#teeth picking

[yetihideout]

Shelley Winters Teeth Picking Remix 😬

[notquiteaghost]

"it's okay, i can peel back the layers of you until i find the soft and gentle core of you you've had to work so hard to hide"? no. no, it's okay, i know you're hollow; i'm here anyway. you don't have to pretend it isn't masks the whole way down. whatever face you want to wear, i still love you. i don't need you to be good or unflinching or the antonym of violence. if i did, i wouldn't be here. i wouldn't ask that of you.

[seagiri]

sorry artstyle changed again

+ extra thanks to cabinet my head is spinning

[jedi-starbird]

The JA books and subsequent woobification of padawan Obi-Wan have people overlooking a key fact, which is the innate ability of all 14 yr olds to immediately lock onto your deepest insecurities and fucking eviscerate you. You look at TCW Obi-Wan's bitchiness and tell me he did not have this ability but dialled up to 11 cause he's also a psychic force-sensitive.

I fully believe padawan Obi-Wan was terrorising Qui-Gon, the reason that man's always running ahead and leaving his padawan behind is because he's avoiding having to explain his life choices to the galaxy's most judgemental teenager. Initiate Obi-Wan is aggressive, padawan Obi-Wan is passive-aggressive.

[strategicjazzhands]

This is how the scene went, right?

[wandaverse]

meet me in the pale moonlight…

vampire!wanda please suck me dry, i’ll worship you for eternity

[finngualart]

drawing eight legs on a horse is so silly and annoying and i was thinking about how they could be more like... spooky astrally projected legs that only appear when said horse is walking between worlds

[bacchuschucklefuck]

doing chibi is a good design exercise bc it forces u to think on shapes n essential details, essentially thumbnailing ur designs. its also a terrible design exercise bc it ends up looking cute no matter what

[macdenlover]

i really can not stand the “fandom is so fun we’re all just projecting and making shit up” thing. because no i actually deeply admire the canon of my favorite media and all the intention and care and craft put into it. we are not the same.

[crunchchute]

my attempt at a bunch of my fav artists styles :] idea by sootnuki!!

i would love to do more but this was already a huge challenge

if any artist here dislikes this/is uncomfortable with it/any reason i can take it down or turn off reblogs etc. otherwise i hope its ok 🫡 im not gonna tag anyone just gonna let it do its thing in the wild lol

[capriciouslyterminal]

Calling it now, or manifesting (whatever you want to call it), I want the Jon Matteson frog knight to be mortally wounded in the climax of Cinderella’s Castle (perhaps to save Ella).

As he’s dying his little puppet death and I’m crying Ella tells him he’s a real knight and thanks him for his help, perhaps even declaring her love for him in a very platonic way (or a romantic way) and she gives him a little kiss.

Cue flashing lights and magic sound effects and who puts down the puppet and stands up but human man Jon Matteson who was The Frog Prince the whole time.

[sorcerersandskillusers]

Between Dazai calling Oda a "balm for the soul" to Mori and him giving Akutawaga a whole lecture about how he couldn't beat Oda in 100 years.

I love the mental image of Dazai just going into tangents about how great Oda is around other mafia members and them being completely baffled when they meet him, and he's like the most underwhelming person ever.

Mafioso: "Why does one of the top five executives never shut up about you?"

Oda: "I really don't know. He's been like that since I tied him to a bed and force-fed him porridge"

Mafioso: "YOU DID WHAT!?"

[densewentz]

lucanis, literally every time he and Rook are sweet talking: my beautiful angel with a disorder, you are the most stressful thing in my life

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone^2 - Separation Strikes

"Why do I have to go?" Damian asks, surly and accent-thick, it sounds more like a demand and a whine at the same time. Sitting on the kitchen table with his arms crossed, in a green t-shirt that Danny bought him at a whim when he was at a thrift shop, and black shorts, he's never looked more like a kid. There's a little backpack leaning against the table leg, Damian begrudgingly picked it out when they went shopping.

His English has grown in leaps and bounds since Danny found him -- er, or more accurately; since Damian was spat out in front of him. -- and very little did they have to use the translator on Danny's phone these days.

Which meant one thing: Damian can start attending school comfortably now. And 'go' was the Amity Smiles Child Care Center. Danny and Jazz went as kids until they were twelve, and Mom and Dad actually managed to convince the center director to let Damian enroll for the summer.

And it was summer; Damian starts today.

"Because," Danny says, trying and failing to hide the smile pulling on his face, his heart warm and soft, and also laughing at Damian's expense; "being cooped up in the house all day isn't good for you, and you're starting school in the Fall. And, in Jazz's words: you need to have interactions with other kids your age for the benefit of your social development. And besides, it's only for the morning."

Damian's nose scrunches up, and his eyes roll so violently that for a moment, Danny thinks about joking that he'll get his eyes stuck like that. He holds his tongue; his little brother already looks like he's five seconds away from committing an act of violence.

"I don't need social interaction." Damian sneers, his cheek in his hand; a neverend pool of pride. "I am--"

"The Blood of the Demon Heir, better than everyone else." Danny cuts off, waving his hand in dismissive circles, his voice mockingly deep. Damian's brown skin darkens in embarrassment, and he scowls at Danny. "I know, bud. But Jazz is right, -- don't tell her I said that, -- you should be around kids your age."

Especially when he starts First Grade in the Fall. Honestly -- Danny was a little nervous to send him to the center. Damian's long since cut the habit of trying to kill or otherwise maim people, his palms ache-burn with gentle reminder, but his tongue was as sharp and as cutting as his sword. He still struggles with trying to quell it when he's upset. Vicious child-weapon that he once was, and will never be again.

Danny knows that it comes from a place of fear and defense, that Damian lashes out because that's what he's been taught. That at the end of the day, he doesn't really mean what he says, and he's learning to express himself better. But the other kids don't know that, and kids can be unforgiving and cruel.

Danny just...

His slow beating heart sighs, melancholy settles behind his lungs.

He doesn't want Damian to be outcasted. He doesn't want him to be alone.

Not like he was.

Damian sneers again, but says nothing, his shoulders crawling up to hide his ears like a turtle receding into his shell. Danny watches him silently, leaning against the kitchen counter with his own arms crossed. The clock hanging on the wall ticks in their ears -- it's almost time to go.

He watches Damian, careful, and so he sees it when his little brother's stone-shell pride and petulance shudders, and cracks. The darkened furrow of Damian's brows weakens, and for a moment, slants back.

Ah, Danny thinks, his own shoulders slumping. Epiphany washes over him, and his sad-heart soothes in warm understanding. So that's what it is.

His head tilts, and his hair spills over his shoulders, messy and fluffy, tickling his neck. Some of his bangs fall into his face. "Hal 'ant easabiatan ya habibi?" He asks, voice low and soft. Just as Damian's English has improved, so has Danny's Arabic. He still stumbles over himself some days, and Damian says his accent is trash, but they can have whole conversations now in Damian's mothertongue.

(Danny was incredibly proud of himself for it.)

Damian's face darkens, his blush spreading across the rest of his face, and he ducks his head down. Grown-out curls, black-brown and springy, falls over his eyes. "La!" He yells, loud and indignant, and not at all convincingly. "La 'asheur bialtawaturi!"

He was nervous. Danny can see it now, in the hunch of his shoulders and the tightness of his face, and faintly, he can feel it too. In the ecto-rich air of the Fentonworks House, it thrums, barely-there, like a hummingbird behind his lungs.

Danny can't stop the little, fond smile that forces itself across his lips and upticks the corner of his mouth. "It's okay to be nervous, little brother." He says, he sounds like Jazz when he says that. He doesn't think she'll mind him borrowing the nickname.

He pushes himself off the counter, and Damian refuses to look at him, hiding behind his hair and in his shoulders. It takes three long strides for him to reach the table, and Danny turns, plants his hands on the ledge, and hoists himself up. Right next to Damian.

Damian leans into him easily when Danny's arm wraps around his shoulders and tucks him close to his heart. He can feel his ear against his ribs. Danny hunches over him, resting his chin on Damian's head. "It's so okay to be nervous, actually. I was nervous, Jazz was nervous." He tells him, scratching the blunt edge of his nails across his scalp. "Everyone gets nervous."

"'Ana last aljumiea." Damian mumbles, as small and feeble as he was the night on the OPS Center balcony, realizing that his mom and the League weren't coming for him. Realizing that he was replaceable.

Danny's half-working heart squeezes; in grief, in rage, and his faucet eyes sting. He breathes in carefully, and presses his nose into Damian's hair in a loving faux-kiss. "You're right, you're not everyone." He says, steady and strong, because if he's not a pillar for his family, who else is he?

He can feel Damian's eyes flick up to him, and Danny smiles into his black-brown curls. Tilts his head to squish his cheek against him instead, hand dropping to thumb below Damian's lashes. "You're Damian Fenton," Because the adoption went through a few weeks ago, and he's still riding that high, "You're my baby brother. O' Artist Extraordinaire, Kickass with a Sword, Vegetarian and Wonderful Co-Ghost Hunter."

Damian tries to stifle a smile, and fails. Score! Triumph gathers in Danny's gut, his smile grows wider. He squeezes Damian tight, and only releases him so he can look him in the eyes. "And if anyone gives you a hard time at school, and I mean anyone--"

Danny has bad memories of the teachers looking the other way when the other kids were bullying him, all because he was a Fenton.

And Danny, bleeding heart, bleeding hands, loves his family more than he will ever love himself, will never let Damian experience the same injustice. Not if he can help it.

His eyes narrow, and the buzzy-film of ectoplasm covers his eyes, making them glow, "--You tell me. And as your awesome great big brother-and-technically-dad-but-only-biologically, I will handle it."

Damian, wonderfully made, full of light, his little brother Damian, giggles weakly at him. A sound that's worth it's weight in gold. The scary eyes dissipate, and Danny matches the sound with a cock-eyed, impish grin, dragging Damian into a soul-crushing, too-tight hug. The kind that only annoying older brothers can give. "Got it?"

That gets a proper, if short, laugh out of Damian. He wriggles in Danny's arms, trying to break free. But Danny does calisthenics, his arms are as big as Damian's head, so it doesn't work. "Understood, now, daeni 'adhhab ya 'akhi!"

Danny laughs, loud and bright, and loosens his hold just a smidge, only so he can adjust his grip and hop off the table with Damian still in arm.

"Never!" He crows, hoisting Damian slightly. One eye flick at the clock, and in one quick move, he secures Damian under one arm like a football, and hooks his foot under the strap of his backpack. Kicking it up, he tosses it into the air and catches it with his free hand, and slings it over his shoulder. "Now, to the car, my boy! Before we're late and Mom and Dad get charged."

Damian groans, childish and dramatic and long, but his face is all squished up with a wide grin and glee. Danny can taste his joy beneath his tongue.

"And, if my little pep talk didn't encourage you," He says, reaching the door to the garage, flipping Damian up onto his hip instead. "If you have a good day today, I'll make you bal mithai when you get back."

Like all kids at the promise of sweets, Damian's eyes widen and glitter. Danny loves seeing Damian be a kid, it's his favorite thing in the world. "I will!"

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Being a melusine must be either sensory hell or sensory heaven

I grind my teeth (I have retainers so I chew on the plastic)

And I pick at my nails

And since melusines don’t have a seen mouth / they don’t open it when they talk. Idk if grinding my teeth. Will be as sensory pleasant

I need to be a little soft melusine just to feel my otter like fur and scream into Foul legacy.

I need to just scream into foul legacy’s floof

you can ABSOLUTELY scream into Foul Legacy's fur :D

everything is softer when you're Melusine, like you're viewing the world from inside a shiny, colorful bubble. your sense of smell, touch, and taste are all different, heightened, and it's quite overwhelming after you initially wake up in your new form. you do eventually get used to it, partially because Merusea is blissfully peaceful and softly lit. you have teeth to chomp and gnash, but your mitten-ish hands have no nails to speak of- a stick of coral will substitute alright, you find, a dead branch that you slowly pick and whittle away as the days go by. it's not the same, not really. but it'll do for the time being, especially on days where everything is overwhelming and you just need a single, simple task to focus on

luckily, Foul Legacy is always there if you need a moment of quiet and warmth. he tilts his head, watching you pace, before trilling softly and tapping the pearlescent floor with his claws. it's a question, see- a way to ask if he can hold you, to make sure you're alright with him touching you. if you nod he scoots over and ushers you into his lap, gently patting your back and holding your head against his fluff, soft and thick and free of tangles ever since you took to giving him regular brushings. you bury your face into the lilac mane, any screams and shouts of annoyance muffled, but you can feel the repressed laughter shaking in his chest as your little tail twitches and lashes much like how Legacy's wings flare up when he's angry

even the Creator gets overwhelmed and irritated sometimes!

[swallowedabug]

1x01 // 2x01