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[tunastime]

A Gear of the Heart, Turning

so I'm back on an ethubs kick after so very long of not writing them (spacer really changes a man), and decided to take a quick peek back into the DBHC au by @shepscapades beloved. thanks for making me insane! ahhaha <33 etho... anyways enjoy them! <3

(2847 words) (check out DBHC here!)

When Etho comes back from exploring, Bdubs is lying in the grass.

It’s a crisp, cold, clear day. The sun is bright blue, bright enough to stare into and imagine what the burning feeling could be, the cold brightness, the way the sun carries no warmth but a fraction of what it could in the summer. Etho knows exactly what time of year it is, he’s never stopped keeping track, he’s never paused counting the days in his own personal, mental calendar. Fall. Getting colder every day. Nights growing in length, days getting shorter and shorter. In the corner of his eye, if he were to focus on it, he could see the date. For now, though, the sides of his vision held other data—temperature, his own lives, a list of players, his personal chances of success. He’s not here to cause problems, that’s not his job. He’s got another objective, something self-made. Survive. He’s supposed to be surviving. He is surviving, in fact.

If Etho could breathe, he would’ve taken in a lungful of that sharp, cold air, would know the way it hit the back of his throat. Instead, he feels the sun, and the air, and knows them in absolutes, and picks his way around the base and over to Bdubs in the grass. He’s not asleep yet—his heart beats a steady drum, calm and even. Etho notes the slow rise and fall of his chest, the way he sees his eyebrows twitch when Etho stands in the patch of sun he rests in. He pillows his head on his coat, his arms spread out. His eyes don’t open, but his hand reaches out, smacking the side of Etho’s ankle.

“Etho,” Bdubs says tiredly. 

“How did you know it was me?” Etho asks, a note of curiosity entering his tone. He tilts his head, a bit unnecessarily. He knows Bdubs can’t see. It just feels right. He’s been doing a lot of that, lately—doing things because they feel right, rather than because he has to. That’s human, isn’t it?

“Who else is gonna come stormin’ into our base and stand in front of me?” Bdubs says. Finally, he cracks open an eye, squinting up at Etho, brows furrowed. His hand messes with the lace of Etho’s boot, twisting it in his fingers. Etho notes it down—he doesn’t want to trip.

“I was quiet as a mouse, Bdubs!” Etho says. He smiles—just enough for it to be seen in his eyes. Bdubs can’t see behind the black mask on his face. 

Bdubs snorts. After a moment, he shuts his eyes again. His hand falls still, over his chest. He sighs out a profound thing, face softening as he relaxes again.

“Sure you were, Etho,” he says. Etho hums a little. He likes the sound of Bdubs’ tone when he says that—something about it feels so much softer than normal. Maybe unintentionally tired. Maybe he was asleep before Etho got here. “Get outta my sun, will you?”

Step out of the sun, Etho thinks. It lingers for a moment. Will you? The added request. He considers it for a moment longer before he does. He rounds around Bdubs’ head, drops down to occupy the space right at his right shoulder. The sun shines on both of them.

Etho takes a moment to shrug off the warm coat around him. It ends up on the grass beside him and so does his mask and he leans back on his hands. He soaks in the sun, wondering what that warmth could feel like if it were just a bit stronger, if the bite of cold around them weren’t so prevalent. He wonders how much Bdubs feels of both, if it’s more than him, if it’s less. Bdubs heart stays steady, his breathing even. He still isn’t sleeping.

“That better?” Etho asks, lowering his voice. Bdubs makes a noise, half-startled. Etho looks down at him, watching the way his face changes ever so as he recognizes Etho’s question. He gets the urge, just for a moment, to reach out, to run his hand through Bdubs’ hair, despite how greasy it must be at this point. He wonders if it would tangle. He wonders if it feels any certain way. 

“That’s much better,” Bdubs sighs. “Thank you, Etho.”

“Mhm.”

There’s a beat of quiet where they sit together. Etho’s hand sits behind Bdubs’ head. He considers that urge with full merit, listening to Bdubs sigh again, comfortable and content even in the midst of a death game. To be fair, Etho knows he isn’t. This is just a facade for a brief moment—or perhaps it’s Etho himself making him this calm. He can’t tell. Part of him hopes it’s the latter, rather than the former.

Bdubs tilts his head back, craning his neck to get a look at Etho behind him. He smiles a bit, furrowing his eyebrows questioningly. Etho tilts his head again, that questioning gesture, finally letting his hand rest at the crown of Bdubs’ head. Bdubs smile only grows, just a bit, just the smallest fraction. Etho doesn’t move his hand—he just rests it there. Just for a moment. 

“What’re you doin’?” Bdubs asks.

“Sitting here,” Etho says plainly. “Is that a problem?”

“You’re lookin’ pretty comfortable.”

“I am,” Etho says. He hums a little, to add to the effect. “You look comfortable yourself.”

“Oh,” Bdubs says, shutting his eyes. “Very much so.”

Etho hums again. He lets his thumb drag over the top of Bdubs’ head, muzzing up his hair, allowing just a moment of self indulgence. Bdubs doesn’t stop him. It’s nice. 

Bdubs watches him with a soft, partially confused, partially content look. After a moment, he shuts his eyes, leans his head back down so that Etho’s hand cups the top of his head. He sighs out and clambors up. Etho’s hand falls away after that, and something resembling a pang of longing makes his thirium pump stutter. 

Bdubs turns toward him, shifting forward until their knees meet. He blocks part of the sun over Etho, to which Etho nearly makes a comment about it, but it gets lost somewhere as Bdubs squints at him. Late afternoon, Etho thinks. The sun wasn’t high enough in the sky to last much longer. He’ll have to haul himself up and start a fire, soon enough, but Bdubs pins him with that look and Etho can’t move. Bdubs hasn’t even given him a request. It feels self-inflicted. 

“You’re staring,” Etho says, a bit obviously.

“You were looking at me funny,” Bdubs says. His mouth curves into a frown. Etho hopes it doesn’t look like he’s watching. Instead, Etho laughs.

“I wasn’t,” he says. Bdubs snorts, shaking his head. He reaches out, patting Etho’s unmarred cheek. The impression his hand leaves is warm—warm enough to almost be hot. Etho’s brain pings the sensation, the impression, the linger of touch, records, stores, repeats. If he had something to swallow he’s sure he would've done it, like he’s seen Bdubs do. 

Instead, he raises his eyebrows, and doesn’t say anything, and Bdubs laughs, and Etho doesn’t think another sound could be that good. Bdubs pulls himself up after that, pushing himself forward on his hands and knees, wincing at he twists to stretch, and sighs.

“Tango’ll be back soon to check up on us,” he says. “You wanna get started on a fire?”

Etho looks up at him, nodding slowly. He’s still lingering on that remnant of a touch, the weight of it all. He agrees to what Bdubs says regardless, and as Bdubs nods his thanks and walks away, still complaining about the ache in his back, Etho scoops himself off the ground. Above him, the sun has started to sink in the sky, and the shadows grow.

Etho makes a fire.

Tango comes and goes. He’s not much for sleep, which is typical for him as of late. He laughs as he talks to the two of them, as they bounce around stories about the day passed. Nothing happened—not really, nothing of note. It was slow, full of collection, of waiting, of planning. Tango talks of resource gathering as Bdubs drinks soup from a wooden bowl. It’s a nice slice of quiet, and Etho watches the expression on Tango’s face with a careful contemplation. His red eyes flick to Etho when he talks about their team, and Etho feels that bit of warmth, sharing that eye. Everywhere he goes, he carries a bit of Tango with him. Their odds look better with him here, but he can’t deny the sliver of human error that chips away at that success rate. He doesn’t know how much longer Tango’ll stick around. Surely, he can see it too.

The fire is still going when Tango picks himself up and dusts his pants off and says he’ll be back later. Etho believes him, reaches out to pat his shoulder as he stands with him. Tango jostles, smiles like he means that, too. Etho watches him go before he drops down beside Bdubs again. Bdubs stares into the flames, eyes far away, expression soft. Etho moves to sit next to him, their shoulders almost brushing. It’s Bdubs that closes the gap, pressing to his side, cheek against his shoulder. Etho stays still, stiffening, pretending not to care when Bdubs takes his hand. He can feel the uptick of stress as he sits still, feeling his pump thump in his chest.

Bdubs runs his thumb over the back of his hand, over the valleys of his knuckles. He traces them out with the pad of his finger, and the spark of sensation travels up Etho’s arm, like it could tickle the back of his neck, raise the hair there. It registers, again and again, dull and present but not unpleasant. He leans back into Bdubs. Bdubs laughs a little, just a huff of air.

“You better not be sleepin’ on me, Etho,” Bdubs says, the undertone of sleep coming to his voice. Etho makes a noise of disagreement.

“Never, Bdubs!”

“Mm,” Bdubs sighs. “Good.”

Bdubs lets go after a moment, peeling away from him for just a beat, before they’re sitting side by side again, Bdubs still pressed as close as he can be to his shoulder. Etho notes the way Bdubs shivers, imperceptible. Etho’s the warmest thing besides the fire, here, all moving mechanical parts and expelling heat to keep cool. Not as much as Tango might, but enough to matter. Enough to be a little bit warmer than Bdubs, right now.

Bdubs sighs again, shutting his eyes. Facing Etho, now, Etho can watch his expression change as he starts to warm up, softening, sinking. Bdubs doesn’t open his eyes for a long moment, but his hand comes up, his right hand, left hand replacing the one holding Etho’s wrist hostage. He reaches up to cup Etho’s face in his palm. His warm hand slides up to cradle the scarred side of Etho’s face, and Etho can’t help the immediate reaction of simulated skin fading to white, sliding away where Bdubs’ warm, calloused hand makes contact. Bdubs runs his thumb over a particular crack near his jaw, just a simple, slow motion. Etho wishes he could sigh. It would be the proper response. More than just leaning into the touch and shutting his eyes, more than not knowing why it was nice, and just knowing that it was. It sends sensation after sensation after sensation, the tingling feeling running over his skin and up his cheek and neck. Does Bdubs know? Can he see what it’s doing? Surely he can’t hear the stutter, the way his pump works faster, any of that. If he were to open his eyes, would Bdubs be looking at him? What would that expression look like?

He opens his eyes anyway. He lets them slide open, ignoring the very human response to shut them again, to soak in the touch, the feeling of being held. The feeling he was realizing he would like if he could tie the two together. Bdubs is looking at him, but his expression is soft, almost concerned. Hesitant, maybe. He pauses the drag of his thumb over Etho’s cheek as Etho meets his eye, even as Etho’s expression is low-lidded and unfocused.

“‘S that nice?” Bdubs asks softly, voice going hoarse as it hits the low register. 

Etho blinks, slow. The edges of his vision fuzz out, like his optical unit is failing. He opens his mouth, realizing he’s failed to preemptively form a sentence. He makes a sound instead, then tries again, stuttering.

“I don’t know.”

Bdubs frowns a little. Etho leans hard into his palm. Not like that. He doesn’t mean it like that.

“It’s nice, but I don’t know what nice means,” Etho manages. He’s not making any sense. “You don’t have to stop.”

Bdubs’ frown fades, turning soft, warm, into a smile. He laughs a little, a sound Etho registers as a laugh. Good enough to be a laugh. 

“I hear you, sweetheart,” Bdubs says gently.

Etho smiles, laughs a little. As much as he’s learned to mimic, so far, something that’s started to morph into his own little sound. 

“You getting soft on me, Bdubs?” he asks. He can’t help it—the amused tease comes too natural to kick. He feels Bdubs pinch his cheek and recoils, face scrunching.

“I am not,” Bdubs barks. His voice is flooded with amusement though, and Etho laughs with him. He can’t help it. Bdubs laughs, and he does too, and whatever thing he’s experiencing feels incredibly fond and sweet and he hopes he’ll soon be able to actually pin it to something. What was all that? Who was that, squeezing itself into Bdubs’ body, to touch Etho’s face in a way that he’d never really done before? To admire? Was he admiring? Looking at him? Memorizing like Etho was? Etho watches Bdubs turn away, searching for something to snuff the fire. He pretends not to notice the flush on Bdubs’ cheeks.

Bdubs is such an odd person. 

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get a proper grasp of human emotion. Maybe that’s the whole point.

Bdubs snuffs the fire. When he does, he turns to Etho. The mask finds Etho’s face again, and Etho registers the falter in Bdubs’ face when he looks at him.

“Gotta protect that face of yours, don’t’cha?” Bdubs says, swallowing down something. Maybe there’s a hint of emotion Etho is missing. He can’t really tell. His vision sharpens back into clarity as Etho rises to a stand. The sky is just starting to get dark, the air cold, and Bdubs looks over to the wooden structure they’re calling home—more than just the fort. A warmer space than just the fort.

“You know it,” Etho says playfully. That alone cracks the facade of Bdubs’ discomfort. He smiles, shaking his head, rolling his eyes in the good-natured way that Etho always recognized as good-natured and not malicious. 

“You comin’ to bed?” Bdubs asks. He jerks his head over to the wooden structure, body halfway turned to it. He doesn’t say anything else, lingering on Etho’s unsaid answer. Etho shrugs, sticking his hands in his pockets as his shoulders rise. 

“Maybe. Probably not tonight.”

“Mm,” Bdubs says. “Right. Forget you don’t need to sleep half the time.” Then he laughs, and at the last second, adds:

“You weirdo.”

Etho barks out a laugh—something wholly his own, surprised, startled by Bdubs’ comment. He watches Bdubs turn away from him, still chuckling, still smiling to himself. After a beat, he calls back to him, and Bdubs turns. Etho shrugs off his coat, holding it out to him with one hand, the other still in the pocket of his pants. Bdubs tilts his head, frowning a little.

“You’re not gonna get cold?” he asks. Etho shakes his head.

“I’ll be alright,” he says, smiling. It feels nice to smile. It feels nice that it meets his eyes.

“Okay, Etho,” Bdubs says, taking the coat. He pauses for a moment, draping it over his arm. It feels good. Maybe that’s what Bdubs means by things feeling nice. Feeling. Maybe. “Have a good night, alright?”

“I’ll try, Bdubs,” Etho says, letting his tone be as affectionate as is appropriate. Bdubs nods his head. That smile doesn’t leave his face for as long as Etho can see him.

Bdubs wanders off to their room, quiet. Etho finds that place in the grass again. He’ll check in on him in a bit, spend the rest of the night planning, working, and spend some time resting when he knows he’s able to tomorrow. For now, though, Etho drops himself into the soft grass still present around the base, in the snow, feeling it cold but not yet damp, waning from the evening light. Feeling. Feeling. Feeling. Maybe he can get used to feeling. Maybe he’ll understand feeling on his own. He looks up, into the sky, and tries to see if there are any stars he recognizes.

They wink their way in from the gold-blue sky, and Etho watches. 

[icelogged]

[whaliiwatching]

let’s put it to music

prompt: boombox

[hdra77]

just realized i havent doodled him as much so uh have some more disarray fp doodle!! aswell as handing out some fresh crumbs of lore :D

[otrtbs]

ART HEIST, BABY OUTTAKES (From The Vault)

SUMMARY: Two scrapped scenes from Art Heist, Baby! that didn't make the cut. Done in celebration of the one year anniversary of Art Heist, Baby! being complete! (Where did all the time go?)

WORD COUNT: 2k

(okay, for clarity, the first scene takes place sometime between chapter 15 and chapter 16 of Art Heist, Baby! and the second scene takes place during chapter 37 of Art Heist, Baby! One Regulus and one James POV <3)

“Oof.” 

Regulus can’t help the smile that flashes across his face, there and then gone, at James’ little noise of surprise. James doesn’t have time to say anything else before Regulus’ mouth is on his, kissing him in fervent, electric delight that only secrecy could inspire. 

Regulus always loves this best, pulling James into some room on the third floor after he dismisses the rest of the class. His hands running over the soft fabric of James’ shirt or the smooth expanse of his torso underneath as he hears Mary and Lily tear through the halls just beyond the closed door laughing, or Peter humming to himself softly as he makes his way down the stairs. All of them completely unaware that just behind the door they unknowingly walked past, Regulus was snogging James Potter's face off and attempting to shove his hands down his trousers. It’s times like these when Regulus curses himself for making all his stupid rules about the heist. He’d much rather be able to drag James through the hallways of this house and into his bedroom without a care in the world of who they happened to pass by.

“If you could be anything in the world, what would you want to be?” James gasps, his head falling back against the wall Regulus has him pressed up against. “But you can’t say what you are now, you have to pick something different.”

His cheeks are flushed and he’s halfway to looking debauched already. Just how Regulus likes him. 

“Because, personally, I think I would want to be a dragon or something,” James continues once it’s clear Regulus has no intention of answering. “A red dragon that could breathe fire and fly. That would be cool. Oh, or I would be a Renaissance jouster. I could ride up on my horse and ask you for your favour in front of the whole kingdom. That would be fun.” A beat of silence. “What about you?”

Regulus lets out a derisive noise as he detaches his lips from James’ neck. “Seriously?” 

“You could be anything. Not just career-wise. But you could be a rock in a stream or a cloud or a microwave.” 

“James,” Regulus isn’t proud of the way he almost whines at this. They have very few minutes before lunch will be ready and then they’ll be called downstairs. 

“Just humour me for a minute, Regulus,” James grins as Regulus pulls away, shushing him slightly in case someone walks by and hears them. “Please,” he whispers, still smiling radiantly. 

This wasn’t a new thing for James. He was always asking Regulus all sorts of questions. When he said he wanted to know any and everything about Regulus, he meant it. And of course, because James was James, Regulus would always indulge him.

“Okay, give me a moment to think about it,” Regulus sighed, furrowing his brows. “And I can’t just pick to be who I am now and move on with it?” 

“Nope,” James shook his head, placing his hands behind his back as leaned against the door. “That’s against the rules.” 

It was a silly question, but Regulus still found himself thinking about it thoughtfully. If he could be anything, what would he want to be? 

Strangely, his mind wandered to Sirius. 

Sirius, who was so close but still seemed so far away. Sirius, who would throw himself in front of Walburga and Orion’s rage to protect Regulus every time, even when Regulus didn’t deserve it. Sirius who would knock on Regulus’ door in the middle of the night just to make sure that he was okay, who asked him what he was learning in school when his parents couldn’t be bothered, who made sure Regulus kept warm in the winter, who always remembered his birthday even when nobody else did. And how did Regulus repay him? He chose to stay with his parents instead of leaving with Sirius, even after all of that, and now Sirius hates him, and probably always would. 

If he could be anything in the world, he supposes he’d want to be a good brother, or, at least a better one than he was in this life. Or maybe he’d want to be brave. Brave like Sirius. Brave like James. And maybe that bravery would help him to be a better brother. 

He frowned at the sinking feeling in his chest. He wasn’t sure he liked this game anymore. 

Quickly, he looked at James who was eagerly awaiting his answer with a smile on his face. 

James who wanted to be a fucking dragon or a jousting knight wanted this game to be fun. Something light. 

“Well, I guess I’d be the Prince of the kingdom giving you my favour in front of everyone before your big joust,” he says after a moment, giving a small smile as something in James’ face softens. 

“You’d want that?” He asks, looking at Regulus through his glasses that were still lopsided from Regulus’ previous fierce snogging. 

Regulus bit his bottom lip and shrugged. Going where James went didn’t seem like such a bad idea. If James would let him, if James would want him to. Maybe some of his bravery would rub off on him somehow. “Sure, why not?”

James’ hand shakes as he reaches for the pink sticky note. He can’t bring himself to feel embarrassed by it, even though Evan and Barty are standing right behind him, ready with the painting and a ruler and a tape measurer and everything else you could possibly need to ensure that a painting is perfectly centred and straight on a wall. 

For a minute he just stares at it, hand outstretched and trembling, taking in Regulus’ curly handwriting. James wonders if Regulus put a lot of thought into this sticky note. If he hovered the pen over the sheet of paper and thought long and hard about what painting he wanted. If Regulus went through every room in their house envisioning the perfect place to hang this painting, trying to place the pink sticky note above the spot where he wanted their bed to be, or in the hallway across from the kitchen, or upstairs. Taking it down and re-sticking it to different places until he found the perfect one. He wonders if Regulus had gone over every painstaking detail in his mind just as James had done over these last two years, or if he had just known. 

It’s silly, hesitating over a sticky note like this. It had fallen down from its spot on the wall numerous times over the weeks and months that it had been there. So why was it so hard to take it down now? It’s what Regulus wanted, and James never had any issue with the other sticky notes. He buzzed around the house, taking each sticky note down with him as he went about unpacking Regulus' books and planting a garden and filling up the closet. He didn’t throw any of the notes out either, though. Instead, he kept them in a small box at the back of his closet for safekeeping. That’s exactly where this sticky note would go if he could just bring himself to take it down. 

Barty lets out a little sigh from behind him and James turns around just in time to see Evan elbow him harshly in the ribs and the spell is broken. 

With trembling fingers James pluckes the sticky note off the wall, a little bit of paint coming up with the reinforcement tape he had added to ensure the paper stopped falling down, and held it to his chest tightly. Quietly, without looking away from the spot where the sticky note had been he whispered to Barty and Evan, “Alright, let’s put it up.”

That night James dreams constantly. 

He dreams of the waves crashing against the shore of his favourite beach with reckless abandon and he dreams of car chases and gilded frames and the smell of turpentine, but most importantly, he dreams of Regulus. 

“It’ll be sunny and warm there. I love the sunlight you know,” Regulus murmurs sleepily.

They’re in the house in New Hampshire together and Regulus is starting his favourite activity of only opening up in the dark, when he doesn’t have to see or be seen, but James doesn’t mind. 

“Hmm?” he hums, pulling him closer. It’s late, and James guesses that he only has a couple of hours before he has to be up learning about the heist from one of Regulus' many classes. 

“In Brazil. The warmth, the light. I don’t know, I feel like the rays will hit my chest and dislodge all the dark sludge from my heart, and for a moment I can just sit there and be golden and bright. It’s foolish,” Regulus sighs and James can hear his frown, even in the dark. Always like the tides, pushing in and pulling back.  

“I don’t think so,” he responds quickly. “I think it’s nice.” He attempts to hold Regulus tighter, to warm him up somehow because he sounds a little too sad tonight for James’ liking and he’s starting to feel strangely cold in his arms. “But for the record, I’ve always thought you were pretty fucking bright and brilliant, Regulus.”

Regulus has a habit of seeing himself as something dark and stormy. Something turbulent and destructive, but James knows better. James knows the truth. 

Regulus hums lightly, something soft and sweet. “I know, James. It’s a nice thought.” 

James wants to say something else, he wants to run his fingers through Regulus’ hair and kiss his forehead and convince him of his warmth, but before he gets the chance to, he wakes up. 

For a long while, James just lays there, flat on his back, unmoving in the aftermath. He listens to the beat of his heart and his shallow breathing. It had been several weeks since James had dreamed of Regulus like this. 

He used to hate it. He used to find the reminder of Regulus’ absence unbearable when he opened his eyes, but these days he doesn’t mind it. 

When he dreams of Regulus now, it makes it missing him a little bit better. He always misses Regulus, but this way it feels like James just got to see him. It makes it seem as if the last time James got to see Regulus was just the day before instead of two years ago. 

“Oh, Regulus? Yeah, I just saw him last night.”

“I held him in my arms only yesterday.”

Sometimes it’s a comforting thought to have. 

“You would love Brazil, Reg,” James whispers in the dark to his ceiling. Alone in his empty bedroom. “I hope it’s sunny and bright wherever you are. I hope you're not cold.” 

Barty and Evan stick around for a little while after the painting is put up. They field several calls of anger and astonishment from Sirius both from their phones and from James’ phone. They attempt to convince James to come back to Vegas with them for the thousandth time, but he declines. It’ll be good for him to sit in the house for a while, now that it’s finally finished. 

It feels like an end in so many ways, but not in the mournful way James expected it to. It felt as complete as it possibly could be without Regulus. Always there, like a chip in his favourite mug. Not shattered, still usable, but always with a quick sting of pain if you nicked your lip on the chipped rim. Still, it was the only mug James would ever want to drink out of.

He looks forward to discovering what new beginning this end will bring about for him. He can only hope that it's a nice one.

While he doesn't take Barty and Evan up on their offer to come back to Vegas with them, he does take them to the airport. He walks them as far as they will let him go and waves goodbye until they are out of sight and begins the journey back to his little house. 

He thinks about the simple things. Things he needs to buy from the store– more lemons, some cleaner, cinnamon. He makes a note to call Marlene to fill her in on his recent adventures, and reminds himself that it’s about time to check the financial accounts to ensure everything was still running smoothly. 

He lets these thoughts fill his mind all the way until he gets home, and when he opens the door to his house, to their house, he sees the painting. A ship sailing bravely through the blue ocean, cutting through the waves into the unknown expanses beyond. He smiles to himself as he sees it lit up in a brilliant warm glow. The rays of the sun kiss it gently and fill it with radiance. Then, ever so softly, James closes the door behind him.

[baeshijima]

i have been missing u terribly. that is how it is going.

[iconless]

psst… check out my mlp crystal empire royal family redesigns… the pink one on the top left is my redesign of that fuckass princess skyla toy! oh and bottom right is flurry heart ! he’s transmasc now :3 (he/they/she) if enough ppl r interested ill post their human designs and tell you about the rewrite/nextgen/au thingy i redesigned em for!! :D

[palossssssand]

Reconciliation

Old dome squadmates Trito and Kinoga get together at Trito’s place to catch up after years apart and a meeting by chance on the surface.

⚠️Warning for suggestive content below + implied chest trauma

After several weeks of chipping away at this, the comic is finally done! Very happy to have rendered a full 7 pages of oc stuff. Please give it a read!!

read the full 7 page comic on twitter! <-please do not click if you are a minor and view at your own discretion, this link contains explicit 18+ content. Thank you!

For the lore, includes stuff from splatoon Octo Expansion: Trito and Kinoga were a part of an octarian military squad living in the domes, Kinoga being their squad leader that many looked up to and admired. There were 6 of them who considered each other to be their closest friends. Upon hearing about the tests from Kamabo Co. and the allure of the Promised Land, Kinoga wished to seek it out in order to find a better life for their squadmates. A difficult decision, since it meant leaving them all behind, promising to come back and take them there.

Kinoga enters the metro trials and soon realizes that the Promised Land isn’t what they expected, their hope crumbling when they encounter one of their sanitized squadmates Agara, who followed suit to the metros soon after. Kinoga narrowly escapes, eventually making a break for the surface, carrying the shame of unwilling to return for their squadmates with them (it’s justified, of course, there might not be an easy way in, they might get caught again, Agara is gone)

Trito enters the Metro not too long after Kinoga does, wanting to catch up to them, and an accident that occurs in a test early on results in Trito’s near sanitization, giving him his scar. Terrified, and realizing what happens to his fellow octolings, Trito is unable to return to his squadmates, not wanting to break the news of their loved ones’ untimely fates. He hides away on the Metro until the events of OE happen and Agent 8 dismantles Kamabo, opening an opportunity to escape to the surface. Unwilling to face the possibilities of going back, Trito takes his chance to leave, starting a new life and feeling that it’s for the best if he doesn’t acknowledge it, though he missed his friends dearly.

Years later, Trito and Kinoga run into each other on the streets of Splatsville by chance, and the implications of them both being on the surface and alive hit them, having to carry the burden of leaving their loved ones behind and finding out the truth, knowing the other felt exactly the same, not knowing the fate of their squadmates and not wanting to think about the possibility of them being gone. They have a tearful reunion about it, and set up a meet later, to sit down and really talk, and get into a brief argument when the topic of returning to the domes comes up. Trito’s in disbelief that Kinoga never went back down to check on the rest of their squad, wanting them to have been a better person than him, who was too cowardly to do so. Eventually they do reconcile, and end up at Trito’s place to hook up, where the above comic takes place :]

[crossedwiress]

there's glitter on the floor after the party

[thed0ct0risc0ming]

I have such silly moots...

(Polite Tag so you see this WIP :3) @xx-sketchy-xx

[thatoneandlonelyemo2005]

there is no way in hell that my coworker used to watch 92sies as a kid

[volivolition]

prepping for my Bonus Days. i love tutorial agent lmao

[kuroosdarling]

hello friendz !! i am packing my bags and moving to @tetzoro !!! please come join me if ya want ^_^

back to navi.

[httpiastri]

Good morning babe 🥰🥰🥰

(I’ll take no responsibility of how you’ll react to this pic… I’m staring at his neck for days now and decided today is a great day to share it with you 🤭)

(The way I’m obsessed with his neck is insane, you’d thought I’m a vampire in disguise based on how much I want to bite and suck on that thick neck 😭 leaving marks behind, kissing & licking them better 🫠🫠🫠🫠)

(My horny ass can’t be stopped if it’s about him)

(when I say Silvo was my fav weekend, this is one of the reasons 😩 - and his amazing performance ofc.)

(His hair is sooo long here too I want to run my fingers through it, grabbing it gently also to move his head aside to have more access to attack his neck 🫠🫠🫠)

Okay I’m done, I’ve said what I said 🫣 sorry not sorry

ohooooooo noooo… this………………… this has made me feel so many things…….. i feel unwell

[istherewifiinhell]

i dont have anything to say for myself its just my niche okay. warning for both the volume AND. unique. auditory experience of g1 lmao.

[VD: G1 transfromers clip, of a Megatron and Starscream altercation

Outside, dark, lightening strikes. Soundwave turns off some audible signal, and it begins raining. Megatron: here are your orders Thundercracker, I- Starscream: What is your excuse Megatron! You let the enemy GET AWAY! You- [Megatron knocks him to the ground] Ouf Megatron walks over and pick him up by the throat, Starscream coughs, and is grabbing at his hand: Cross me again Starscream and I'll reduce you to titanium fragments. Starscream struggling Megatron tightens his grip, scrabbling at Megatron's hand: But we had the Autobots disoriented. We could have eliminated them. Cut wide, their standing close, Starscream still being choked. Megatron: We'll do that at our leisure. When are more important work is done! [He throws Starscream to the ground] Low angle, up at Megatron, lightening strikes behind him. He points down, hand large in frame: You have had the only warring I intend to give. [He gestures to himself and then points back down] Starscream scowls. Decepticon badge bummer.

well thats a lie but we can forgive him cause i assume this moment cursed his dick...

anyway i have more formats of this scene below cause i got excited :D

[Gif of when Megatron is choking Starscream, from above. Specifically the moment where he pushes Starscream back and tightens his grip. Starscream's head tips back and he makes some interesting faces, hands struggling. END]

ID: Four frames of the choking, the different faces Starscream makes. 1. Snarling mouth shape. 2. Distress/pout? 3. Mouth wide open, head tipped back. 4. Eyes bulging as hes really getting choked. END

yay yippee yay <3

[ID: The two instances of Megatron pointing downward, slightly different body positions and hand gesture. 1. Squared shoulders, hands less downwards. 2. Shoulders angled, hand larger/more central. END]

to add to the great library of megatron (or galv) interacting directly with the viewer

[mars-themenace]

HERE IT IS I MADE IT AND I AM VERY VERY PROUD!!

it may have taken me only 2 minutes but ssshhhh it was still an effort