#WOW i actually hate this

[itsnotalemon]

Sebastian drawing i started a couple months ago i decided to finally finish,,, i was like,,, THIS close to just scrapping it man

[starry-bi-sky]

mmm throwaway conversation between Dan and Danny that popped into my head that I had to write out:

"You spent ten years being a one-man mass extinction event, then went back in time and fought me, and lost." Danny snarls, arms crossed and throat tight. His mouth pulls back to bare dagger-sharp teeth, and his eyes burn with the familiar thrum of ectoplasm heating up behind his eyes. "If I didn't believe you were half of Vlad before, I do now."

His other self -- and really, can he even call him that? He's half of Vlad too. Two halves severed from each other and welded together to make a new whole, -- snaps his head over to him. Wild-eyed and furious, he looks unlike the man Danny fought before, the one unruffled and untouched, unbothered by the world around him. It's familiar, but not like the way a reflection is.

"What's that supposed to mean." The Other hisses, matching Danny's scowl one-for-one with fangs much bigger and sharper than his.

But there's a reason lions fear hyenas. Danny matches the rumble in The Other's chest with one of his own, and shoves his face close to his. "I don't lose."

[mayasaura]

I don't wanna further hijack that poor poll, but the thing about Harrow's schizophrenia is that it's canon. The author has confirmed it, and shared that it's based on her own experience.

It's a pretty obscure bit of canon, so of course there's no shame in not already knowing, but that's why I'm so obnoxiously persistent about letting people know.

Whatever else is up with Harrow, autism or cptsd or any number of likely headcanons, she is also schizophrenic. I feel like that's too important to be handwaved away as a difference of opinion.

[todayis-snowy]

what if we had….unconventional side profiles according to the western beauty standard….and we bumped noses…..

[kristiliqua]

l . learning . how to draw … transformers …. (specifically these two . for reasons undisclosed to the public)

everyone clap for me finally drawing this tv show (and the general tf franchise) for the first time ever even though i watched tfa when i was like 8 years old or some shit idk

[manchesterau]

Daniel-Dream-X’s Pastel Paradise ~ヾ☆*。 - dnp liveshows 2/?

[temeyes]

i,, i don't know what possessed me,,

[skyiedior]

cynicism - a defense against fraud (men), people who think they are smart(men) and busllshit(men)

I believe every woman in the 20s need a healthy dose of cynicism. especially those venturing the dating pool. that's the only way you are going to survive men with your sanity still intact.

i was born with a stone cold, no nonsense cynical heart and I believe heterosexual men should start on prison and prove their way out

[ruporas]

special operatives (silly interaction beneath read more)

[ID: Digital Art in color of Trigun Maximum, characters included are Wolfwood, Elendira, and Legato in a casual meeting situation. The piece consists of orangey yellow lighting and purple shadows. Wolfwood sits on the left side, facing Elendira who’s on the right. He’s seated on a plain wooden chair with one knee up and he’s holding the strap to his Punisher in his left hand while his right sits against his thigh, He has an irritated expression as he speaks to Elendira. Elendira is sitting in a fancier seat, her right arm rests against Wolfwood’s propped up knee, her left hand holds her suitcase. She’s sitting cross legged with an amused expression. Legato can be seen in the back at the center of the image in his mobile body case, one of his eyes shown to be glaring at Wolfwood. End ID]

[ID: Sketch, uncolored comic. Elendira says to Wolfwood, “I’m not telling you to dedicate yourself to him, but just accept the situation at hand. We could get along better if we were on the same page.” Wolfwood responds, “Don’t peg me me for an optimist. I’m not dumb. But, I’m also not going to just live in resignation. Plus, I don’t have any interest in getting along with ya.” Elendira coos, “Aw, you sure? I have a wonderful shoulder to cry on when the weak people you’re trying to protect eventually dies in the coming months. Though, I guess it’s fine. Someone like you might just die before then anyway...” She snickers in her hand while Wolfwood is speechless and just glares. Legato is faintly drawn in the back, glaring at Wolfwood, muttering “worthless” repetitively. End ID]

[a-most-beloved-fool]

For the ask prompt game...

Spirk #17 to distract

"Report," Kirk ordered. The word buzzed low against Spock's ear, quiet and audibly tense.

"Less than two minutes until they reach our location, Captain," Spock replied promptly. "Commander Scott will need at least another eight before the transporter is operable again." His voice was equally hush, despite their perceived solitude. He had seen carelessness take far too many lives during his time in Starfleet; he would not allow it to take his captain as well - and, illogically, Spock could not quite dispense of the phantom sensation of eyes on the back of his neck.

"We'll need to bluff it," Kirk decided, looking grim.

His gaze was strangely intense against Spock, full of rioting emotion, and, almost, Spock wished to look away. He did not. Instead, he nodded, holding steady eye contact.

The odds, Spock knew, that Kirk's gambit - whatever it may be - would succeed were... poor. The guards had, after all, seen their faces. But Kirk would keep fighting right until the bitter end, and Spock, of course, would be right beside him.

Solemn, he vowed, "I shall follow your lead," though he knew Kirk would not have doubted it. Still, the unnecessary words were well worth the way the tension around Kirk's eyes melted away, the somber set of his mouth slipping instead into a golden-edged smile.

Almost wonderingly, a soft chuckle fell from those lips, incongruous in their surroundings and entirely treasured. "What would I do without you?" Kirk asked, reaching up to exert gentle pressure on Spock's bicep.

I pray you never need find out, Spock made to say, getting only so far as drawing in breath before the sound of distant footsteps drew them both from their quiet moment, snuffing the words before they could take shape. "Eighteen seconds," he said instead, after rapidly adjusting his calculations. Faster than anticipated.

Kirk nodded, some unreadable emotion hiding in the soft crease between his brows.

"Forgive me, Mr. Spock," Kirk said softly, and Spock did not have time to question what he meant before Kirk was pulling him down by his shirt, dragging their lips together with great urgency.

Quite suddenly, Spock found that his mind was entirely blank. Strange heat flickered through his whole form, and his universe narrowed to only Kirk, all soft and human-warm, who was pressed flush to his chest and kissing him.

One, then two seconds stuttered by in which Spock thought no thoughts at all, struck utterly motionless in the face of such unexpected attentions. He only felt, swept away by the sensation of pliant lips against his own and warm fingers stroking through his hair, gently mussing.

The very first thought to break to the surface was simply, Jim. A wave of emotion flooded in with it, astonishment and affection sweeping over him in such quantities that he felt nearly lightheaded.

The second was, We will be caught, and Spock jolted as something near to panic rose up inside his gullet, urging him to take Jim into his arms and run.

The third, however, was not his own; it was pressed into his katra from the outside by Jim's careful fingers, his clever mind slipping easily past Spock's shields. Play along, he said, projecting deliberate calm through their connection. Still, Jim was unpracticed in telepathic arts, and beneath that false serenity Spock could feel a tangle of guilt and determination, bitter and writhing.

The truth came to Spock in one fell swoop.

Jim's gambit... was this.

His lips and his hands, which pressed themselves so tenderly to Spock's skin, were not for him.

It was not love which had drawn his captain into his arms, but mere utility. Jim had realized what Spock had not: though they could not hide themselves, they could, perhaps, distract from themselves.

Two men attempting to look inconspicuous would only draw suspicion. Two men locked in a romantic embrace, however, may be overlooked - or even deliberately ignored. Few were comfortable with looking closely at the private passions of strangers, and fewer still would see reason to. Those searching for them, Spock hoped, would not. There would be no logic in halting an escape attempt solely for a kiss, after all.

Therefore, in order to escape unnoticed, they must be convincing.

They must seem, to any observers, to be completely and entirely immersed in one another, with no care for anything going on in their surroundings, and no fear of discovery.

Two lives, purchased with a kiss.

It was entirely logical, then, for Spock to part his lips, inviting Jim's tongue to dip inside of the wet cave of his mouth and meeting it with his own. If a groan rumbled deep within his chest, it could surely only help their cause; there was no need to swallow it down.

This disguise would, Spock observed as Jim's tongue flicked gently at his mouth, be far easier to maintain than it had any right to be.

It was a terribly simple matter for a man in love to behave as though he were a man in love.

The difficult part, then, would be remembering that it was a ruse. Already, heat bubbled deep within Spock, aching want suffusing his every neuron. Every faint brush of flesh sent golden tendrils of telepathic energy sparking across his skin, and it was all Spock could manage to hold himself back from pressing hungry fingers to Jim's meldpoints and sinking into that wonderfully enticing mind.

Instead, Spock slipped a hand beneath the hem of Jim's shirt, rucking up the cloth until he was tracing patterns across a smooth expanse of golden skin. He flexed his hand, allowing his nails to scratch carefully along Jim's spine, and did not permit himself to consider reaching upwards, to Jim's face - or worse: downwards, beyond the waistband of his pants.

He wondered if Jim would have chosen this, had he known how very much Spock wanted.

Perhaps it was selfish of Spock to allow it.

Still, he could not force himself away - not when Jim's life was at stake. The kiss was his lifeline, and so the kiss must remain.

The touch of their minds, however, did nothing to aid Jim. It was solely for Spock's benefit, taken from Jim without his knowledge or intent.

That, Spock could end.

If Jim was to unknowingly place himself into the hands of someone who wanted more than he would wish to give, then Spock would take it upon himself to be his protector - even if the one he must protect against was himself.

And so, Spock opened himself to every offered touch, and girded his mind against every stray thought, until not a single wisp of golden energy could find its way past his defenses.

When Jim's thigh nudged its way between Spock's legs, Spock spread his stance wider, allowing him to press closer, and did not let himself feel. His hands grasped and squeezed at the soft flesh beneath them, drawing quiet gasps from a pink-flushed throat, and no pleasant hum buzzed against his fingertips, carrying with it the flavor of human emotion. Jim nipped at his lips and pet at his hair, and Spock pressed every scrap of yearning deep down within himself to where they couldn't emerge.

Eyes closed and spirit aching, Spock kissed him.

_____________

from this ask game

[purplepeptobismol]

WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO YOU NOW?!?

the saga of Kyle being mutilated and tortured continues I guess

[cloudcountry]

NRC'S PAINT CHIP PROJECT! — green with envy

"wanting to be special to you. wanting to be the only one you touch. wanting you."

You were Malleus’s first true friend.

He treasures you in every form, in every mood you come to him in. There’s a glow about you when you’re happy, a cloud around you when you’re upset, and a flame around you when you’re angry. There’s a myriad of other emotions he sees in you, disgust and love and amusement and awe and calmness and anxiety, and each one is more fascinating than the last.

He wants to draw every single one out of you and see how you deal with them. He wants to pick you apart and know every single thing about you because it seems wrong not to know.

But others know.

Others know you just as well, if not better than he does, and it irritates him.

There’s a small, immature part of him that feels the urge to summon lightning and strike down his competition because that’s what they are, right?

He believes humans call his emotion jealousy. He wasn’t aware he could feel something this gut-wrenching, but he supposes you’re such a curious little thing that you’d spawn feelings like this within him without even knowing.

That’s true, you don’t know what you do to him, do you?

Naivety doesn’t suit you.

He wants to be your first friend. He wants to be as special to you as you were to him. He doesn’t want to lose you. No one has ever touched his heart the way you can, and Malleus knows nobody else will ever get as deep into his soul as you did.

You dug your way through the towering stone walls with your own two hands, and the second you broke through, the whole wall he'd built over centuries and centuries crumbled completely. He wishes you weren’t so kind. He wishes your presence wasn’t so comforting and he wishes there was a feasible reason to hate you because he can’t stand being this dependent on you.

You would tell him that you’re not the only kind person in the world.

As Malleus sees you talking and laughing with friends that are him, he hopes you’d be wrong.

He doesn’t want to feel this jealous feeling ever again.

[meisakukun]

practice

[laurelwinchester]

rewatching the marvel movies as a thirtysomething adult trying (finally) to heal from 20+ years of severe mental illness and trauma and actually doing the work to do that really hits different. but also not that different. i've never understood the obsessive love the fandom has for tony stark and i understand it even less now.

the avengers within the mcu were never a cohesive unit (or, you know, actual friends) because they were constantly at the mercy of a severely mentally ill billionaire who consistently and unapologetically allowed his trauma and illness to explode outwards and harm others and then he would wallow and whine and use his considerable wealth to attempt to mop up the mess he created. he never got real help. he never put an effort into seriously trying to heal and it damaged not only every single person around him but random citizens and cities.

"but he was a good man at heart!"

yes. he was. that is not enough. that man was unwell and a danger to himself and others. he knew that and yet he continued to cause chaos and spread his trauma to other people. mental illness or not, that is selfish. his sacrifice at the end was noble but it doesn't undo the decade before that.

it's kind of mind boggling that steve, of all people, gets shit on the most in the fandom when the first two captain america movies (notably movies without tony btw) were the only movies with a shred of actual real competency and friendship in them.

[dorothywonderland]

I started doodling greek gods, it's over for me. I have to accept that I'm officially addicted to epic the musical

[raskolnyxov]

idk how donna tartt did it but every time i reread the secret history everyone gets more and more fucking annoying