#restless as FUCK

[aslyran]

Looking out for a sign

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x Dc AU: Tim doesn’t rest, not even in Death.

It’s a heart attack that gets him, well, that and the insane amount of fear toxin flooding his system. He was dead for a full three minutes before he watches (how was he watching?) his eldest brother get his heart going again and get his unconscious body to the cave. Alfred gets him onto bat-life support and Leslie looks gravely at his family after she’s done her best to heal him. They decide to keep trying, they don’t want to believe he’s gone.

Tim watches in fury. He’s more useful than this, he’s not just going to die and let the family mourn him! Tim sets to work trying to understand what’s happened to him and he realizes he must be a ghost. Therefore, if he wants to understand ghosts he needs to go where ghosts are, and thankfully he just read a JLD doc saying to avoid Amity Park at all costs.

It’s takes him a second to get used to flying at full speed, but he finds himself surrounded by strange people in a strange town and… he notices himself becoming more visible. He’s able to interact with more and more objects, he even picked up a pencil! Poltergeist is a step forward in his plan, Tim accepts this change of pace.

Then Tim meets Danny, a normal human kid who looks like he could be brought into the manor and given a cape, who looks straight at him.

“Wait, who are you? You didn’t die in Amity did you?”

“No, I died in Gotham. I came here to understand how I’m a ghost and how I can get back to my dying body. I just need a few answers.” Tim explains, and notices that his voice isn’t his own, like it’s a different language entirely that comes out.

“Well, uh, I dunno about going back to your body but it’s not safe for you to be here. The GIW are looking for lost souls like you that people won’t notice go missing. So get back to your family and find peace. Im sorry but that’s really the best advice I have.” Danny answers.

Tim begs him for answers on the GIW. Begs him for any answers at all. Danny shrugs him off each time, tell him that he’s just a ghost and he needs to move on before he gets hurt or becomes a problem.

Tim decides if he’s a problem, he’ll probably get more answers.

Soon enough, he’s stepping into the end of a battle where Phantom is getting Skulker into a thermos, and demands answers, and if not answers help.

They brawl, and Tim’s training as Red Robin gets him farther than a lot of ghosts. And then, when he knows he’s beat and he’s about to share thermos space with the robot jackass (who he can interrogate and then build his own robot) Tim realizes something.

“You’re still alive, aren’t you? You’re Danny, black hair and blue eyes.” Tim says and suddenly Phantom is as still as the dead despite the accusation.

“How the fuck- dude. Okay, you know what? Fine. Lets go talk, you’re clearly not giving up and I need you to never say that shit out loud ever again.”

Because blackmail works in life for Tim, blackmail also apparently works in death.

He’s given all of the info they have on the GIW, he’s introduced to ghost technology and how it works with ectoplasm. He’s told about the portal (although they refuse to sneak him into the house to see it- he can handle a few lasers, ugh) and he’s told about the general sequence of events in Danny’s life/death.

And then Tim is suddenly back in his body in Gotham.

The family found a way to bring him back and he’s 100% alive, no longer ghostly, but he retained all his memories.

“We have a war against the government to start” are not the first words his family expected to hear from Tim post death.

[tangledinink]

absolutely obsessed with gemini Donnie's piercings! They suit him so much! and i bet theyre fun to draw too!

you also mentioned tattoos! what kind do you think he would get? like what kind of designs and where?

Ah thank you! ; w ; I just think they're fun <;3 he deserves piercings... And yeee he has quite a few tattoos as well that he builds up over the years--

both his arms host meticulously planned, carefully considered, personal and meaningful full-sleeve pieces that were done professionally by sorrelshine's older sister, leafwhistle (she's the one who pierced donnie's eyebrow in that comic!)

his legs are where everything else goes. there are dozens of different pieces patchworked all over-- some done by leafwhistle, some by other artists, some by sorrelshine (who is not a professional, let it be known, but knows how to use a tattoo gun!), some even done by himself. he let leo do one once. mikey has done several. there's everything from stick-and-poke stars to little grayscale robots to brightly colored flowers down here, and he'll shove new things wherever they'll fit whenever he feels the urge.

[ gemini au ]

[writingfreezer]

the day after a very big argument, right as the sun started to set, you arrived home. it was eerily quiet as no one was there to greet you, no open arms expecting you, and no lips to kiss fondly.

it had been like that ever since the morning. you were just getting ready when neuvillette finally glanced at you, giving you the the first and only type of contact he had ever given you since your heated dissagreement last night. it wasn’t a loving glance, or anything of the sorts, really. his eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw him like everyone else saw him; cold and emotionless. except, that wasn’t a good thing. no, for you, it had became such a habit of seeing his eyes light up at just the sight of you that this felt… bad. really fucking bad.

you sighed as you plopped your bag down and started taking off your shoes to put them on the rack. did he really mean the things he said last night? you thought. that you were clingy and sometimes too unbearable to talk to?

a soft, almost too subtle to notice platter was heard from a window nearby. you looked out and saw that the sky had suddenly darkened. weird, you pondered, before continuing to remove your jacket. the forecast didn’t say anything abo-

wait. pause. let’s put on our thinking caps here. another, and another platter was heard. the soft platter turned into a heavy rain sooner than you could think, and you lit up like you just had an epiphany.

obviously, that light quickly dissappeared from your eyes as soon as you realized what this meant.

”shit. fuck,” you mumbled to youself as you stumbled next to the sofa and ran up the stairs faster than any track team could ever dream of. soon enough, you reached your shared bedroom and immediately slammed it open.

the sight greeting you was exactly what you were expecting, but still, it made your heart ache. your stomach twisted, threatening to break if you didn’t do anything about it.

there, on the neatly-folded bedsheets, lay neuvillette. his face was hidden from view as it was buried into his big, soft hands. hands that you have had the fortune of holding many times. hands that now haven’t even graced you for the last 24 hours.

hurriedly, you rushed to sit on the bedside. the bed dipped heavily as you effectively slammed yourself down, making neuvillette’s graceful body jump a little.

he quickly turned around, facing the other wall so that you couldn’t see anything but his back, clothed in nothing but a t-shirt. (probably some trousers too but.. you never know.)

”oh, dear..” was all you could mutter, the sight of it all making your words stuck in your throat. multiple sentences formed in your head, suggestions of what you could say. you ignored all of them and moved closer to him.

”dearest? could you look at me, at least?” you asked, concern lacing your tone. it probably showed up on your face too, because when he did finally turn around to greet you, he immediately turned back around.

”do not… archons.” neuvillette whimpered. whimpered. if you were in any other state of mind, you’d tease him about his tone, but the sight before you dismissed the thought entirely.

a soft sigh escaped your lips and you moved closer just to run your hand on his side. it wasn’t much, but it was just what he liked. soothing touches, relaxing shapes being drawn into his skin. it was what grounded him the most. thank gods for your years of marriage.

”i am-” he hiccuped, uncharacistically loudly. ”apologies… it’s hard to-”

”do not apologize for the state you’re in, please. we both know that there was no preventing this…” lightning struck a few hundres meters outside your house, and that was your cue to gently drag him to face you, making him unable to hide anymore. from you, and from his problems.

he blinked a couple times as soon as you lifted your hands from his face, probably blinded by the unromantic big light right above him. you quickly jumped off the bed and turned it off, practically sprinting back and landing right next to him on the bed after.

”hi.” you smiled as his eyes finally met yours, and although his face was flushed, wet, and expressing nothing but sadness, you still found your chest swell up in delight.

his bloodshot eyes fluttered down for a second before looking up again. a laugh escaped his lips, too quiet and contained to be something he actually wanted to express.

”i am- uh.. apologies. i am sure this is not the best way to be greeted after a long day..” he averted his gaze away to somewhere behind you. you looked around to see if anything of note was there, but there was nothing, so you looked back. right! he’s probably just zoning out. you gave yourself a mental slap to the cheek.

you climbed forward, moving your hands to softly hold his arms. ”hey, look at me. i’m here, and you’re here, and we’re safe. just you and me.”

his eyes quickly shaked and returned to look at you, having to tilt his head up a little now that you were practically sitting on him.

”hi.” you said, smiling.

”hello.” he reliped, also smiling now.

a chuckle erupted from the both of you, almost making you forget about the harsh words that were said yesterday. almost.

”so,” you started, moving closer to him to rub soothing circles on his biceps. ”do you have anything to say in particular, orrr…”

the man below you sighed and cleared his throat. he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. his expression turned sour, and then he tried wiping his face as well before trying again.

”i am… deeply sorry about last night. i expressed some things that were not true, and for that i feel bad.” he pointed out the window with his nose. ”very bad.”

”the things i said were only crossing my mind because i have been quite stressed recently, and… i haven’t been able to tend to your needs, or mine, for that matter. quite frankly, i was so engrossed in my own mind and work that you didn’t even cross my mind, which is a very rare occasion.” he huffed out a smile at his own words.

”i will not let this happen again, but for now, i am sorry.”

you blinked a couple of times and smiled.

”wow. that was very.. elaborate. even for you.” a hand reached out to hold your own, and it was as soft and gentle as you remembered them. to think, that you had been missing the simple touch of a hand after being separated for only a day.

neuvillette wheezed softly, looking away politely. ”it was hardly anything. i’d be able to think clearer if i hadn’t been bestowed this awful curse of letting everyone in fontaine know when i am feeling down… not that anyone knows that it’s me.”

”i know it’s you.” you smiled, softly shifting to lay down next to him.

”of course you do,” he replied, turning around and wrapping his arms around your body protectively.

╱|、

(˚ˎ 。7

|、˜〵

じしˍ,)ノ

[faunandfloraas]

Birth date analysis // Seungmin - September 22nd: The Day of Restless Drive.

September 22 - Virgo/Libra

The Day Of Restless Drive

Those born on September 22 have a restless drive. Usually they bring the one they are working on to completion only to immediately set out on a new one without rest. They are also capable of handling several projects at the same time. Those born on this day have a low boredom threshold, and consequently demand challenging people and situations. They can be outgoing and dynamic types at one time, and solitary and unapproachable at another. In either case, their strong character is unmistakable.

Often September 22 people oscillate between an offensive and defensive posture. In one sense, such postures may be one and the same since a good offense is the best defense and vice-versa. Whether in a broad social context or on a personal level, the issues and ideas those born on this day are most often concerned with involve fairness and equality. In general matters pertaining to the delegation and exercise of power. In putting forth their arguments, they can be very ironic, witty and outright funny. Their humor, however, is not for everyone as it is liable to be off-beat, sardonic, perhaps even macabre.

Those born on September 22 can hide a warm heart under a forbidding exterior, but generally will only open up to people whom they deeply trust and value. Even then they may find it difficult to open all the way, principally because their orientation is highly realistic and the ironies of life all too visible to them. This day carries insight and clarity of vision both literal and figurative. September 22 people are excellent judges of character, and capable of sizing people up very quickly. Those few friends whom they allow into their inner sanctum they value most highly, usually for life.

September 22 people can often have a greater effect on those around them than they realize, and indeed can register a high degree of shock value. Because of their often disturbing impact, they should seek to be more aware of their effect on others, both friends and foes alike. True warriors in the battle of life, they must take stock of their armaments and defenses, using them judiciously and effectively, and avoid isolating and alienating themselves.

Strengths:

Individual

Perceptive

Well-directed

Weaknesses:

Guarded

Acerbic

Dark

[tethered-heartstrings]

anyone else get cabin fever from their own flesh and bone

[buckynats]

Doing physical arts and crafts while unmedicated with an attention disorder is like:

Wow I'm having so much fun Making Things With My Hands (:

Does one stitch. Does three more.

A thought occurs: I should look this up immediately

[Loses ten to thirty minutes to the unceasing void]

Spend several minutes untangling a knot. Curse aggressively. Decide this whole project sucks and you'd rather be doing something else more immediately rewarding. Like scrolling!

Scroll mindlessly. Get restless. Return to project.

Wow I'm having so much fun Making Things With My Hands (:

[meowspartyworld]

collab with my enemy @0xywave ft oj and Clara

[mysleeangel]

In my restless dreams, I see that town. Silent Hill. You promised you’d take me there again someday.

[uncanny-tranny]

"haha, are you an art gay, a science gay, or a math gay"

Actually, I find the division between art, science, and math to be a very nebulous idea and useless when you actually interact with the universe. The more you learn about the world, the more you surround yourself with art and science and math, and you'll never be able to see it any other way and it will be beautiful. When I take your hand, it won't be the science of our atoms closing the distance between us that we will experience, but the math of our fingers interlocking and the art of our bodies that we will experience. You are math and you are science and you are art, and nothing will make you any lesser💛

[animentality]

Youtooz figurines and Funko Pops are so fucking ugly and disgusting and vulgar and vile and I hate them all I hate them they're landfill in the making they're trash unworthy of rotting they're culture in decline they're a repulsive waste of resources they're pointless collectibles designed to make you think they're artistic and represent a piece of your humanity but they're soulless and hollow blank button eyed plastic that represent nothing but a commercial investment in your emotional dissatisfaction with your own life.

[feroluce]

So this ficlet-ish thing was inspired by @hydrachea, nsfw super genius extraordinaire, but also by the fact that in addition to Boothill's left eye being cybernetic, I like to hc even the parts of him that look human aren't fully natural. I mean the dude eats bullets, after all. I think he should also have vents in his mouth so he can literally blow smoke/steam, it would look super cool. Think Father Gascoigne or Studio BONES' Todoroki. We as a fandom deserve that!!

So anyway, of course, sometimes these vents get blocked up and need to be cleaned manually. Thankfully, Dan Heng is super helpful ☆

Like there's one day where Boothill is lazing around in the archives, fresh off a bounty and happily soaking up the luxury of the Astral Express after however long he's spent tracking his prey through all the dust and dirt with almost no rest.

Boothill likes it in the archives. It's not silent, but it's quiet. There's no music and only muffled voices from outside, but there's the hum of all the computer systems. It makes for a nice place to hide away and recharge when he's just finished exhausting himself.

And besides, Dan Heng is there.

Sometimes the two of them talk back and forth, but today it's mostly quiet...except for-

"I didn't know it was possible for you to get sick."

...Except for Boothill having to constantly clear his throat. That's the thing about your mark trying to flee into the desert. You either go after them and get sand everywhere (and even worse, sticky sand once it gets all bloody) or you wuss out and lose out on the bounty. Personally, Boothill likes being able to afford to eat.

"Grit's stuck in a vent somewhere, 'n' the usual maintenance ain't gettin' it. I'll prob'ly have ta manually dig it out." But later, when he's not laid out half asleep on Dan Heng's extra futon. Usually after a chase as long as this one took, he can shut down for almost a full day. He doesn't want to get up yet.

Something shadows over him, and reflex demands Boothill's eye open. Dan Heng steps around him on his way to some drawer built in the wall on the other side of the room or something. Boothill closes his eye again.

From under his hat he hears the sounds of rummaging, drawers sliding open and shut, the swish of a long coat. The shadow returns.

"Sit up, just momentarily. I have something to help." And Boothill groans a tired don't wanna, but he does it anyway, he hauls himself upright into a kneel. And then he sits up a little straighter because he realizes Dan Heng is standing right over him.

Dan Heng tells him "open your mouth," and Boothill's jaw pops open without his permission, without even a second thought, and hey, what protocol in there ok'd THAT?!?!

Before he can really unpack whatever the heck that just was, though, Dan Heng murmurs for him to say so if he needs them to stop, and then he's sliding a long, hard rod down Boothill's throat, tipped with some soft little brush he probably uses for all his fancy archival equipment.

Dan Heng tells him the handle of the brush is straight and can't be bent, he needs to move his head to be able to reach the vent in his throat. Boothill hums affirmatively; he can't do anything else with his mouth occupied.

Dan Heng's free hand holds him by his jaw, tilts it up slowly but firmly so he has to look straight up at him.

Boothill feels dizzy.

The cycle of blue blood through his artificial heart whirrs just a bit faster, his temperature sensor pings an internal alarm to warn for imminent overheating. Boothill curls his fingers into the guard over his knee as Dan Heng carefully brushes at the dust irritating him. All other sounds- the hum of running equipment, the occasional beep from the computers, the noise of the crew outside of this room- seem to pull away, until all Boothill can focus on is the steady and measured breathing from the man above him.

"Almost done."

Thank the aeons, maybe one of them likes him after all.

"Your tongue is in the way... I'm going to hold it down, ok?"

Nevermind.

The fingers holding his jaw curl around his chin, thumb slipping past open lips to dip into his mouth and pin down his tongue. One of his teeth catch on the digit, breaking skin just enough to bleed a drop where he can taste it. Dan Heng doesn't even flinch. Another temperature alarm pings off in his brain, then another, then another.

Boothill has never been shy about eye contact but oh, god, it nearly kills him when dull green irises flick away from their task and look down right at him as his mouth is held open. He quickly squeezes his own eye shut for some relief.

With his vision cut off, the rest of his senses automatically recalibrate to compensate. He can hear every breath even more distinctly now, every soft inhale and exhale, feel the strain in his neck, the softness of the brush, the hard floor beneath his knees, the hand holding his jaw and the fingerprints that feel like they should leave burns in his skin, the taste of Dan Heng heavy on his tongue-

Forget it, eye open, eye open!!

"Alright. There's one last pebble stuck."

Boothill had been trained to endure torture, back on his homeworld. It was part of being in a gang, part of being a bounty hunter.

Somehow, keeping himself quiet and still as Dan Heng inches the brush even further down the back of his throat is a profoundly similar experience.

The seconds tick by, Dan Heng's brow furrowing, face growing ever more concentrated and Boothill struggles not to watch him too closely, fights down the noise that suddenly tries to escape him as the brush withdraws-

"Swallow."

Stars and aeons, Dan Heng is going to be the death of him.

Boothill swallows. He feels it when the movement finally dislodges the loosened pebble from his vent.

His face feels shockingly cold now bereft of touch, even though Dan Heng's hands are always cool. He asks to see, and Boothill's mouth is already open again to show him, even as he belatedly realizes he could have just told him it had worked.

"Good." There's the slightest smile on Dan Heng's lips as he finally, mercifully, leans back out of his personal space, goes to put away the brush. "That should feel better now." Boothill spends a moment dizzy and dazed, feeling the need to blink spots out of his eye even though his vision is clear. He still hasn't moved off his knees.

What the fudge.

[kaboom--bitch]

ANYWAY, huge fictive euphoria moment recently. Was at an arcade and there was this game where you've gotta physically run around and step on certain coloured tiles and avoid others--there's a few modes you can pick and you can do multiple within the time limit if you're quick, but that's the gist.

My guy do you know how much my god damn "gotta go do everything all at once" ass ADHD brain has been wanting a physical task like that. Jump over the thing, get to this thing real quick, don't die, go get that thing over here but avoid the other thing that's approaching--yknow. Normal shit for me? Not just words or basic day-to-day mundane shit? Oh my fucking god. Euphoria comes from the weirdest places, but I guess an arcade game is better for my health than actually going out into active battlefields so I'll take what I can get lmao.

[vaguely-concerned]

playing through where the dead must go with an ingellvar rook and......... oh. rook LOVES loves the grand necropolis actually huh. you can hear it in every line they say. I'm. so full of feelings I didn't expect this to hit so hard but between the voice lines, banger music and astounding visuals (TELL ME this game is ugly and that the visual style sucks while you meet me in these halls of grieving I fucking dare you) I feel second hand drenched with grief and melancholy on the inside what the fuck

(feat. lucanis coming along unwittingly meeting future in-laws and realizing that rook has been clenching their teeth with the effort of only seeming about 5% of the freak they actually are the entire time he's known them fhsadkjfsa. local man learns that the one thing future spouse is deadly fucking serious about is their role as a watcher. it's a little hot)

[in-restless-walks]

Simon & Garfunkel, 1982-1983 tour

[kacievvbbbb]

*Puts hand on your lower back and gently leads you down the path* walk with me for a moment. Think about it;

Young Mihawk, Young Shanks, Laurie confessing to Jo speech from Little Women (2017). Right before Shanks pulls off the robbery and heads to the East blue. the last time Shanks asks Mihawk to join his crew the only time he really means it.

*Grabs your arm as you start to walk away* wait wait- just listen.

Shanks saying all this? Right before he knows he’s about to steal something very important from a navy ship and would probably need to lie low for years. His way of begging Mihawk to come with him? Insane fucking cut my heart out.

Shanks: Sail with me?

Mihawk: …..What?

Shanks: Sail with me.

Mihawk:….(sigh) Shanks can we not-

Shanks: no no its no use Mihawk , we gotta have it out I have loved you ever since I’ve known you Mihawk I couldn’t help it, and and I tried to show you and you wouldn’t let me and I must make you hear me now and give me an answer because I cannot go on like this any longer, I gave up rum I gave up everything you didn’t like I’m happy I did it’s fine and I waited and I never complained because I, you know I figured you’d love me Mihawk and I realised im not half good enough and im not this great man and I-

Mihawk: Shanks! No.

And Shanks would keep pushing because to a young shanks whose only ever had crew as family and who never really got over his abandonment issues; Joining the crew is saying you’ll stay and staying means you love him enough to not leave him. And Shanks can’t deal with anyone else leaving him.

But of course all this does is push Mihawk away. They leave Shanks to rob a marine ship and Mihawk to leave a trail of bodies in his wake. And the next time they see each other Shanks has lost an arm and Mihawk’s entire world came crashing down.