#He does have thoughts

[thrift-store-shrek]

"...Martha Stewart killed John Lennon?"

I sat there, just staring. I felt nauseous, despite the fact I was lying on my kitchen floor. Perhaps the cat sitting on my chest has something to do with it. However, that couldn't be right, because I only had allergies to cucumbers and red onion. Cats were safe, cute, a like fluffy liquid bricks.

"...Frog Tart, what is going on?"

I speak my inquiry to said cat, Frog Tart. He just settles down, his tiny little ginger head, filled with nothing but air and the vague notion of cheese, tucked under his fluffy tail.

Nausea. Right. I needed to throw up- wow, I needed to throw up. I swallow the bile, a disgusting action many people do but won't admit, and lie there.

"...Froggie boy, America's baking sweetheart may have gone to jail for more than tex evasion."

Frog Tart doesn't reply. He's stupid, like a brick. Hes built like one too. But my mind starts wandering. Hm, Jail...

Jail!

It sit bolt upright, and Frog Tart proceeds to use me as a springboard. For a moment, air isn't going in as it used to, and then I can breath.

"I can be a superhero with this."

Much like the notion of cheese Frog Tart has rattling around his brain like a DVD Video logo bouncing off corners of a screen, people always have those thoughtsof becoming a superhero. Raised on books, films, comics, manga, and shows of those talented individuals who fight for the right thing, like the downfall of greedy corporations and governments, or to catch that guy in a suit trying to lower his streets property value, the people have always thirsted to become the one to do it.

Down with the Neighborhood Watch Association and all that.

But now I have the power to see the truths of everything. Brilliant flashes in my brain that suggest an oncoming headache, answers to all my questions popping up as soon as I need them.

I could do anything now!

--

At least, that was what I thought six hours ago.

Its too late to say "sike" I think. Frog Tart would agree if he had the words. Or brain cells.

As it turns out, while Martha Stewart did in fact kill John Lennon, it was an inside job. Apparently, a British boy with a nice face and good voice was a threat of enormous levels. So Martha, thirty-nine years old, was hired by the government to get rid of him.

Just like the sudden death of Lennon, God bless his soul and may he be at peace, I am suddenly now a supervillain.

Burdened with the knowledge that parasites didn't eat JFK's brain, and that Harvey Lee Oswald was a fall guy. I decided to not look in to that after I fell over after seeing the sentence "extraterrestrials wearing high-quality leather jockstraps" flashed in my mind. Some things are better left unsaid. And unseen.

I could pour bleach directly onto my brain, I would.

Instead, I've got sewer smell in my hair. At least Frog Tart is with me.

"Well, Froggy, what to do?"

I ponder aloud. I stroke my dumb, loyal cat. Ginger through and through. Not a thought behind those eyes of his. The void stares back if I look into them.

He meows. He's hungry. I am too. I nod sagely.

"Yes, food. Then maybe world domination?"

I joke around. Frog Tart looks up at me, and suddenly I am reminded that cats aren't as dumb as we think. Not a thought behind those little eyes of his, and yet there a chill down my spine.

"...I was kidding, but the truth is what matters, right?"

Something we were taught as children: always tell the truth. Never lie, not even little ones. Did you steal that cay? Yes. Did you bite him? Yes. Did Martha Stewart kill John Lennon? Yes.

Would I be able to overthrow the government?

Yes.

I have to lie down again. The sewer smell is going to sink into my skin, and I'll smell like what a US presidential candidates pants do. Ew.

A lot can change in six hours. Next time, I'll be more careful when I pray I can skip finals.

"...I should expose how corrupt universities are."

Frog Tart bats my face with one furry orange paw like you'd bat a wicket in badminton.

No more finals, anyway... on the plus side, I know what Banksy looks like.

...on second thought, that's one truth I'd better not tell. I can excuse lying by omission.

Sometimes.

I decide to lie there for a few hours in the sewers, a brief moment of respite before I go full Supervillian and overhaul the entire government just to expose what's really in Hot Cheetos.

You have one super power: The ability to know without fail what the truth is to any asked question. You planned to help the world as a super hero. It took you six hours for the government to declare you public enemy number one and the most deadly super villain alive.

[mochasucculent]

Was looking at refs and since Viktor has two different leg braces I was wondering, do we think he wears them simultaneously?? The refs don't perfectly line up perspective-wise so it's hard to tell but parts of the one he wears during the Hexcore scenes look like they could maybe line up with the brace that he wears over his clothes, but also some parts really don't and look like they'd be super uncomfy. Also HOW does he take these on and off. Experts weigh in

[mooreaux]

Love Undying

[artsymeeshee]

Random idea I got this morning thinking about how small little things (mostly about missing important moments of the past) make the boys emotional and sorrowful.

[doomedclockworkdotmp3]

his therapist woulda had a field day at their next appointment

[egophiliac]

doylist explanation for why Gidel is only in Fellow's non-idle lesson animations: probably something about space constraints and making sure two sprites in one seat aren't covering anyone else when they're not in focus

watsonian explanation for why Gidel is only in Fellow's non-idle lesson animations: he snuck in and is hiding from the teachers, don't give him away 🤫

(I've reached my limit of unsuccessful attempts at pulling them before I need to save keys for Halloween, so I've been living vicariously through youtube videos...but the fact that Gidel just pops up from under the desk to wave his arms around happily is really testing my resolve. D: I'm gonna die when they finally get to do alchemy...)

[ciderjacks]

dad issues

+

(I think they were all fundamentally affected by what they saw and just collectively decided not to share the upsetting details)

[pineapple-frenzy]

Book 2 au: sparring sessions and short hair katara

They like to have sparring sessions in order to keep their bending skills sharp. They allow themselves to go all out and not hold back at all cause they know if anyone got hurt, Katara could just heal them

But anyways, wouldn't it be kinda funny if Zuko accidentally burned Katara's hair tho? Aofkqldkkajfjd

The "I think we can save the hairloops" line is from @linnoya-writes thank you for that!! :>>

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

My Great Grandma who loved her babies very much

Reference that I used for the face!

[spidehpig]

obsessed with the thought of bird not really knowing anything about simon’s military endeavors. has no idea he wears a fucking skull mask everywhere on base and on missions. just kind of assumed he wore standard gear. shows up on base the day he’s supposed to get back to surprise him only to be roughly dragged by her scruff down the hall into an office room by some big BRUTE in a bloodied skull mask covered from head to toe in gear. squawking and squealing as some asshole manhandles her into a private room, ready to start screaming just for said asshole to tear off his mask and coo at her for being so dramatic and frightened. it’s just him, quit your hollering.

simon all riled up from the recent mission, adrenaline still flooding his system just starts pawing at her and shoving a greedy hand down her panties. annoyed for a brief moment when she struggles and grips at the thick wrist between her thighs. doesn’t she know he needs a warm hole to fuck more than anything right now. he’s about to flip her around and gag her so he can play with her pussy just how he wants be she’s blushing and shyly asking him to put the mask back on before he fucks her.

dirty girl ruining her panties over the idea of some big masked brute having his way with her… oh it drives him crazy… he’s pulling the mask back down immediately and slamming her against his office door with his favorite knife to her throat as he bullies a thick finger into her tight cunt :( he’s so mean too. muttering about how she’s a dirty little cockslut just gagging for some stranger’s big cock :(

[artkaninchenbau]

People keep on asking for more Baby Robin and Papadile so here is more Baby Robin and Papadile. Now never ask anything from me ever again

[obsessedwithstarwars]

Okay you can’t tell me that Vlad doesn’t have an organ somewhere in his mansion. Upon learning of this, Danny would teach himself how to play the Haunted Mansion theme on the organ and play it at 2am.

Vlad Masters is away on business in Gotham, and the Fentons are coincidentally there for a symposium on ecto-activity. So it’s perfect! Except he goes to the wrong house, er mansion.

Honestly, Danny thought it was one of Vlad’s many mansions. Scaring the old man is his favorite activity after all. There’s a higher amount of ectoplasm here, so it has to be Vlad’s place right?

When Bruce comes out (on one of his few nights off) and sees his carbon copy playing the organ, all thoughts fly out of his head. Danny finally looks up and also blue screens. They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity until Danny’s cell phone rings (the ghostbusters theme??) and he panics. He jumps up and makes a break for the other door rushing through apologies “SorryWronghousegottagobye!” And runs out of the room. “Wait! Who are you?”Bruce exclaims as he rushes after him. They’re on the second story in one of the rooms he rarely uses. How did he know where the organ was? No matter. He’ll catch the kid on the stairs.

Except the kid is already almost at the bottom. How did he get down so effortlessly? The kid practically floated down the stairs.

Bruce gets to the foyer just in time to see the kid realize the door was dead-bolted in multiple spots. He won’t be able to undo them all before Bruce catches up to him.

He slows down and stands behind a pillar, assessing his next move. He needs to be careful here. This is a child after all, no need to spook him any more than he already has. He needs to slowly approach, and ask his questions.

But then the kid does the unexpected. After looking around frantically, he takes a deep breath. Two rings form around his middle and travel up and down his body. His black hair turns ghostly white. He looks back, almost directly at Bruce. His eyes widen as if he realizes he’s being watched. He whispers, barely loud enough to hear, “I’m so sorry, please don’t follow me.” Then, he backs through the locked door and vanishes.

[800db-cloud]

i like to imagine spy’s old dark grey suit is actually his company mandated uniform :)

[plesiosaurys]

getting emotional over footage of an amateur scuba diver interacting with a coelacanth. they are hunted by large deepwater predators, and here comes a large creature bearing the brightest lights it's ever seen, making strange noises, but it does not shy away. it hovers, calmly, as the diver reaches out and trails a hand down its back. im strongly against the anthropomorphizing of real life animals but the stupid emotional part of me loudly insists this is because it recognizes us, the alternating movements of its four paired limbs matching the diver's four paired limbs, & it is thinking, "hello, cousins, we missed you these 66 million years, it's so good to see you again. welcome back, welcome home."

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Not beating the allegations.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[baeshijima]

hmmm.... thoughts about composer!reader, whose pieces are always created for and featured in mr reca's films/projects.

people aren't sure when it first started, but in the release of one of his prior films was an ost. of course, it's not unusual to have music in such projects, but that one had felt... different, somehow — in the way its composition struck the chords of many, with billions across the cosmos instantly scouring for who made that piece.

it, of course, didn't take all that long when your name was featured in the credits. however there was barely any information aside from your name and credentials. (seriously, how could there not even be a single photo?!) no one knew what you looked like for quite a long time, only ever recognising your name and your music; even despite the numerous interviews, mr reca had never disclosed anything about you other than your talents. it came to a point where everyone believed they would never see your appearance.

well, until all hell broke loose during the annual intergalactic film awards, that is.

everyone already knew the drill — if mr reca had directed a film that year, it would undoubtedly win the adapted/original screenplay, cinematography, directing, production design, sound, music (original score and song), and film of the year awards, which also led to you winning both the music awards. usually, the composers would be the ones to collect said awards. however, the masses have become used to mr reca being the one to collect them on your behalf with thank you's also on your behalf.

that's how it's been ever since you made your mark in the universe, and so it really is understandable the uproar created by those in and out of attendance when the one who went collect the two awards wasn't the esteemed director, but a completely unfamiliar person; you.

you are definitely younger than they originally thought, having believed it must have been someone of a senior status of sorts to have consistently created such masterpieces. all eyes are trained on you as you step on stage and into the limelight for the first time, the light enhancing your features and formal attire when approaching the mic with a small flashcard in hand. your mouth opens, and the audience leans in with baited breaths as they await your first words.

...only for nothing to come out.

everyone watches a little dumbfounded as you try to talk once more but, aside from gaping like a fish, your efforts remain futile. it doesn't take long for you to clamp your mouth and eyes shut, even raising the awards in front of you in an attempt to shield your face from the crowd.

you... you were just really shy. or maybe a little...socially awkward, perhaps...? if this was the reason you never showed yourself, then they're beginning to understand why...

it passes in a blur — quite literally in that of brown. one moment you are alone on the stage, the next you have the presence of the renown director standing slightly in front of you, as though acting as a shield from the many prying eyes.

"apologies," he begins, his usual smile on display, "but my dearest composer has been suffering with a sore throat these past few days. on their behalf, we thank you all kindly for your support in our work."

and then he swiftly leaves with you tucked under and shielded by his coat, murmuring unreadable words to you as you both disappear backstage and leave everyone in a state of frenzy; to both those inside the ceremonial hall, and to those watching live elsewhere.

(it was only discovered after the awards ceremony concluded what the director had said to you, with the uploader being dubbed as a holy saint for their contributions to society. while the visual aspects of the video itself were not the clearest, barely anyone had it within themselves to complain when the audio was clear as crystal:

"and here i thought you were going to be brave and face your stage fright after all that pep-talk you gave yourself on the way here."

"i'm sorry... i really thought i could do it this time..."

"now, now, i'm merely teasing. you made a big step just making an appearance here today. i know how much courage this took for you, and i'm proud of you for facing it."

"really...?"

"but of course. i'm always proud of you, [name]. there is not a moment where i haven't been.")

(it also was not long until the cosmos was taken by storm when various pictures snapped during the awards ceremony spread. the millions of candids featuring you were one of the most liked and shared, with the top spot joined by the sequence of pictures taken of mr reca's soft expression when watching you onstage, into his realisation of your predicament, into him running onstage and shielding you from the cameras when making your way backstage.)

(...the drastic influx of fan accounts dedicated to both you alone and to you and reca should really be a studied phenomenon.)