[ID in ALT] I've made posts before about Talia/Dick co-parenting Damian moments (will never happen but let me dream) and this came to me in a vision. Took me ages to finish for some reason 😭 and then even longer to post
one of the most important things terry pratchett has taught me is that it's okay to be angry. no one has ever said that to me before. he taught me that anger was an engine. that you can use that anger. that it goes hand in hand with love. he taught me to never underestimate my anger, because it's one of my strongest points. he taught me genuine anger was one of the world’s great creative forces. he taught me i shouldn't be fighting my anger, but what caused it. he himself said rage underlines everything he wrote. i never heard anger talked about so openly like that before and it's freeing, i suppose, to realize you are truly, truly not alone in your rage at the world. you never were.
my secret confession is i think a lot of current art in comics is pretty but sometimes way too glossy and lifeless... it kinda feels like a sticker sheet where they just swap out generic stock poses that they have on hand for that character rather than the art being reflective of the actual story and moment the character is currently in
The bath was hot and left the air shimmering. The antagonist seemed like a mirage in the wavering steam - a door closed, then open, then closed again before they were at the protagonist’s side.
The protagonist lay frozen in the water. Their breath didn't quicken, though the protagonist wanted it to. They couldn't find words or sound. They could only watch as the antagonist knelt upon the tile, and reached out a hand. It was terribly, deliciously cold against the protagonist’s flushed skin.
They felt like they were burning up.
They felt like the touch, wrongwrongwrong, was the only cure.
"You're sick," the antagonist murmured, almost lovingly. "Thinking of me this way. You need help."
The cool touch caressed down the protagonist's bared throat, their sluggish pulse, and then it rested above the protagonist's thumping heart.
The world felt glitching. Unreal. The water was silken with some soothing scent; lavender or rose or something white and floral and heady.
The protagonist knew they should move, scream, say something, do something. They did not. They couldn’t. Did they want to? They might have leaned in for some small relief.
The antagonist smiled. Their teeth were sharp, and their fingers seemed abruptly taloned. Beautiful and monstrous. They dug into the protagonist’s chest hard enough that it felt they might scoop the protagonist’s heart right out. Might dip their lips to the pulsating blood, life, heat, and drink like a desert creature scorched through with thirst.
They were so wonderfully cold.
"Folie à deux," the antagonist whispered. "Won't you let me leave your dreams?"
The protagonist woke up wet and shivering in an empty bath tub.
There were alone, except for the crescent moons of fingernails branded against their skin.
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I know this is just a silly bad quality random screencap of a screencap that I found on facebook lol, BUT it's a succinct enough image to easily describe the concept in a quick/accessible way hopefully :
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(and of course, feel free to elaborate in tags, etc.! (especially elaborating about other senses as well.. can you "hear" in your mind just as well as you can "see"? taste? etc.) It's an interesting topic to me, as someone who's like a 4.5 at MOST lol. I'm curious what option will be the most common :0c )
Just a small thing I noticed while being totally normal about the gay pirates:
I've watched The Kiss™ way too many times a normal number of times and my favorite moment is the series of microexpressions Rhys cycles through while Stede is reacting to "what makes Ed happy is...you" because it's just so lovely and masterfully done. While trying to find a good gif of just that moment (no luck so far!) I noticed something that happens while Ed is pulling Stede in.
Stede, darling honey light of my life, clueless useless "oblivious" gay that he is, tilts his head a bit and leans into the kiss too. Before it's even started. On some level he registers that This Is Happening in time to react in a positive way, even before their lips have touched.
Our boy is a creature of instinct, and when he acts on his emotional instincts without thinking too much he knocks so much shit out of the park. Instinct is part of why "you wear fine things well" hits as hard as it does. Instinct is how he can woo Ed as easily as he does. Instinct is how they were able connect so deeply so quickly, because his instinct is to be open and non-judgemental to this beautiful man waiting beside his sickbed and asking about fine fabrics.
Stede's thoughts are still too clouded by his trauma and self-loathing to be useful for him, and he can end up thinking too much about what he "should" do or what other people do. Thinking is part of the reason he's so quick to believe Chauncey in the woods. Thinking means succumbing to beliefs about his perceived worthlessness, which leads to his biggest mistakes. Thinking tells him to adjust what he says about Blackbeard in that tavern of townies, when his instinct was to say how "absolutely lovely" Ed is.
Obviously man cannot live by instinct alone, like he definitely should have thought for a minute about making a deal with Geraldo to fence the hostage. Stede needs to learn to balance the two and when to listen to either/both of them. But I was just so excited to see him leaning in the way he does because it underlines a feeling I've had for a minute, which is that Stede's instincts are those of someone crushing and then falling in love, and that never wavers.
He lacks the context and vocabulary to identify what's going on without outside intervention, but he also deeply gets it in a way that's extremely queer and that I hope starts showing up more in the fanon. I do a little happy dance every time I see this in people's fics and I just need so many more of them! Give me more eager Stede who is Ready To Go once he's given the right context for his feelings about Ed!
throwing my donnie-loving followers the occasional bone the way des throws me the occasional pork chop
pwp, 🌶️🌶️🌶️
You walk into the lab to find Donnie carefully setting a timer next to some chemistry experiment he has bubbling. Your interest is piqued, and you walk over to him, opening your mouth to ask him what he’s working on.
He is on you in a flash. Pressing you against a table, tongue down your throat and hand on your breast. Your hands fly to his shoulders as he leans harder into you, bending you backwards over the table. His other hand reaches behind you to land on the table, keeping the two of you up. All you can do is make a confused moan into his mouth as his thumb drags over your nipple.
Donnie takes his time, leisurely mapping out your mouth with his tongue as if he hasn’t done so a thousand times before. You give in, always so easy for him, and melt. Breath hitching as he rewards you by kneading your breast in just the way he knows you like it. Fingers digging into his markings as his thigh slots between yours, where you are already wet for him.
You feel his lips twitch up as you start to slide up and down his thigh with a little whine, and you suck on his tongue in retaliation. It’s the last coherent action you take. Everything devolves into heat and haze and Donnie. He starts to rub his tongue along the top of your mouth in time with your grinding, and you start to shake.
Your moan of protest when he removes his thigh is cut short when his hand slides down your body and into your panties. His thumb gathers up some of your slick and starts to circle your clit as his finger slides inside you.
He finger fucks you deep and slow, and you can’t stop the moans that continuously slide out around his tongue. You throw your arms around his neck, fingers grasping at the cool metal of his battle shell in a futile attempt to ground yourself.
You shiver when he crooks his finger, rubbing against it to help him find that spot inside you that has you seeing stars. He finds it at the same time that he presses down firmly on your clit with his thumb, and you shake apart against him.
When you come back down, it’s to find Donnie watching you, licking his hand clean of your slick. You shudder at the sight, causing him to smirk. Before either of you can do more than stare at each other, the timer goes off. Donnie’s eyes light up. “Oh! Perfect timing!”
He hustles back to his experiment, leaving you fucked out and grasping at the table behind you to keep upright. You blink at his back as he starts to mutter to himself, then sigh and lower yourself shakily into his chair. It’s going to be a while before you get more than mutters out of him now.