#my subconscious... it remembered...

[celestialtrolls]

HEH

i was looking at my profiles after working on angel's and i did something by accident and i'm absolutely leaving it

Rennra's profile on the left, Angel's on the right

[autumn-may]

terrisas really funny ithink

[warning-heckboop]

Hazel, Jasmine, and Winn find their plans to mend fences disrupted when they discover Anti-Fairy magic is evident in Dev's reoccurring nightmares.

So do you guys ever get so invested in a fake episode that you made up in your head that you make a fake title card and synopsis for it? No? Yeah, me neither.

[ectochoir]

Had a dream last night that people started doing those “RIP [name] you would have loved [thing]” posts but about Hazbin characters based on when they died and they just slowly got more unhinged. So like, someone posted “RIP Valentino, you would have loved Madonna.” and it just escalated to “RIP Vox, you would have loved the Chernobyl Nuclear Meltdown”, and “RIP Alastor, you would have loved Guitar Hero 2 on the XBox 360”

[formulanni]

🐎‼️

Tag list: @st-leclerc @rubywingsracing @saviour-of-lord @three-days-time @the-wall-is-my-goal @albonoooo @ch3rubd0lls @brawngp2009

[thespacecaseace]

woe, submas ggg au be upon ye.

soooooo uh. there's a lot to say about this, me and my pal @artisticwizard have thought up a like entire dlc-like story line. boy separation, boys reunition, the pokemon popularity poll canonized (in a way), etc.

i have more sketches lined up (hopefully) so ill explain more in detail about the au later. for now i'll explain the premise/start of the au below.

In this AU, the twins have been slotted into the premise/plot of GGG as a pair of additional gods.

Ingo and Emmet are the twin gods of transportation: arrival and departure, the destination and the origin, etc. They run a shared two-way train through the towns of the Grove, from BuzzHuzz to the Grove Cove.

Their god room entrances are in the two engine cars located at the opposite sides of the train, yet they share a god space from ascending together.

Additionally, their engine cars can only move forwards; Ingo can only move towards the Spire while Emmet can only move towards the docks. They rely on one another to pull the train back and forth in tandem.

One day, a letter arrives from King that suggests though they've always move together, haven't they always wondered who's the better god between them? Who can pull the most weight, who can run the fastest, who is the most popular between the two? Clearly one of them has to be the best god of transportation.

Ingo and Emmet, who love competition and challenges, had already exhausted most physical comparisons (with most ending in a tie). Popularity is new territory though. Sounds fun, so why not?

Ingo and Emmet host a contest poll for who's everyone's favorite god between them (only between them, because they'd be grossly outpaced by other gods like Inspekta), which is kind of Splatoon Splatfest-like in festivity. The mood starts off great, and the Bizzyboys are a great help with decorating and hyping up the contest.

Maybe a little too good. Over the course of the event, some people start getting a little too hyper and competitive. The poll is now no longer fun for the weird groupies/chronically online sub groups, and they're quickly ruining everyone else's experience. Eventually it gets wayyy too serious. The twins fail to notice how bad it's getting.

Eventually Ingo is announced the winner. Both twins are happy with the results; it's Emmet's groupies who aren't. Harassment between groupies escalates to the point that one day, while the train is waiting to depart from BuzzHuzz's station, someone goes and decouples Ingo's engine car from the train cars.

When it's time to depart to the Grove Cove, the train, unknowingly, leaves him behind.

Now Ingo and Emmet are separated on the two furthest ends of their tracks, unable to reverse and reconnect their cars. They remain that way for what seems like an eternity...

...Until one day, a new Godpoke arrives.

[hoofpeet]

Do Hisuian people know what shinies are... if people barely know anything about pokemon the first time someone sees a shiny it's probably like ????? wgat the fuck

[sysig]

Recently had a silly Handplates dream where Papyrus was trying to snoop around Gaster and Alphys’ lab, but didn’t know who Alphys was and so was trying to pass it off as his own lab lol (Patreon)

[itsalrightmeow]

Haunted by the past...

[fairyroses]

He was about to kill you, Lex. Or divulge something you didn't want me to know.

— SMALLVILLE, "Forever" (4.21)

+ bonus from "Arctic" (7.20):

[muzsmocsing]

@pinkhimecat and I were talking and a very important topic came up:

If you bit Shen Qingiqiu, what type of mushroom would he taste like?

[herefortheships]

Lydia sleeping on one side of the bed like she's leaving a space open for Betelgeuse at the end there. 😌

No but seriously she totally is? Subconsciously there's a space for him in her life always. I know I keep saying this, but she totally has feelings for him, buried inside her. What those feelings actually are is something she has to figure out. (She started that journey in BJBJ; she even got to face him and banish him and all. Did that manage whatever feelings she has for him though? Nope).

She's sleeping alone and yet she's leaving all that space next to her like she's sleeping with a spouse. The visual storytelling here implies she's longing for someone to take that space.

And who else is she longing for if not Betelgeuse? It's not Richard, hello. Ok it's past midnight and I'm exhausted so maybe I'm reaching. But this makes sense to me rn so I'm posting.

[phantriicks]

Who is it that you see reflected in those shades of yours?

[copepodkisser5000]

this is for my selfshippers with insomnia; and/or a hyperactive mind, intrusive thoughts, all the other bad things too that can keep a person from resting...

you f/o holds you during the long, horrible, sleepless nights. when you feel so alone, kept awake by all the noise in your brain, they're there for you, all night long.

they're there to remind you to take your medication for it, if you have it. they help you form a healthy routine with it, they want to see you feeling better. they might even train you to have a positive association- maybe you get a kiss every time you remember?

and when you do get to sleep, and when you dream of your f/o, it'll be all the more sweet.

[potato-cerealkiller]

having young justice thoughts again and. wow. they really just exemplify the desperation and intimacy of teenage friendship don’t they.

like this line my god. there’s this forced proximity that constructs such bone deep bonds. you’re not just close cause you have similar interests or worldviews, you’re close in a way that can mean you know each other better than you know yourself. and there’s this paradoxical immortality and ephemerality to it because in the moment all you focus on is the feeling, that need to cling onto each other that lengthens seconds into hours. but underneath it all is that looming threat of adulthood that threatens to rip it at the seams through the pressure of responsibility and expectation.

as much as I have mixed feelings on graduation day lol. I think it captures that conflict in an interesting way. because despite their bond, it’s not enough and they rip themselves apart under the pressure. BUT. and I think this is a core part of teenage friendship (ESPECIALLY queer teen friendships but conversation for another day). they rebuild, they drift towards each other again and sew patches on the rips. because ultimately, nothing can hope to replace that bond they have with each other. so they’ll stitch themselves back together no matter what, not just cause they want to, but because they HAVE to.

[smytherines]

I've been so fully invested in this spies are forever x severance au that I just had to write something for it. I'm not sure if I'll post it on ao3, all four people who are into spyverance are already beloved mutuals, but here's a little drabble based on this conversation between @szollibisz and @missholloween that I haven't been able to stop thinking about

"Curt... what are you doing?"

Shit. Curt glanced up at the mirror, but he didn't need to see Owen lingering in the doorway to know it was him. That strange lilting accent had been rattling around in Curt's head ever since he'd first heard it crackling over the intercom.

Curt scrambled to figure out something else-- anything else-- to tell him, but he had a dull pair of office scissors in one hand and half his beard was in the bathroom sink, so he figured he was already busted.

"I just-- uhhh--" And what could he say? That three days ago the new hire, fresh off another failed escape attempt, had mockingly told Curt that he'd be handsome if it wasn't for the beard? That he'd spent three days just thinking the word shave over and over again, hoping his outie would somehow get the message? That for some fucking reason he cared about the opinion of a man who had been nothing but trouble ever since he arrived on Chimera's severed floor?

He couldn't say that. So instead Curt silently watched in the mirror as Owen removed his dark brown suit jacket and folded it carefully over the top of a bathroom stall, unbuttoning the sleeves of his crisp white shirt to roll them up to just below his elbows.

"Alright, let's see it then."

Curt sighed and finally turned to face him. 

Owen's brow furrowed. His lips made a tight line, one finger pressed up against them like he thought it might be enough to hide that smirk on his face.

"We don't have any razors here..." Curt heard the whine in his voice as he trailed off, staring at a spot on Owen's collar to avoid meeting his eyes.

"Mm." Owen nodded, stepping in toward him until Curt was practically leaning up against the sink. "May I?"

God, he was close. Close enough that Curt could smell his aftershave, or cologne, or whatever he wore that smelled so good.

Curt managed to look up at him, and the bathroom felt smaller somehow.

Owen's eyes traveled down to Curt's hand, his palm outstretched, those long, slender fingers wiggling expectantly until Curt finally figured out what he wanted.

"Y'know, last time I gave you something you almost split my head open with it," Curt said, placing the handle of the scissors in Owen's hand, "So if you could do me a favor and--"

Owen held his free hand up in front of him, "I will try my level best not to break the skin this time."

"You get one," Curt warned, only half-joking. He still had a scar on his forehead from the mug Owen had launched at him. "Next time I hit back."

"Noted." 

Suddenly Owen's fingers were tipping Curt's jaw up, his thumb pinching onto Curt's chin to tilt his head.

Curt tried to remember the last time another person had touched him. There had been a handshake with Cynthia a few weeks earlier. But Curt had to formally request it, and it had been every bit as uncomfortable as he expected. 

Tatiana hugged him once, not long before her unexpected departure. And thinking back on it, that was the only other time Curt could remember someone touching him on purpose.

With his chin tilted up, and Owen hovering over him with pursed lips and those dull scissors, it was hard to avoid looking directly at Owen's face. 

And that wasn't a problem for him, really. Because Curt found that he liked looking at Owen's face. The crooked grin that peeked through on the rare occasion where he wasn't scowling. Large, deep-set amber eyes that always seemed to be looking for an exit. Eyebrows that twisted and wriggled almost as much as Owen's hands did when he spoke. 

Owen made him feel... something. Which was unnerving, because most of the time Curt couldn't feel anything but numb. Numb and nauseous, sweating and shaking more and more as the hours ticked by. His mouth was dry and his head was sore, and every day was the same boring bullshit in the same boring place.

And when Owen moved his hand away to begin cutting, Curt desperately wanted to pull it back down and press it against his skin. To feel that churning in his gut, that pressure in his chest. Feel the way his heart raced and he could hardly catch his breath. Feel something.

Owen's eyes narrowed, and he wasn't looking at Curt's jaw anymore, and just for a second Curt wondered if Owen felt something too. 

But it was just a flicker, so brief that it might have been a trick of the light. 

"We could--" Curt jolted out of his thoughts as Owen spoke again, "Do try and stay still, love," he tutted.

"Sorry, I was..." Curt didn't know what he was doing anymore. "What were you going to say?"

Owen glanced up, scanning Curt's face quickly and uncertainly before getting back to work. 

"I was going to say that if you're really that desperate for a change, we could always botch this. Give him--" Owen flicked his eyes toward the ceiling, "no choice but to shave it all off."

"Does it really look that bad? I thought it looked kinda... cool?" Curt said hopefully. His hands were shaking, but he tried to keep his voice even.

Owen's head bent down, tilted low enough that Curt couldn't see his eyes. His skin prickled as he braced himself for Owen to laugh at him or insult him. But instead Owen's voice came out unexpectedly soft and quiet.

"I think it would be an awful shame for you to hide yourself away."

That felt like something too. But before Curt could comment on it (not that he could think of anything to say), Owen had resumed cutting. 

"So that was a 'no,' on the sabotage idea, I take it?" Owen said lightly, like nothing had happened. So maybe nothing had happened, at least not for him. 

Curt took a breath, louder and more ragged than he intended. "Nah. He grew this beard, so he's probably already lost the will to live--" Owen chuckled at that, "I don't want to push him over the edge."

"You're far more merciful than I."

"Clearly." Curt laughed. Owen had threatened to chop his own fingers off as a threat to his outie, so the bar was admittedly pretty low.

"Well, if you won't allow me to take chunks out of it, I suppose my work is done here." Owen smiled, just slightly. His hand returned to Curt's face, brushing off the hair he had just trimmed. 

Owen's hand lingered on Curt's chin, two fingertips barely touching Curt's cheek, and Curt's heart was beating so loudly that he could hardly hear himself think. They were only a couple of inches apart now, and he wondered if Owen could hear it too.

Owen swallowed thickly. There was something in his eyes. Something more than a flicker. Something definite.

That was when Curt realized that his hand was on Owen's hip. 

He quickly snatched his hand away, his mouth already trying to form an apology that his mind hadn't come up with yet. He tried to put space between them, but Owen had backed him up into the sink and there was no place left to go.

Owen stumbled backwards. His face contorted painfully as his back connected with the far wall of the bathroom. 

"Owen, I--"

But he was out the door before Curt could finish. 

And there he was, alone again, shaking, with nothing but the blue tile walls and the blue tile floors, and one dark brown jacket.