#that im keeping in my back pocket

[theellipelli]

why only copy the technique :( why not also copy all the angel swag while you're at it :(

[xxplastic-cubexx]

How would you redesign Headmaster Magneto? Just out pf curiousity because while he served it didn’t feel like… Erik.

i have to keep it 100 i have no idea without just. rerunning his original design but with a palette swap LOL but we try around here

[gomzdrawfr]

that's all I ask

[good-beanswrites]

One more scene from Fuuta-Es convos with @waivyjellyfish for now :3 I liked exploring Es' post-canon mindset as an ex-murder investigator... Like my other drabble, I don't have the details worked out but Milgram is over and they're living at the Kajiyamas' now.

What Fuuta didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

It’s what Es told themself as they slipped into his clothes. They’d spotted the outfit at the bottom of Fuuta’s closet a few days ago, then decided to bide their time. With Fuuta and his sister downstairs having breakfast, there was a small window of opportunity now.  

Es stuck their arm through the red-striped sleeve. They still didn’t know what possessed them to put it on. 

Was it the appeal of something familiar? In a world devoid of all memories, they enjoyed the idea of putting on at least one outfit that they’d seen hundreds of times on their little music video screen. Is it possible to be comforted by someone else’s memories?

Was it old habits? They’d spent each trial doing anything and everything to feel closer to the prisoners. To take a peek into their minds. To step into their shoes. This was taking it a bit literally, they knew. Although everything was over and they had no reason to connect so deeply to any of the prisoners, Es couldn’t get away from the duty they’d obsessed over for so long.

Maybe it was just their troublesome curiosity, always driving them forward. There was a small part of them that hungered for more information, no matter the reason. They were perfectly aware that putting on Fuuta’s red and blue tracksuit would probably offer them absolutely nothing new, but they had to try. Something might be revealed to them, and they needed to know. 

Es stood in front of the full length mirror. They turned one way. They turned the other way. They shifted their arms. They cocked their head.

Sure enough, nothing. 

They took note of the little details. It was a little big on them, (though  it wouldn’t take them long to catch up to Fuuta’s size). It was neither fashionable nor tacky. The material wasn’t exactly comfortable, but at least it felt warm.

But, did it make them feel any closer to Fuuta?

They contemplated a moment, thinking of all that he may have done in the outfit. There were so many classes these pants had walked to, so many arcade coins that these pockets had held. Es wondered if his friends ever nudged the shoulders of the jacket playfully. Maybe they weren’t the type. It had probably seen it’s share of all nighters. And also lazy days spent in bed, or sick days laid up on the couch.

They puffed their chest out, thinking of the confidence Fuuta may have had wearing this. They pulled the hood over their hair. It had likely seen just as much as his hesitance. How many times had he sunk into the thick material for an escape? Or was there an opposite effect – did he feel so comfortable in this that he could commit murder?

Es stared at themself.

There came some shuffling out in the hall. Before Es could move, Fuuta was shouting to his sister and bursting into the room.

“Will you get out of my fucking hair if I bring it to you right –” he froze. “Now...”

Es, too, was frozen in place, their eyes wide. 

“I-I’m sorry.” They started unzipping the jacket. “I saw it and… I didn’t mean to –”

“ – It’s fine,” Fuuta muttered. He waved his hand dismissively. He started shuffling things around in his desk drawer, angling his head down, out of sight. His voice was strained, though it wasn’t as angry as Es had been expecting. “It’s not like I’m ever gonna wear it again.”

Es carefully folded the jacket over their arm. “I wasn’t trying to bring up the past. I was just…” What had they been doing? 

“I said it’s fine.” 

“I know it’s not.”

“You don’t know anything. Wear it every day for all I care. I was just gonna toss it.”

“You still can. Or, I can.”

“Nah.” Fuuta retrieved what he was looking for. He paused in the doorway, taking one last look over his shoulder. “Looks better on you, anyway.”

Es straightened in surprise as he left. They took another look in the mirror. They allowed themself a small smile. They might have undersold how comfortable it was.

Now that they were thinking of it, they did look pretty cool… Maybe that was all there was to it.

[firstfullmoon]

does anyone have an ereader and read lots of poetry and/or pdfs on it and if so which ereader would you recommend

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

oooo it's been a while since the last snippet :]c it's another fantasy au one where I'm! Putting! Barnaby! Through It!

a minor warnings: implied/referenced major character death <3

 No one eats dinner, and Frank won’t stop tapping his spoon against his bowl. Tok tok tok it goes, over and over again.

Poppy made a simple stew from their provisions, but only Eddie and Sally make an attempt at tasting it. Their halfhearted ‘it’s good’s don’t pierce the pressure weighing down on them all. Barnaby swears he can taste it, thick and cloying. 

Already he keeps catching himself looking for Wally. Where is- he starts to think, and then he remembers the moment Wally fell with a spear piercing his chest, and the grief rises so fast it nearly drowns him in a heartbeat. Barnaby can’t bring himself to try and hide it behind anything but a stony mask. In any other situation he might try to put some levity into the group. Cheer up the sad and empty faces staring into their meals. 

He wouldn’t be able to think of a single lighthearted thing even if he wanted to. He doesn’t.

Tok tok tok-

Shuffling from Howdy’s tent has everyone glancing over at it, and Frank’s spoon stills. Howdy briefly woke up while Poppy was cooking. All he did was sit up, look at everyone, then pitch to the side and vomit. They got him into a tent before he passed out again, mumbling something about puppets. Frank made a comment about how Howdy was supposed to be a bit out of it, not at fae-drunk levels of hazy. Eddie had muttered back a dejected apology, and after that the camp was silent until Poppy’s announcement that dinner was ready. The spoon continues tapping when the shuffling stills.

Tok tok tok-

Since Eddie and Sally saying that dinner is good, there hasn’t been a noise beyond the occasional sniffle. It’s a good thing Julie isn’t trying her stew - it must be disgustingly salty from all the tears dripping into it. 

Tok tok tok-

Barnaby sighs through his nose and puts his bowl down, sick of looking at everyone’s misery. He would say that he’s going to go sleep, but he has a feeling that none of them are getting a wink tonight. 

Tok tok-

Before he can stand, Frank blurts, “We shouldn’t have attacked it. It was a mistake.”

“Please don’t,” Julie begs.

“There’s no need to rub salt in the wound,” Sally says firmly, her stew starting to sizzle from the rising heat in her hands.

“Not right now, Frank,” Eddie mutters. 

Frank visibly bristles, and he launches to his feet. “I refuse to pretend not to have seen what I did! The truth is a terrible thing, but someone needs to say it. Wally lied to us.”

“Frank…” Barnaby warns.

“We shouldn’t have attacked the demon,” Frank barrels on, ignoring him, “because there was no need to. It didn’t eat Wally until the end because the demon is his patron. Wally was never a wizard at all, he was a warlock-”

Barnaby lunges with a deep bark that echoes against the trees. The crickets symphony falls silent. Frank trips backwards over his seat, staring up with wide eyes as Barnaby stalks around the fire, growling. Eddie and Sally slowly stand, inching between him and Frank. 

Barnaby stops, snout bunched and canines bared. He jabs a claw at Frank. “Don’t you ever say that again. Ever.”

Frank’s mouth flaps uselessly for a moment. When he speaks, it comes out as a whisper, “I’m-”

“If you end that with right instead of sorry, I’ll make damn sure that you are.”

Frank wisely keeps his mouth shut. The crickets continue chirping.

Barnaby glares at him until Frank looks away. Barnaby straightens his vest with a sharp tug and strides away from the fire, towards his and- his tent. Just his, now. Murmuring breaks out at his back. He yanks the flap open, grabs his pipe and herb pouch, and heads towards the forest. He pauses only to listen by Howdy’s tent, waiting to hear proof of life before continuing on.

Once he can’t see the firelight anymore, Barnaby chooses a random tree and sits heavily in front of it. Rough bark digs into his back through his vest. A night bird hoots overhead. Crickets continue to make their music, but Barnaby wishes they would shut up for good. 

Light from the full moon pours through the branches to provide just enough light to see by. Barnaby holds up his pipe and quickly puts it to the side to take off a grimy glove. The heart-pad and blue fur underneath contrasts vibrantly with the dust-grayed rest of him. After a moment he removes the other glove, wincing as the leather drags over his injured knuckles. He turns his paw over and scowls at the dirty black edges of the red-raw scrapes. He should have punched harder. He hopes it scars, even though he knows it won’t.

The gloves themselves are scuffed up, but not beyond use. Barnaby folds them into his pocket and gets to work lighting his pipe. He packs it and instinctively opens his mouth to ask Wally to light it for him. The words die on his tongue as he turns only to see dark forest. Empty woods save for the tiny blue lights of night wisps floating on the breeze. 

Barnaby stares into the darkness with yawning dread. He keeps looking. How long will it take him to stop? How long until Wally’s face starts to smudge in his memories, until his voice is gone and Barnaby doesn’t even remember what his smile looked like? How long until Barnaby only thinks of him in passing? 

He doesn’t want to reach that point. He desperately does. 

Will it hurt more or less? Does it matter? He wants it to ache until he dies.

Barnaby frantically fishes his sparkrune out of the herb pouch - only there for emergencies, when Wally or Sally isn’t there to light it for him. It will wear down to a nub within the month. He strikes his thumb claw against it, and sparks fly expertly into the bowl of his pipe. It takes a moment to catch. Barnaby lifts the bit to his lips and takes a drag before enough smoke forms for a lungful. 

Maybe he should have grabbed the stronger stuff. If he breathes enough of it, maybe he’d be able to see Wally. 

But Barnaby doesn’t get up in the end. He sits against the base of a tree and hugs himself, the pipe’s intermittent glow betraying the shine in his eyes.

[defiledtomb]

Don't get your tongue pierced unless the freak dividends yield more than the eventual cost. Then absolutely go for it

[blueskittlesart]

Anon from earlier; absolutely your comics are amazing and I'm glad crit was good!!! Are you going to share that comic here?

I'm not entirely sure at the moment. It's one piece of a larger story, and my professor told me it's something I could realistically send to publishers and agents if I want to get picked up for an actual publishing contract (which is my literal genuine dream & has been since i was like 11 years old) so i'm hesitant to start self-publishing it rn, especially in pieces, which is how it currently exists. (I plan to write another episode of the same story for the same class next semester lol) until I know exactly where I'm looking to take it it's probably just going to remain in my portfolio :)

[swearingcactus]

when you have little guy energy and chose being a merc as a career, you gotta get creative with your insults

[compacflt]

While I was reading your slider oneshot for the third time (sooooo good btw, i cant say enough how much i love your writing), I kept thinking about Ice and Sliders conversation about Carole-[“Me and Carole?” Ice said, thinking it over. He smiled his bitter, bashful smile— “Yeah, we might’ve worked out, once. I won’t get into the details. We tried it out. But I don’t think the timing was right.”]-What is Ice referencing here?? Is he referring to when Carole kissed him? Or did I miss something (entirely possible tbh)? I really felt like Mav when I read that scene ["What do Admiral Kazansky and Carole Bradshaw get up to when he doesn’t know about it?"]

The parallel of Mav being [redacted] with Goose and Carole liking/loving/pining for Ice. Wow! So deliciously complex. What an interesting little love square they have going on. Bradley and his four parents.

But man...Carole really is such a tragic figure in both canon and your fic. But I really really love the depth of emotion that you give her in the glimpses that we get. Her relationships with both Mav and Ice are so interesting and layered. They just feel very real. I really really loved the gimpse of her point of view you gave us in the Dad!Ice fic (the half empty box of cigarettes!! I still think about that)

this is such a sweet ask. thank you. yes he was referring to her kissing him (not really “trying it out,” to be fair, but he’s also trying to “prove” to slider that he’s still interested in women, so he’s using even the most tangential of evidence and holding it up like “see? See? not gonna give you all the details but Trust Me bro we tried it out😎”)

& also here’s from my notes in my printed-out copy of my fics from last OCTOBER (whoa). Referring to the scene in the hospital when Carole gives ice & maverick the instructions to pull Bradley’s USNA app & suggests she & ice have discussed it previously (they haven’t).

Carole is pretty much the only person who is around both Ice & mav enough to know the truth of who they are. (Slider also recognizes this— “ice let Carole Bradshaw see his happiness but not slider… :( que cruel”. And the whole “she is literally the only camera capturing icemav’s happiness on film for the historical record” section of slider

.) And Carole therefore is the only person to whom ice quite literally cannot deny that he & maverick are together, because she… has eyes. And is their best friend. and they’re raising her kid with her. So that sets her up as like a confessional character, in that ice HAS to be truthful with her in a way he isn’t with anyone else, including… his literal boyfriend maverick. so it’s a pretty easy leap for Maverick to be like, It’s a given that ice does not honestly want to be with me, a man -> but he is honest about his feelings with Carole, a woman who has expressed interest in him, behind my back (“what do admiral Kazansky & Carole Bradshaw get up to when he doesn’t know about it?”) -> Omg they’re having a heterosexual emotional affair. Which, like, they totally might be? which is why i keep going back to the *possibility* that they might have worked out once, had it not been for the simultaneous timing of ice falling in love with maverick, since ice is also Bradley’s no. 1 dad figure in my story. Which slider points out.

From a heterosexual family planning perspective, ice & Carole together just kinda makes sense. In a way that everyone in the story recognizes, for better or worse.

[analogwriting]

i think about this picture every single fucking day of my life oh my god

[atesomerocks]

got omori for the switch as a birthday present and completed a playthru of the good ending in like two days so have some art

[kingsofneon]

just discovered your coby/shanks maid cafe fic and i am INSANE over it. if you ever write more for that paring i will explode /pos (but fr no pressure, i am fed so well with what you have given us you're so talented thanks for sharing 🙏🙏)

dhdjdhdh thanks doll <33

The maid fic....my beloved.....litcherally just an excuse to have horny exhibition kink but it came out so good snickers

🤔 i have one other coby//shanks? Which is coby gets ""captured"" by the redhair pirates due to some shenanigans, and due to OTHER shenanigans they think he's been doused with a sex pollen that's making him too horny to function 😂 Coby lets them continue to think this because its the only way he can think to vaguely have control but it also ends with shanks getting him off and Cobys brain melting out his ears from overstim 😘

[nc-vb]

Chilchuck… is a divorced father of three?

[grimalkinmessor]

I saw some cute art of black Near, and it sent me down the spiral of What If Beyond Was Black, so just—imagine with me.

Beyond spending legit hours putting on make up and just fuckin',,,spray painting the rest of his body because like hell he's gonna sit for eight more hours doing it by hand. Naomi notices that his nails and palms are the same color as the rest of his arms but she initially just shrugs it off as Ryuzaki being weird. Maybe he's got spray-on gloves or something like Flint Lockwood because he hates germs.

Beyond crying real tears trying to straighten his hair to make it look like L's. This also takes several hours and many, many cans of hairspray.

He honestly could've kept his original look since no one knows what L really looks like but this man is COMMITTED to the bit even to the point of ultimate cosmetic suffering. Spite is his ultimate motivator in the face of adversity lmao.

And then afterwards when he's in prison Naomi visits him and sees how he really looks and just goes "OH MY GOD IS THAT WHY YOU ALWAYS SPELLED LIKE PAINT THINNER???"

[orcelito]

Wonderful news, after a month of flossing almost every day, my gums are finally no longer bleeding every time I floss!! 😃