#(at least that's the way i see him)

[hinamie]

I'll give them shelter like you've done for me

[milkywayes]

GARRUS VAKARIAN: DATABASE IMAGE ACCESS. > PT. 1 : 2160, 2166, 2170. > all files backdated according to user preferences: (terran_coordinated.calendar).

[courtesanofdeath]

sorachi redraws (volume 1) gintoki 20 years later!

[wandixx]

Danny, the Young Justice member snippet nr 2

these snippets aren't connected in anyway but just some little scenes I came up with, everyone is welcome to build up on them if they want to

Trigger warning: death mentioned, self-harm mentioned, idk, Danny gets flashback to portal incident

unrelated snippet nr 1, unrelated snippet nr 3 (?)

Out, out, out.

He tripped over his own legs and almost fell and it didn’t matter because he needed to get out. 

Away, away, away. 

He wasn’t sure if he ran or flew or dragged himself on the rough floor but he had to get away. His back hit a wall and he couldn’t get past it, intangibility just out of his grasp.

He logically knew that Zeta Tube wasn't the same as the portal but it was similar. So deadly similar.

He wasn’t sure when his own, corps-like, trembling with rigor mortis cold hands started rubbing his arms. He also wasn’t sure whether it was to comfort himself in this lonely self-hug or to try to rub hard enough that the hazmat and skin underneath would be torn, allowing him to see his own, red blood running in his veins. It was still red, right? It was still red, right? Of course it was still running, why wouldn’t it?

His knees gave up. He fell to the ground with quiet reverbatting thump, his eyes fixated on danger at the other side of the large room. He had to get further away but he couldn’t.

Because he was dying again.

Eyes full of tears and terror were jumping around, unable to see the room around him. Why couldn’t he see anything? Why were there only splashes of various colors, all contrasting with a light gray background. Were these people? Colors were moving, that seemed likely. Ghosts?! He had to get ready if these were ghosts he needed to fight them. People could be in danger and he couldn’t even stand without support. He started it, he had to take care of it, no matter how he felt right now.

His normally overly, unnaturally sensitive ears were filled with constant electric buzz from still active Zeta Tubes.

He was quite sure someone was yelling something but no matter what, Danny couldn’t understand what was being said. He tried looking around again but his teary eyes still failed him. There were no red stains though. Not in the right shade at least. No one was bleeding. It was okay for now.

Was it really? He hadn’t bled when he was dying had his accident though. It was all inside him, the crushing hollowness inside him and infinite outside pressure making his body implode. Ectoplasm bubbling in his mouth, throat, stomach and fingers, silencing his scream of agony and destroying his muscles. His limbs were limp and tense, twitching like a broken light bulb, out of his control but not out of his senses. It was so cold that it bit his bones and so hot that his skin was melting. There were screams so loud that it could shatter glass, as if every inhabitant of the Ghost Zone wanted to be heard and absolute suffocating silence. He was alone like nobody ever was and stuck in a stifling crowd that could stomp him to death any second. It was all contrasting, impossible but happening, existing together. He lived died it.

It was impossible, just like him.

There were others, they could help while Danny got himself together.

They couldn’t help if it was a ghost. He had to calm down and get ready to fight.

He couldn’t.

It was all happening again.

He was dying again.

It hurt to even think about.

Would it at least kill him for good?

Air he hadn’t needed before, not since his first death he always needed, like all functioning, alive human beings, got stuck in his lungs. He was gasping for it, choking on it. There was something stuck in his throat. SOme part of his brain that wasn’t screaming in agony and panic and loneliness had considered tearing his neck open just to get whatever was stuck swallowing but it didn’t help. 

He rubbed his arms harder. His eyes were locked on a blurred, still active portal. One of the color blobs moved, growing larger but he couldn’t think about what it meant. His arms hurt. It was good. Pain was grounding. In a gray room with few portals. Not the basement. Ghosts still could be there but it wasn't a basement. He still needed to get ready to fight

If he could feel pain, it meant he was alive, right? Ghosts never showed that they felt pain right? His parents always said they couldn’t.

He knew it was a lie but he felt like it was his last hope.

He realized that growing group of colors actually looked like a person but he had no way to tell whether they were alive or not. His ghost sense was quiet but he didn’t trust himself to not miss it. His throat was still shut tightly. His body kept twitching like a glitching character. No matter what, he couldn’t fight right then. He had to get himself together.

He scratched his arms almost violently.

Warm, soft, gentle hands pried his palms away from his arms. It wasn't a ghost. Ghosts weren't this gentle, this calmingly warm. Someone, someone who was alive, was crouching in front of him, face at the same level as his, hiding portals from his sight. Danny nearly sunk into their gentle touch.

“-om." their voice also was so gentle, filled with concern but firm enough to get to him over the buzz of portals. He tried to concentrate on this voice. He didn't want to hear portals.

"-ntom." It sounded like they were calling someone. He had to focus more to understand. Gentle grip on his wrists got more firm. There he was. He wouldn't feel it if he was dying again.

"Phantom." They called quietly, like little windbells Sam gave him as a birthday present. It was his name, they were asking him something he couldn't understand, something he couldn't do.

"I'm sorry."

He wasn't sure if any sound came out of his mouth.

Grip on his hands loosened a little, not enough for him to do anything about it, but enough to return to the pure feeling of safety and reassurance it gave him before.

“It's okay Phantom." they murmured. Danny nearly cried at their kindness and calmness. Air slowly started to fill his lungs again. It truly was okay, he wasn't dying again."Can you focus on five things you can see for me?"

He could do it. It wasn't much to repay the gentle person kneeling in front of him.

He blinked tears away and started the list in his head.

Black Canary in front of him.

Superboy in the middle of the room. He looked like he didn't know what to do.

Kid Flash next to him, ready to come to where Danny was shaking on the floor.

Robin and Artemis both made sure that Kid stayed where he was.

Miss Martian for sure feeling his panic and having trouble coping with this. He should calm down as soon as he can, he didn't want to cause any of his teammates too much stress.

Danny nodded, looking once again at the only adult hero in the room.

Molecules in his body were rearranging again. It all hurt.

"Thank you Phantom. Can you focus on four things you can hear?"

Five racing heartbeats.

One heartbeat that sounded more like buzz because of its speed. KF's heart was always weird.

Tapping of someone's feet.

Zeta Tubes.

He had been in the portal again, it had turned on with him inside again. He was dying again.

Next cautious nod.

"Alright. Now three things you can touch." Black Canary still sounded so calm, so sure she had it all under control. So contrary to her panicked heart. Danny wanted to believe her voice.

Canary's hands still on his wrists. In fact she was touching him more than he was her, but it still counted. There was some physics rule about it.

Cold stone he was sitting on. Weird, he was sure this cave was heated.

Hard wall pressing on his spine.

"Excellent. Two things you can smell?"

Jazz had done same exercise with him before.

Cookies made by Megan before she went on a mission.

Ectoplasm. Somewhere there was ectoplasm that wasn't inside him. He couldn't smell his own ecto. But there was no ghost in the cave. His sense was silent. It was there somehow else. It was concerning but not enough to make him panic again. They could handle it.

His lungs were still aching but air started filling them nearly as much as it did normally. His limbs stopped shaking so much too. He knew he wasn't dying this time. He was calming down.

"You're doing great Phantom. Now think, what's one thing you can taste?"

Aftertaste of ectoplasm he spat between the rough fight and the moment when Kid Flash rushed him to the nearest Zeta Tube, talking about medical attention. Danny tried to tell him, he didn't need that but he was inside before his explanation left his mouth.

"Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah," It was all he was able to say at the moment. He truly felt better but that didn't mean good. It was only a little less bad than shitty, one step from fully dead.

I considered writing continuation with Danny explaining a bit what happened and how he even ended up in Zeta Tube but a) lost spark to rewrite it b) hated what already had But if you want, I can probably rub my remaining two braincels together and continue. Or someone else can. Do it if you want to. Do it. Do it

[egophiliac]

LEON

LEON YOUR EYEBALLS

[nashvillethotchicken]

Horrific psychological abuse and lynching plot aside, Armand was just not a nice partner to Louis. Always interrupting him, extremely dismissive of Louis’s concerns, super mean about his photography to the point where Louis became extremely insecure about in the span of 2 episodes, super insistent on a serious relationship when that's not what Louis wanted or something that was even feasible for the two of them since Armand slept on the floor with 16 racist roommates who hated Louis bad, mean as hell to his daughter, always made things about himself, stopped Louis from going to Rogets and gwtting his husbands money but had no money of his own, made shitty plays and made louis go see them, like the list is endless.

[naamahdarling]

You know what? You know what I think?

I think that if we lived as we were meant to, in larger intimate ("extended family") groups and with more shared labor and time to do it (UBI NOW) people like me would not feel so useless and burdensome because there would be people around to help and to do what neurodivergent people can't while making valuable space for the neurodivergent to do what they ARE good at.

The way we live right now, all right, the way we live right now forces units of two adults to be able to do EVERYTHING or PAY to have someone come do it for them. I have to do the housework. I have to do it! But I am having to do a million different things and most of them I am not good at. I suck at them.

I wouldn't feel like shit, okay, if I had more than one other person around who was not a child and who could do the things I can't, like do the yard and cook and do repairs and basic maintenance; and someone else to split everything else that I like but is too much for me. It would free me to do what I am good at and enjoy. Cleaning, as in the sink and toilet, the windows, the blinds. Taking out trash. Folding, hanging, and sorting laundry.

But because all the shit I can do often relies on other shit being done first, and I can't do or have trouble doing those things, the shit I can do often can't be done. And even the shit I can do, I can't do ALL of it. So I can't keep up, and things get very bad.

We aren't meant to live like this. We are not meant to live like this.

That thought hurts so much because being able to flee the birth family is integral to survival for so many people. I'm so afraid that living in larger family groups would create more opportunities for, say, queer kids to be isolated, rejected, bullied, and abused. But if we gave people enough money to survive, and stopped considering children the property of their parents with no system in place to help them escape bad situations except a system that is often just as bad, just different.

I'm aware that communes and collectives aren't all that successful and are kind of a joke. I don't mean that. I mean a fundamental shift to multigenerational families where taking in "strays" (which my family did) is also normalized so people escaping abuse into existing households was accepted, with these families centered in maybe a couple of different larger residences so not everyone has to buy and maintain their own fucking washing machine and vacuum cleaner, and so people can benefit from large group meals that yield leftovers, and so child and elder care can also be centralized.

Then disabled people and the neurodivergent and sick and injured people, and pregnant people, and grieving people, would not have to either labor through all those stressors or consign themselves to living off an unlivable pittance or being put under legal guardianship.

I'm not saying anything new. People live like this in other parts of the world and maybe it sucks and I am wrong. But I'm just really mad right now because I can either do laundry or clean the sink but not both, and I really think we could improve society somewhat by making it so I did not have to choose one without sacrificing the other.

[hajimeseyo]

(part 1 here! it's not required for reading this piece, but they are connected!)

The second time you meet Izana is completely unexpected.

You hadn’t expected to see the pretty boy from the convenience store anytime soon after your first meeting; sure, he had gotten your name and you had gotten his. But besides that, there wasn’t really any way for you to find each other, and it’s not like you were the type to go around to every high school in the vicinity looking for an ‘Izana’. You just figured that you’d see him when you see him.

You definitely weren’t expecting the next time you see him to be right outside your school gates, however.

“Izana?!” The exclamation draws the boy’s attention to you, along with the attention of nearly all the students nearby. You clamp your mouth shut, face reddening at the feeling of the curious glances sent your way.

“Hey, [name].” He greets you casually, as if he didn't just completely show up out of nowhere, at the place where you least expected him to be.

“What are you doing here?” A sudden thought strikes you. “You don't…go here, do you…?”

“No. I don't go to school at all.”

A snort of laughter escapes you before you can stop it.

He sends you a sharp smirk at that, pushing himself off where he was leaning against the bars of the school gate. “I'm here to pick up a certain someone from school.”

“Oh.” Disappointment flares up inside you, but you push it down. “I see. I didn’t know you knew anyone from my school! What a coincidence.”

“...”

“...?”

You tilt your head in confusion as he stares blankly at you, gaze unreadable and unmoving. Why was he staring at you? Did you say something wrong or–

“Oh!” The realization hits you all of a sudden. Your hand flies up to point at yourself. “Did you mean me???”

He finally moves again at that, nodding his head with a wry smile on his face.

“Oh!” You feel your face heat up again. “Sorry, I don't know why I thought it was someone else.” You rub the back of your neck sheepishly. “I guess I wasn't expecting it to be me.”

He lets out a chuckle, hands smoothly swiping your school bag from your hands and slinging it over his shoulder before you can stop him. “If not you, then who?”

You roll your eyes jokingly. “I don't know, literally anybody else?”

“There's very few people that I would willingly make an effort to pick up.” He bends down slightly to your eye level, and your breath stutters a little at the sudden close up of his beautiful face. “You should consider yourself lucky.”

Recovering, you decide to play along, sending him a teasing smile. “Sure, whatever you say, pretty boy.”

His eyes narrow slightly, the corner of his lips curling upwards. “Oh? I'm ‘pretty boy’ now?”

You giggle, a little bashfully. “Can I call you that?” You ask timidly, unsure of his preference towards the nickname.

His playful expression softens into something gentle. “You can call me anything you want, [name].”

Your heart skips a beat at the soft expression on his face, eyes never leaving yours, almost as if the look was meant for you and you only.

“Now,” He straightens up, snapping you out of whatever daze he put you in. “Let’s go.” He begins walking away, your bag still in his hand, and you hurriedly chase after him.

“Wait wait wait, go where??”

“There's this café I've been wanting to go to for a while now.” He casually replies, not paying your confused look any mind. “So we're going today.”

You could feel butterflies in your stomach.

Was this…?

His way of asking you out on a date…?

You quietly study the side of his face as the two of you walk alongside each other, eyes tracing over every line and bridge of the ethereal features that had captured your attention since the first time you caught a glance. His face is relaxed, almost peaceful.

…Well, whether it was or not, you suppose it doesn't really matter at the moment.

You fake a heavy sigh, although you can't help the smile creeping onto your face. “I suppose I don't have a say in the matter now, do I?”

He grins smugly. It's surprisingly cute.

“No, not really.”

After all, time will tell.

For now, you'll just enjoy this afternoon by his side.

("Wait a minute...how did you know which school I go to?"

"..."

"I-Izana???"

"...Don't worry about it 😁."

"IZANA???")

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

not enough discussion about the gavins' complicated relationship with feminine-coded/beauty products, i don't think.

[bluehoodedmousebane]

Fucked up and played half of Halo 2 in one afternoon but uhhhh game fun. Still walking face-first into the wrong doors, but the levels don't need arrows to tell me where to go, so that's nice.

[themeraldee]

Adore how he went from 'teehee I have a surprise for you' to incredulous blinking at the blatant rejection and then to his fake bravado 'oh yeah that's totally cool, I'm so not bothered'

[hinamie]

wanted to practice some more intense angry expressions and what better excuse to further my agenda of giving megumi the emotional catharsis he deserves

[somegrumpynerd]

Random hcs that have been on my mind for the past couple days: now in doodle format!

Text for each drawing written out under the cut in case it's not clear or anyone wants to translate it!

(1) <- Somehow soft?? <-Sometimes makes a comforting hum/rumble <-Holding for support

(2) <-Walks so quietly everywhere he goes <-Is about to meet god

(3) <-Can't see well in the dark (no eyelights) <-Can't help himself

(4) <-Thinks Color will turn Killer against him and convince him to run away

(5) <-Thinks Nightmare is using them all for the negativity and has brainwashed Killer into liking it

(6) <-Thinks if he runs and jumps at Cross as fast as he can Cross will lift him and it'll look so cool

[royaltea000]

pov that strange boy is back at the border

these models are so lietpol to me

[damniteggs]

when you miss machining so hard that you go and draw a whole ass lathe, then decide you need to have an engineering nerd in front of it.

drew @pinetreevillain ‘s child Timothy in the most pinetreevillainish art style I could muster to do him justice.

[biscuitboba]

Something about captains and their first mates... (asl edition)