#totally subconscious

[snoelledarts]

when nico is really worked up, will runs his hands up and down the sides of nico’s torso to reassure him that he’s safe and okay

I was struck by the idea that Will has been doing that to ground Nico for so long that sometimes he’ll do it in his sleep ;-;! The side rubs become tummy rubs if Nico’s anxiety lasts long enough.

(There is absolutely more art of this coming, I started a piece far too big to compete in time for this ask, but IT IS COMING.)

[autumn-may]

terrisas really funny ithink

[justanotherfanfolks]

CHAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTT!?!??!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!!??!?

[clownakai]

The thing that stands out the most to me about Stage of Betrayal is the fact that Rei proves himself completely incapable of envisioning a world in which Hiro would ever willingly leave him behind. Hiro killed himself because Rye made him, because Rye gave him his own gun and forced him to shoot.

To me, the kicker isn't that Rei is actually wrong about this (even strategically speaking, killing himself and destroying all connections to his loved ones was objectively a good move on Hiro's part, and not at all unreasonable nor unheard of considering his job and circumstances), but how he's so deep in denial that he just can't see what happened through any other lenses.

He ignores any and all inconsistencies within his deduction because to acknowledge them would mean he'd have to take into consideration the idea that Hiro immediately chose to kill himself as option number one instead of trying to survive until they could at least attempt an extraction, which feels an awful lot like abandonment. It feels like Hiro put the mission and secrecy above everything else, even Rei (which we know isn't true. Hiro killed himself because he loved the people close to him more than anything and he wanted to keep them safe— which, if you spend more than ten seconds thinking about the scenario, becomes immediately obvious as the motivation behind his suicide).

Hiro killed himself because he was terrified he'd be forced to drag Rei into the line of fire. He did that out of love, without thinking, while Rei can't even consider that as an option because they have fundamentally different ways of thinking and to him it would mean that Hiro didn't care enough to stay alive.

And Rei, being an extremely emotional person, wouldn't handle that well at all— which only leaves him the option of denial (be it subconscious or not).

[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.

[milfygerard]

but fr outside of my contracted madness i absolutely refuse to give joe alwyn gold rush like how is that song at all related to their relationship the lyrics clearly spell out a relationship that either never existed or only existed in implication and fantasies and maybe-maybe nots and its so bitter and yet desperately soft in the bridge where it almost projects a sense of envy, of wanting to be them as much as you want them. It continues an interesting oft ignored lyrical trend of taylor wanting just as much to be her lover as to have them, envying their easy charisma (you were flush with the currency of cool/i was always turning out my pockets) or quiet dignity (your integrity makes me seem small) dating back to her earliest songs (the kind of flawless i wish i could be). Theres a projected self hatred and yearning to be better that twists itself into both romantic and sexual lust for her partners thats so fascinating and speaks to how all of her songs regardless of who theyre about are also an act of self reflection on who she is and who she wishes to be.

[roboctopus]

Based off that sneak peak, I 100% believe that if we do get Tommy/Buck, they’re both going into that relationship wishing they were with Eddie Diaz instead.

[merrigel]

Been way deep into Dragon Age lately (replaying Inquisition and now, just getting into Veilguard) SO!! Check out my babies!!

[zackstriker]

so are we gonna talk about the insane similarities between the name phol and ponk or

[wheredidalltheusersgo]

sleepy dudes when they're watching a movie

[rui-drawsbox]

Shu's villian outfit for Magical Knights au!

i should revisit Mika and Nazuna's ref to give them a little more detail (+ im gonna givem masks too), anyways hope i got the 'ultimate villain of the series' feeling i was going for (subconsciously thinking of hawkmoth when i designed it (this shu is just hawkmoth in a different flavor))

[elleskinner-justart]

Today is her fictional birthday so let's spam the dash with some Mako-chan sketches!

Makoto Kino is best girl, I will hear no arguments at this time.

[rainofcolours]

more to worry about (than me) (7348 words)

[ (7/? hierarchy of collapse) | Kaijou/Puppyshipping | hurtcember 2024 Prompt 7: Abandoned ]

Summary: Seto contends that the abandonment of self is justified in his pledge to exchange the blood of his hands for the blood of innocents, a price well worth its weight in gold. Meanwhile, Hirutani finds himself in the company of one with a particularly reckless abandon for violence. (Enjoy the whiplash from sad introspection to unhinged. Just, unhinged.) (Potential triggers in ao3 link)

Click below for a few preview paragraphs!

The palms of his doctor folded in hesitation, worry threading sunken wrinkles long deepened by the tribulations of a life afforded to others. The patient stood before him with resolution that could only be defined by denial; skin faded in reflection of the untold ghosts that haunted his night before, translucence bulged against the friction of bones, gossamer in dehydration. It thrummed, seeming to just barely contain the uneven surges of sluggish amber, poison, yet dissipated; defilement circulating in discolouration, manifesting in the unwilling pull of the neck into the grind of his jaw.

The retreat of limbs under twisted covers; the admonishment of eyes anchored in graves of blue. The unspoken refusal that rang in deafening clarity – a reminder, of a display of will none could contradict.

“Please rest well, Master Kaiba.”

The doctor bowed, the willow of his heart’s intent moderated by the physicality of his age. Seto eyed him until the heavy door of his room softly clicked shut, the unacknowledged humiliation of his transgressions preceding his usual respect for one whose hands guarded the integrity of his physical temple.

That left the presence of two others who still invaded the sanctity of his desired solitude.

(Read the rest of the fic here!)

[thepastneverforgets]

trying to like tweets that are simply about eddie or buck separately as characters without having the twitter algorithm push buddie bitterness on my tl challenge (impossible)

[moonstruckme]

You guys I'm writing a blurb and I just realized the voice in my head literally has a british accent right now. Like, it's become an instinct to think in terms of "quite" and "queue" when I'm writing for the marauders...what's happening to me

But when I was writing for Spencer earlier, the voice was definitely american. I find that oddly reassuring

[kanerallels]

I'm starting to realize just how much of my book series was inspired by the movie Stardust