#so I'm self conscious about that now

[fitzselfships]

Zooble likes to put on parts that they know my s/i will like. Needless to say they enjoyed the paws :3

Proshippers/adjacent dni. 100000 shark attack 🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈 also Zooble self ship doubles dni

[tastycitrus]

so i've seen multiple AU stories where cass comes to gotham early, meets one of the other batkids and bonds with them. i've seen several with either jason or tim, and one with steph.

i want to put them all together. an alternate universe where cass comes to gotham early and runs into a bunch of kids who promptly imprint on her like lost ducklings. she doesn't know why they've attached themselves to her; she still can't comprehend language let alone communicate.

[nimudae]

Some more Lawlu Sky Family ft. stackable Hoshio, using a personal twitter follower milestone as an excuse to draw my son in a hoodie of my favorite pokemon and baby murder bird's emergency pillow ⭐

[Torao stack idea by @law69me]

[manasurge]

Got Mourynn's first fullbody ref done! (I mean first as in chronologically). Not much to say here, just getting some early year fullbody refs done so I can have them to start on some scenes and lore stuff (just gotta finish her Orchid outfit next since that's her main Sapling outfit before she makes her own custom one). I'm also not used to drawing this small so I messed up the face a bit, on the side there, but oh well.

Below the cut is just the line art and the transparent that I'm hoping will work properly on her Hero Panel profile on Toyhouse:

[silusvesuius]

this tree from my new drawing looking goated afffffff 👑👑

[literallyjusttoa]

How can I stop thinking about him when he is so he shaped.

[cerealbishh]

"You're pretty new at this whole relationship thing, huh?"

"... Yeah."

[arrgh-whatever]

thanks for sharing your oc content . very inspiring & refreshing , and also ? just tasty . your world is scrumptious to devour little scraps and snips of information and interactions . thanks for keeping the creative spark goin , it shines bright for the lot of us

thank you!!! it really really means a lot to me!

[cartoonghosts]

genuinely people need to tag triggers. Love all the 'not my responsibility to tag stuff the way you want it' shit but that is for fandom and weird kinks and whatever not LITERAL PICTURES OF SELF HARM AND BLOOD EVERYWHERE like I'd be fine if it was tagged 'tw blood' (which I don't have blocked!! I'd still be triggered as fuck but hey you tried idc) but when you don't tag it at all I have to assume you are actually trying to hurt someone. Yeah I block immediately but thst doesn't change the fact that I'm triggered and the sh urges are back. This is true for text posts too, although I try to block words (I genuinely hate it so deeply when people sidestep other people's word blocks with 'sewerslide' or button mash numbers in the word like. I am going to fucking kill you. 'Oh noo it's triggering to me uwu' bitch you made me actively suicidal for the first time in months. Fucking die. Don't post that shit if using the actual words triggers you). You ABSOLUTELY ARE responsible for what you put out into the words. People saying 'oh ur not responsible for other peoples triggers and emotions' are genuinely heartless and have never felt human empathy. You ain't responsible for how I react to your content, but you NEED to try your best to give people the bare minimum of warnings when you post triggering shit. Look at ur vent post and be like 'hey I'm gonna tag this as tw vent/ tw si' and you genuinely might save someone's life. Probably not but the chance should be enough for you to care and if it isn't, block me. Don't argue, just block me now.

[cicadidae-tm9899]

This marks night 7 of staying up until at least 3am reading disco elysium fanfiction. I am so fucking normal right now

[blazingblorbos]

oh god. oh god. oh.. oh gosh. I didn't expect this so soon. I didn't expect this today, I've been busy with life related things so the HYV calendar is really unbeknownst to me, is this update really next week already?? where can I rant about this- whERe can I rant about this-

oh. I made a blog for that exact purpose ! OKAY—!

fuck. fuck me, dude holy-

FUCK.

the slightly worried look on Arle's face as Snezhevna is reaching out her hand, only for her face to seemingly revert back to cold and neutral once the camera actually focuses in on her. Her tone is cold but her words are reassuring,,,,,,,,

ALSO GOD FUCKING DAMN IT. HOW GENTLY SHE HOLDS HER HAND.

the d o o r. the DOOR. THE FUCKING DOOR, CHAT. the slow opening at first, and once you can make out that it's certainly Arle's silhouette she shoves it fully open - both doors, both hands. incredibly attractive—. the FEAR in that man's eyes.

The crossed hands. We can't see her face but you know what expression she's making (it's not really an expression. it's neutral but you can feel it). THE FUCKING F E A R ON THAT MAN'S FACE.

Oh- she literally just grabbed him by the throat. Just like that- ! There's the expression. Oh, you feel it, alright. If you go frame by frame, you'll notice her eyes narrow in the slightest right before ->

POV: you're getting chocked out by Arlecchino, and that's actually the least of your worries. (my god she is beautiful).

I did not expect him to simply be thrown down to the ground and I ... d i d not expect her to step on his FACE. [insert gay masochistic joke here. you know the one]. Did not expect her to smile (this is the ONLY scene wherein we see her smile even slightly... huh...) *And the reason I say "I did not expect her to smile", is because with the momentum we were getting I thought she was straight up going to crush his throat, or stab him (hand, weapon or otherwise). It looked like she was digging the forefoot of her shoe into the guys head and not the... .. y'know deadly fucking heel, so that.. confused me. (and the sound when she supposedly stomped his head in did NOT sound all that impactful) but ANYWAYS I digress-

I'm of course assuming more happened after the cut to black because . madam where did you get that bloodstain on you—

BLOODSTAIN ON HER FACE!?!?!? (more on this in a second)

Freminet??? Freminet feature ! (not Lyney or Lynette.. interesting). :(((( the poor boy sounds so,, desensitized. His father

holy shit quick intermission. After the mental chronological fuckfest that was "The Song Burning in the Embers" I don't think I can look at Arle and the HotH the same anymore because she's.. she's like not even 10 years older than them (?) it's insane this doesn't make any sense- ANYWAYS.

HIS FATHER comes back with what we later see to be real blood on her face. Tells him "I've acquired new funds". We know what that means... HE knows what that means!!, and the way WE - THE AUDIENCE - know that Freminet knows what it means is because the boy replies "Oh.. Okay.."

LIKE-! chat omg this is truly just routine for them,,,, Like out of the 3 siblings, Freminet always gave off the biggest child assassin vibe, but wow. To see that routine and desensitized nature of the HotH's line of work just,, splayed out in a Character Trailer is . wow. and the look in his eyes as he says it is- wow.

YEAH UHH BLOODSTAIN ON HER FACE??/ The lighting in this scene now is evidently less saturated. And it's just- oh my FUCKING GOD it does so many things:

the blood on Arle's face looks... dry. it doesn't look as fresh as you may expect which could mean many things. It could mean she spent,,, hella long in there with that guy doing what needed to be done. It could mean she took care of something else immediately after dealing with that guy (perhaps smth related to the children Snezhevna wanted to save). But regardless, it means she didn't put in the effort to clean her face and hide what happened. OBVIOUSLY !!! that is so . obviously her style but to S E E IT IN MY GENSHIN IMPACT CHARACTER TRAILER it's- oh my god

it serves to highlight the really, truly, bleak nature of the scene now that we know plain and simple Arlecchino just killed a man. There's no subtext, there's no reading between the lines. The only thing that didn't happen is that we didn't see contact nor see a body. But, no sugarcoating, Arlecchino killed a man. No one is hiding it. You are not surprised. No one should be but damn.

and ofc it acts as a representation of Snezhevna dying...

because it seems like the saturation is back once the camera switches to looking at Snezhevna laying in bed.

And is it me, or does it look like Arle's allowing herself to actually display a tinge of worry in her expression this time? And also, EVER so slightly in her tone as well. You can feel it, it's gentler.

"Once I'm better I'll start my next mission.."

THIS. THIS!! IN SO MANY WAYS THIS!

OKAY. so bear with me. I haven't actually read any of the sibling's character stories yet, so there could be a LOT of info I'm missing but:

There's still a pretty thought-provoking conversation going on (in MY mind, at least) about just how intensely these children are being trained to be soldiers for the Fatui. They're obviously in an environment that indoctrinates them into being soldiers of SOME kind, but I still don't know what kind of soldier that's supposed to be. Are they all ALWAYS extensions of the Fatui? Or are they more-so extensions of Arlecchino specifically..? Snezhevna was obviously trying to help those children she came across, and I'm assuming that happened on her latest mission, so was the mission for a charitable cause?? What was her next mission supposed to be?? Same line of work? Saving people? Or would it switch up and was she going to be sent to "take care of" (kill .) someone???

So I don't know whether to interpret that line as a hint of them being overworked and 1) feeling like they need to continue their work out of pure fear that they'll be deemed ineffective and useless... or 2) feeling like they need to continue their work out of a sense of loyalty and duty to the place that took them in and raised them. Or both..

and ofc the funeral scene. I can't say much more than what's already shown right on the screen.

and am I bugging? Or is the location of the grave....

[citsiurtlanu]

okay i got tagged by both @phoenixmetaphor and @nostalgicatsea so i must expose how uncool my music taste is and post five songs i've been listening to a lot lately. i had to title something recently so all of these songs' lyrics/titles were in contention for that (and then in the end i didn't actually use any of them... not directly, anyway. lol)

And at once, I knew I was not magnificent High above the highway aisle Jagged vacance, thick with ice And I could see for miles, miles, miles

(this song was the closest to being the winner and i named the fic epoch instead of holocene hahahahaha. shoutout to chibueze ihuoma, who was hadestown's touring orpheus for a while, for covering it 'cause seeing that made me fall in love with this song)

In the confusion and the aftermath You are my signal fire The only resolution and the only joy Is the faint spark of forgiveness in your eyes

Let's raise a glass or two To all the things I've lost on you Tell me are they lost on you? Just that you could cut me loose After everything I've lost on you Is that lost on you?

But there is no one who Could wake my heart like this Could break my world in two I felt a suddenness

Don't wait, don't wait The lights will flash and fade away The days will pass you by Don't wait To lay your armor down

[masteraqua]

i just rewatched puss in boots the last wish after seeing wish yesterday and just. like.

it's insane to me how similar they are in terms of themes and subject matter (wishes, fairytales, etc.) but where one of them is realized with groundbreaking visual artistry and a gripping story rooted in potent human experiences, the other rings hollow and flat, both visually and narratively, in its cynical, weak-willed pursuit of corporatized nostalgia.

[mookybear12404]

There's a deaf guy that works at my university's cafeteria, and I've been dying to try and have a conversation with him with years, but he's almost always at the dishwashing station and turned away from me, so I've never gotten a chance to. This semester I've seen him more frequently at food service, so I've had the chance to have a few very brief interactions, (using ASL to order instead of pointing like most students do) but today I ran into him at dishwashing again and he recognized me, and I had my first ever full conversation in ASL 😭 I got to ask his name, found out he'd been working there six year and that his son worked there too. He taught me some more ASL (like how to say "Happy Friday!") and I'm SO happy AHHH

[rillils]

notes: I’ve been going through a bit of a rough time lately, writer’s block being just one of the issues, so I thought I’d put everything on hold for a little while, grab a prompt from a prompt generator and see what happened. Today’s prompt was: cooking for one another or cooking together. Here goes nothing :3 wordcount: 1137 additional tags: modern setting – no powers AU, pre-serum Steve, fluff fluff fluff, domesticity, they haven’t tied the knot yet but they’ve been practically married since they were 15 pass it on. You can also find this ficlet on AO3!

🍂🍁🍂

November has the crisp sound of crushed leaves, and the color of Bucky’s cheeks stung pink by the wind.

His smile is a soft thing when he reaches his arm out to wrap around Steve’s shoulders, herding him close into his side. “Wanna head back?”

Steve shrugs, “Yeah, if you want,” but his head has already found its natural place in the Steve-shaped slot under Bucky’s chin, where the wool lining of Bucky’s coat collar will tickle his cheek all the way home.

“I’m not cold, though,” Steve wishes to inform him, while Bucky guides them down the street at an easy promenade pace.

“’Course not,” Bucky agrees, punctuating the sentiment with a kiss to the top of Steve’s ruffled head. “Should have worn a hat there, Stevie. Wanna borrow mine? You know I don’t mind.”

“Nah, I’m fine.”

“’Kay.” A beat of silence. Two. Three. “Hey, you’ve got your gloves on, right?”

“Sure,” Steve replies, slipping his very much bare hand into the warmth of Bucky’s coat pocket.

“Uh-huh,” Bucky hums against Steve’s temple, absolutely and irrevocably one-hundred-percent fooled. “You know you’ll end up getting frostbite again, don’t ya.”

His voice brushes warmly against Steve’s cold skin, and Steve soaks it up like it’s the last summer sun, ducking his head low so Bucky won’t see him grin. “Yes, Ma.”

If Bucky then chooses crime and deliberately tickles him just under his ribs, over the spot he’s known since 2nd grade will make Steve produce the most embarrassingly high-pitched squeals, then Steve may have, perhaps, had it coming just a little bit.

He catches their reflection in the shop windows as they pass by; there’s Bucky’s grinning profile right there, his bangs mussed by the cold breeze, stirring fuzzily under his beanie; Steve’s own laughing face, the red tip of his nose, and their legs stepping together in perfect sync, one-two, one-two, fluid and easy, like they have a million times before. It fills him with a soft kind of awe, the way they move as one. If life was a poem, Steve is sure their bodies would rhyme.

Bucky’s hand curls snugly around his shoulder, bringing them just that little bit closer. “Let’s make something nice and warm for dinner.”

“Can it have potatoes?”

He doesn’t need to see Bucky’s smile; he can hear it in his voice, soft and amused, half-hidden in the fluff of Steve’s hair.

“Deal.”

*

Steve leans back against the kitchen island, cuddling a steaming cup of tea to his chest, watching the room – watching Bucky – come to life one ingredient at a time.

Bucky throws him a knowing glance, knife in his right hand, the sleeves of his sweater already pulled back to the elbows. “Are you gonna help at all?”

Steve smiles behind the rim of his cup. “Nope.”

“Called it.”

Dinner is a soft, long-rehearsed symphony, and Steve stands close by and listens gratefully, warmth curling like tender fingers in his chest.

The gentle rhythm of Bucky’s knife on the cutting board, chopping carrots into wedges and dicing potatoes into neat little cubes. The silken glide through pork, cut into bite-sized pieces. The languorous sizzle of onion tossed for a sweet little waltz in a drizzle of oil and a scoop of butter, and the splash of wine from the first and only bottle they’ve bought since moving in, and forgot in the back of a cabinet for months. The lazy simmer of the stew muttering quietly on the stove, like the old ladies in the front rows at Mass, with too many tales to tell and not enough time in between Hail Mary’s to spill them all.

Steve gathers every drop of it, of home wrapping her familiar embrace around him, and leans into the sound with his eyes closed, savoring it, Mm.

“You getting sleepy?”

Bucky’s looking at him curiously; Steve allows himself the pleasure of looking back, taking the time to drink him in. The steam from the pot has caused Bucky’s short hair to curl against his brow, and his eyes are smiling even when his mouth is not, and the hoop of Steve’s apron, the one that says Stick a fork in me, I’m done, sits a little too high around his neck. He’s never looked as beautiful, as heartbreakingly sweet as this. The very same thought crosses Steve’s mind spontaneously at least once every day, and every day it feels just as true as the one before.

“No,” he says, closing his eyes again, “I just like watching you.”

He can hear Bucky’s amused snort loud and clear over the bubble-de-bubble of their stew. “Anybody ever tell you you’re a weirdo, honey?”

Steve hums, contentment spreading from the center of his belly to the length of his limbs, reaching down to his fingers and toes.

“All the time, Buck.”

*

Their ankles twine like young roots under the table.

“Here, tell me how it is.”

Bucky feeds him the first spoonful from his own plate, and Steve indulges him, diligently opening up for the spoon.

Flavor unfolds like a many-layered story on his tongue: the sweet tang of rosemary, a whisper of black pepper, the tender bite of pork and the enticing juice of carrot – each voice speaks to him, describing a richness that cannot come from herbs and spices alone.

It’s the measure of everyday devotion; the care that was poured in every gesture, the peeling and the cutting, the stirring and the dishing. The simple pleasure of making something from scratch and saying, without words, For you.

Steve feels the grin bubble up from the well of his chest. The potato’s so soft, it melts like spun sugar on his tongue.

“Well?”

Bucky’s watching him closely; a small, near-shy smile curling his lips.

There’s something in his eyes, in the way they soften like this, in the gleam always kindled within, that Steve has failed to put a name to since he first saw it there.

Perhaps – he thinks, not for the first time – perhaps it needs no name, only a heart to feel it. And he does feel it, every time Bucky looks at him like this. Deep, deep-set here in his heart, in his stomach; in the golden crucible where tenderness is made.

“Come on, don’t leave me hanging,” Bucky prods. “Does it taste okay?”

It tastes like so many murmurs of ‘I love you’, is what Steve truly wants to say; but that’s a little secret he’ll keep to himself for now.

He snuggles his sock-clad feet between Bucky’s calves, like he often does on cold nights, when Bucky pulls him back against his chest, and their legs lock together like puzzle pieces under the duvet.

“It’s perfect,” Steve says.

Bucky’s eyes crinkle softly with his smile. Like poetry, Steve tells himself, as he lifts his own spoon.

[atlantis-just-drowned]

We need to talk about this fear when you see another neurodivergent kid getting mocked behind their back or bullied, and maybe you're not even aware that you're neurodivergent yourself yet, but you have this profound, internal knowledge that you have more in common with this one kid than with all of the others who are mocking him.

So you're just like... Terrified. Because you know you're blending in -for now- but you also know you're right next in line for the bullying. If you do just one thing wrong, if you're just a little bit too weird, if people notice you two have some sort of common point, you'll end up in the same position than them.

So you just use them as a counter-model and try to avoid doing anything that might look like something they'd do. You become overly self-conscious. You think constantly about the fact that you don't want to end up like this one kid. You try to avoid talking to them as much as possible, to avoid befriending them. And every time you do a mistake, every time your natural behavior shows, your mind races like "oh no, I've acted like them. People are gonna see we're alike. They're gonna talk behind my back about it. I'll remind others of them and they'll mock me for it."