that if Goose was still alive he would have done right by his kid just to wake up the morning of the 29 of July and actually saving him, to go to bed that same night with his best friend alive and well, just to get back to his future and discover that all he knew is now different and the person sleeping at his side isn't Tom. Because hell to the consequences, the important thing is that Goose is alive. Isn't it?

prompt from the discord (top gun: 1986), by @seresuns

[goyouku]

He's been out of town for the week, a joint mission with another agency that had need of his capabilities, and it had been quite the experience. Now, however, he is back, though he has not yet announced as much to those closest to him. Over the years, he has come to have a bit of a gremlin sense of humour, so instead of giving any indication that Hawks may have caught upon from the centre of his network, he swoops in seeking the HPSC Commissioner's walking route for his lunchtime coffee, and catching his hands under his arms, bringing him swiftly airborne, into the freedom of the air. "Fret not, I picked up canned coffee on my way back. I would not deprive you of the hit, though forgive my selfishness in stealing some of your precious time." He's not sorry, the journey they have been on together makes Hawks the person he is closest to in life so he's content being a little selfish, whisking him away to the nearest highest resting place with confidence, perching upon the edge once he has set Hawks down gently with a pleased chirp. "I hope you haven't been overworking yourself in my absence." Is what he says aloud, however the softening of his crimson eyes says more. It's good to see you. I missed you while I was away. / @resolutepath

LIFE  WITHOUT  HIS  QUIRK  HAD  BEEN...  hard,  at  first.  it  was  like  learning  to  live  without  half  of  himself,  existing  in  a  world  where  his  limbs  felt  heavy,  and  there  were  no  wings  to  wrap  him  up  tightly  at  night.  but  as  the  months  had  turned  into  years,  as  achievements  and  tribulations  mounted  -  hawks'  had  been  able  to  dull  himself  to  the  longing,  to  focus  more  on  the  work  that  had  come  to  matter.  turns  out  being  a  work-a-holic  was  simply  his  nature.  there  was  change  to  be  made,  people  to  instill  pride  in,  reforms  to  push  forth...  the  commissioner  was  a  busy  man,  almost  as  busy  as  when  he'd  been  a  hero.  still  -  hawks  couldn't  help  but  miss  flying,  couldn't  help  but  miss  the  wind  in  his  hair  and  the  endless  expanse  of  blue  before  him.  he  often  catches  himself  peering  up  into  the  cloudless  sky  as  he  walks  -  and  this  is  one  such  occasion,  dipping  out  of  the  building  and  away  from  his  secretary  for  a  routine  that  suited  him  just  fine:  one  of  those  damned  canned  monstrosities.  he  was  salivating  thinking  about  it,  as  he  watched  a  shadow  roll  across  the  sky  and-

hawks  would  later  declare  that  he  did  not  scream  like  a  little  girl  when  his  former  protegee  hefted  him  into  the  sky.  he  would  be,  in  fact,  lying.

legs  kick  a  moment,  before  the  people  below  them  become  dots  -  and  he  realizes  now  just  who  is  embracing  him  -  tokoyami's  arms  are  strong  and  dark  shadow's  presence  always  an  adoring  thing.  hawks  still  squawks  a  bit,  before  going  still  -  and  letting  his  aureate  gaze  pick  upwards.  ❝ tokoyami! ❞  his  excitement  is  a  palpable  thing,  scarred  face  split  into  a  wide  smile,  as  they  drop  onto  a  windy  perch  so  similar  to  all  those  years  ago.

hawks'  gaze  is  greedy  -  so  greedy,  basking  in  the  smallness  of  the  world  from  up  here,  the  scent  of  the  wind.  he  has  to  take  a  moment  to  pretend,  to  truly  throw  his  head  back,  posture  relaxing,  and  imagine  he  still  possesses  resplendent,  crimson  wings,  still  could  feel  the  air  currents,  control  each  individual  feather...  but  it's  gone,  and  he  instead  focuses  his  gaze  on  his  now  grown  companion.  ever  unorthodox,  hawks  reaches  out,  yanking  tokoyami  into  a  hug  so  tight,  it's  hard  to  believe  he's  just  a  mortal  man  who  is  somehow  good  with  a  sword  now.

soon,  he  pulls  back  -  gold  and  crimson  clashing,  and  a  smile  still  softening  the  lines  of  his  mouth.  hawks  is  almost  fussy,  old  habits  dying  hard  -  as  he  reaches  upwards  to  gently  preen  a  few  of  the  dark  feathers  adorning  tokoyami's  head,  unable  to  resist  the  familiar  gesture.  ❝ kidnapping  the  commissioner  is  a  crime  y'know. ❞   he  teases,  but  does  not  stop,  clearly  content  to  descend  into  old  habits...  and  using  it  as  an  excuse  to  ignore  the  uh,  very  pointed  question  about  overworking.  hawks'  wrinkled  suit  was  answer  enough.  ❝ how  was  the  mission,  huh?  you  and  dark  shadow  got  lots  of  juicy  stories  for  an  old  timer? ❞

[solidwater05]

... misery...