#bro i might write this actually

[psychicbluebirdmiracle]

Ok but what if I wrote a fic of if odysseus had raised the infant?????

[omegaovaries]

prompt: memories | ao3

Ace notices little details of people’s appearances more often than he’d like to admit.

It’s easy on the Grandline – Ace has seen and met and fought more people in a year than he has in his entire childhood on Dawn. There’s all different sorts of people to meet, to avoid, to just be around it almost makes him dizzy.  

It takes a while before he catches onto what he’s doing. 

He stares a little too long at blond men and women, watching the sunlight catch into their hair, watching the moonlight make the strands glitter. He stares at certain shades of blue too long – blue ribbons and waistcoats and denim and eyes. But especially the ocean. He has to shake himself awake from a trance somedays, staring out at the waves that can be so bright they mirror the sky, staring out at indigo waves only illuminated by moonlight.

The Spades noticed after a while and eventually the Whitebeards do too. 

How his eyes would linger on top hats and hair that would curl just so and how sometimes, he would go quiet and watch the waves from the highest point on deck, thumb rubbing across the embroidery of an old but well kept handkerchief. They notice how on certain days Ace is too loud or too quiet, staring out into the ocean at random moments, fingers unconsciously pressed against the ‘S’ in his tattoo. 

When Luffy’s first wanted poster comes out, instead of saying ‘my little brother,’ Ace will sometimes say ‘our little brother.’ 

Before Ace leaves Luffy near Alabasta to continue his hunt for Blackbeard, he tells him, “We’re proud of you,” easy and automatic. Luffy’s quick “I know,” comes out just as easy.

They both freeze for a moment before Luffy smiles at him, wide and sunny. “I know you guys are.”

[nenoname]

stan twins the canon cptsd brothers i will always think about all your unaddressed issues that would make perfect plot fuel for your spinoff

and also the whole 'stan getting that poem by bill via a website which contrasts with bill getting one from the axolotl via a website' foreshadowing thing

like idk i would love something like su future but like more optimistic, aka not an accumulated breakdown that has to be mostly resolved off screen at the end :/// but something thats being kinda addressed throughout? (although would love to see one of them turn into a monster thats always fun lol)

stan having severe issues from his dad and those years of being homeless that we keep on getting more info on but never really getting confronted on (the drifter catalogue and tijuana incident...), him being completely alone for like twenty years when running the shack before soos comes along to the point that 1998 is noted as his low point, and him not really learning about bill+what he did to ford until ages after he killed him if he ever did get the full context

while i think amnesia and everyone seeing him as a hero actually helped with stan's 'i'm a worse version of my brother' thing its still a lingering issue too and we now got him being insecure over his own hands

ford being immediately thrown from 'being tortured by bill' to 'being stuck in the multiverse and being chased by bounty hunters constantly', him fully expecting himself to die when destroying bill, and him only now being safe for the first time in 30 years ....relatively safe, he's still in constant danger because of course he is

idk in the end the series wants them to be happy and they deserve it, its why i wasn't too worried about the book being like 'ooh bill is back!! and the book is haunting ford' thing cos i knew they'll be ok

[moralcandy]

fifteen things that don't come back, by charlie slimecicle:

number one. the paper airplane you and your daughter throw at your husband while his back is turned in the kitchen, the two of you hiding behind the counter as you snicker quietly when he stops humming and yelps a curse as he turns around with a faux angry expression and a poorly-hidden smile.

number two. the glass your daughter broke trying to grab it from the cabinet on her tippy-toes. you didn't look over until you heard the glass shatter against the kitchen floor, too preoccupied with grabbing the jug of cold orange juice from the fridge to notice until it was too late. golden, afternoon sunlight shone warmly on the both of you from the open window as you swept it up while she stood to the side with a sheepish expression.

number three. your husband's soft shirt he let you borrow when you said you couldn't find your own but really you just quickly shoved yours under the bed when he wasn't looking. you absently noted that it smelled like him. your lips curved into a slight smile without input. your foot shoved your shirt under the bed a little bit farther.

number four. the pictures you took of your daughter and niece, hugging eachother as they posed for the camera, the photo incinerated into ash when you blew up your house. you frantically dug through your daughter's chest afterwards, soot covering your hands as you searched for the photograph. you did not find it.

number five. your niece.

number six. the feeling of a cold glass of wine held tipsily in your hand, the waterdrop of condensation slipping down the glass at the same pace your tears did down your cheeks. you downed the alcohol until there was nothing left except a burning feeling and a lump in your throat. the bartender did not give you another drink.

number seven. your friend, the one who used to laugh hysterically with you as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders before he began to scream at you while he wrapped his hands around your neck. he pushed you into the dirt, the metallic taste of blood in your mouth and the feeling of wet dirt on your skin as you absently question whether the water dripping on your face was the rain or the tears slipping down your friend's face. you know that was the funeral of your children, but you think both of the real 'you's died that day, too.

number eight. the warm, rumbling feeling of laughter in your chest as a smile hurts your cheeks, the sensation long gone. your mouth, for a moment, twitches into a small smile at the memory of the feeling.

number nine. the feeling of hands on your own, your husband's warm hands intertwined with yours as your cold, golden rings clink against eachother. your daughter's tiny hand clasped around yours as she leads you to a butterfly she found, grass brushing your ankles as you walk.

ten. the sound of your daughter's amused laughter, snorts interrupting occasionally. her head leans back as she giggles, her eyes scrunched up in happiness.

eleven. the sound of your husband's soothing voice, lilting with fondness as he looks at you. a smile absently crosses his face as he speaks, audible in his voice. you always remember smiling back.

twelve. your golden wedding band your husband lovingly slipped onto your ring finger so long ago, the one you furiously tossed into a dusty corner with particularily bad aim. you blame the poor aim on the tears blurring your vision, but it could've been the alcohol, really.

thirteen. your husband. you try to go to sleep in the center of your bed now, knowing that he won't be there. when you wake up, you always find yourself on the left side of the bed, as if you've moved in your sleep to accommodate someone. you scowl and think that your asleep self should stop being so stupid. ..you make the bed just in case he really does decide to come back.

fourteen. your daughter. whenever you make yourself breakfast now, you keep accidentally making two bowls, the muscle memory automatic, familiar, and no longer needed. you sit down at the table and set the bowls and begin to eat, but you always end up just stirring the cereal with your spoon as you stare at the untouched bowl across from you. you always end up throwing them both away. without your input, a frown tugs slightly at your lips as your pour out the second bowl but you know that nobody else was even here to eat it anyway. your eyes burn.

fifteen. your daughter, the one you know isn't the real one. sometimes you walk down those train tracks where you found her, hoping she'll be here this time. she never is. ..you still keep checking, just in case.

[flauntyourfoolishness]

kinda want to see a perv!big bro who 'decides he is entitled' (loves his lil sis so much he has to fuck her but he is incapable of being a good big bro that simply wants to please his girl) to his weird, closed-off and also fucked up in the head little sister's pushy. she, who instead of being manipulated by him into getting him off or scared, she just does whatever he says, expressionless and making eye contact with him the whole time. even though sometimes she tears up and looks mad and sometimes she moans and push his hair or grip and scratch him as she curls her toes in pleasure, when he's done riding his high,,, it doesn't matter if he kisses her passionately or treat her strictly as his holes to use,,, she just goes to clean herself or,,,,,,,, keep his cum in her as she gets out of the room and interacts normally with their family, his friends...

the way it doesn't matter how much he taunts her, she just keeps being indifferent to his feelings to how,, basically, they are hopeless degenerates,,, it makes him a little lovesick crazy, hard as a rock, which in turn, makes her be pressed against a wall or a door or bent over on some furniture

some of his friends, always eager to embrace whatever is freaky, either tries to ignore the hints of the dynamic (just because) or smirk at her, giving knowing glances, letting her now they know,,, the more wicked the glint in their eyes seem, the more nasty things they probably know about their deeds,,,, but she looks away and stays unfazed,,, mostly,, trying to suppress a smile from how giddy it makes her feel,,,, boyish antics

whenever big bro say something to try to rile her up or turn her on in front of them so he can get off to degrading and humiliating her (she is usually unresponsive but he never stops trying bc he's obsessed). she looks up from her phone to look quickly at every single boy's face, without wasting the energy to lift her head up, and then looks back at her phone, unbothered.

they are all looking at her, not hiding that they would jump at the chance to enjoy free access to their best friend's lil sis, expecting the opportunity to tease her but she never shy away from them,, just ignores it, or,,, sometimes,,, going out of her way to be between the mainspread men on the couch when the siblings' parents are at home,,, they all want to grip her thighs but,,,,,,,, just silently enjoy the way her bro actually does it, shamelessly if their parents are out, as if she is his to pet, grip, pinch, hold tight and she is,,, or purposefully slapping her thigh as hard as he can so their parents would subtly throw curious glances at the living room, poking their heads to check what the loud noise was but dismissing it when they hear all the boys snickering, assuming it's just harmless play, unaware of the dark red full imprint of their perv son on their daughter's thigh, that makes the blood of all of the teenagers in the house rush to where it shouldn't be rushing in their household, right under their noses

he revel in the knowledge that whenever he slaps her ass in front of his friends, stays way too close behind her when they are all crowded up in the kitchen, sniffing her or kind of backhugging his sis and sometimes even shamelessly rubbing himself on her ass, pulling her to his lap when 'the cost is clear',,,, said friends are intently watching, pupils fully blown, salivating, awkwardly fixing their shorts,,,, cocks hard on command due to the deviant acts they are witnessing

he does all that and expects her to either match his high drive, desperately seek the attention she sometimes let it show that she enjoys,,, or even give him an actual good reason to manhandle her, hatefuck her,,, like, telling him to stop, cursing him or fighting back,,, instead of simply look back at him and,,,,,, getting herself off of how she doesn't have to do anything, she doesn't have to try,,,,,, he's completely obsessed with her and he gets a thrill out of it, loving every single minute of how he's always around, always touching, always watching, always invading, clouding, controlling, possessing, owning,, always trying to monopolize her whole being

,,,, that's how it starts, after all, he wants her, so he hold her down,, tells her she is going to take every bit of him,,, and when she simply does, he keeps doing it, he keeps doing it. without ever regretting it bc as long as he can choose he would always make her his.

[swagging-back-to]

worst trope is found family separating as soon as the antagonist is dealt with.

[marshmurmurs]

hes eepy

the abyss but what it looks like is based off of the hunters memories. it expands with each death in a vault, taking bits and pieces and building, creating something that should feel familiar to the hunters, something they should want to trust, something that is every so slightly Wrong

sparkly doesnt die in the abyss in the funky abyss au but he is in there fairly willingly and the abyss is able to poke around his head and go shopping for landscaping ideas. helps that he remembers the forest of the abyss fondly

[hikarry]

Okay children, gather around. It's "Spencer Complains and Acts a Little Mad" Time:

I have been raw dogging life for 1 month without my adhd/depression/anxiety/mood stabilizers medication and without a single Therapy appointment

I haven't left my house in 1 month, I haven't spoken to any of my (in person) friends in over 1 month, I haven't seen my family in 1 month, I haven't seen my bloody cat in over 1 month, I've barely left my bloody room in over 1 month, and I've been listening to my bloody voice almost every day for 1 hour so I can finish editing the bloody podcast for over a month

To top it all of: I haven't had a decent night's sleep in about 4 days now (in which I just don't sleep or I have extremely vivid nightmares with my departed mother and/or scenarios where I die over and over and over again but can't speak to ask for help before it happens - fun for all the family, if you ask me) and I might or might not be completely and absolutely going insane, with only Good Omens season 1 (6/6) and season 2 (5/6) and the existence of Crowley/red haired Fire Pokemon David Tennant Edition being my sole producer of any amount of serotonin

How am I alive? Good question. Beautiful genderfluid demonic content can be some very nice very distracting content for individuals that simp for Fire Type David Tennant Pokemon like myself

I am quite sure my only contact with anything mental health related in the past weeks has been my best friend whom is very very annoying and refuses to leave me the heck alone and whom is a nurse and is working extra time to advice my stupid ass the best she can, bless her heart

So, with my personal nurse's permission, I have doubled my sleeping medication for the night and, as Fall Out Boy once wrote for the song "Alone Together" in one of my favorite albums to have ever been created "Save Rock and Roll": I'll check in tomorrow if I don't wake up dead

[mollyrolls]

the state of affairs in the mollyrolls household, a comprehensive list

spent the past week working and stressing so hard over all my projects that i worked myself sick

i am pretty sure that sickness somehow maybe turned into covid, test pending

i am making myself even more sick bc i am terrified to ask this one professor for an extension on my paper even though i desperately need it

i almost fell over in the shower bc im so dizzy

i have plans tmrw night that i might not be able to participate in fully bc i am STRUCK DOWN BY THE FUCKING PLAUGE

^ which i will kms over

i have one (1) antidepressant left which means i have to go to the pharmacy today

see 4 for why that is a problem

i cant swallow anything bc my sinuses are that inflamed

all this to say, if i go awol and literally die, one of these reasons is probably why

[tetzoro]

gooooood morning and happy fridayayay ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و !! <- me cheering you guys on because we have made it through another week !! that’s amazing hehe let’s start this weekend off right ! remember to drink lots of water + be extra gentle with yourselves !! 🤍💫

[kairithemang0]

I need Curt and Owen to go to some beach with sparklers and run into the water with them and then tackle each other into the sea in the middle of the night and the tide rushes over them and as they kiss a wave falls on top of them and they refuse to stop laughing about it and it wasn't even that funny, but they can't stop themselves LET. THEM. BE. CUTE

[spigosaur]

ok ok ok

new crack ship

Scrags x Curt Mega

hear me out!

This is almost entirely based on two facts: 1. Spies are Forever and The Solve it Squad exist in the same universe 2. Scrags and Owen Carvour are both played by Joey Richter.

But also, they have both lost someone close to them and deserve somebody who helps them heal from the trauma.

Now imagine the following scenario:

One of the Solve it Squad's mysteries happens to be related to the same organisation/person/something, as one of Chrt's missions. They don't immediately run into each other and whem their paths eventually cross, they don't interact, the squad just runs past Curt or the other way around. But when Curt sees them more specifically when he sees Scrags- of course, he instantly recognises his face. Curt doesn't understand. Owen? Did he somehow survive their last encounter? Did he trick Curt and only faked his death? Is he secretly behind whatever mission Curt is currently on?

Curt starts investigating and makes contact with the squad. They work together to solve both their mystery and Curt's mission. At first, Curt only treats this alliance as a way to get behind what's up with Scrags and him looking like Owen, which is why he makes sure to spend a lot of time with him. He realises pretty quickly that Scrags can't be Owen, but he stays with the squad until the end of the investigation because even if he won't admit it, he enjoys their company - especially Scrags' of course.

Curt is pretty annoyed by the squad's inability to stay focused on the mission and how unprofessional they act, but he actually fits in with their chaos quite well, and once he gets used to it, this less strict environment takes off some of the pressure from him. Meanwhile, Scrags really appreciates working with someone who actually takes their job seriously for once. (Scrag's history with the fbi plays into this somehow)

Of course, they end up bonding over their shared trauma of loosing the person/dog closest to them and forming this close relationship with somebody who really understands their pain helps them to fill the holes Owen/Cluebert have left.

The long game would not be for Curt to join the solve it squad, but rather to become a recurring character. The solve it squad just occasionally collaborates with Scrag's spy boyfriend now.

[synthshenanigans]

Man its hard to have a second favorite when they're all insanely good augh

[somebodyminecrafyidk]

[What Could Have Been]

After the unfortunate reveal of what kind of person Wilbursoot was, I was unsure whether or not to post this, but I've decided to. Here is my outline for the beginning of a fanfic I was writing...

Note: Everything under the cut was written before Wilbur was exposed for being an abuser, as well as some of the tags

A Modern-Vampire!AU involving SBI and a few other people.

Techno is an aspiring writer that recently moved into a very... low quality aparment. He's taken note of the number of bats that fly around the neighborhood and has developed a habit many people in his apartment complex have; feeding fruit to the bats that hang out around his place.

The place is pretty chill. Techno works at this nice Café. (Whether it's Niki's or not is up to you.) He's developed a small rivalry with this random kid who pesters him for food all the time. Techno usually shares his lunch with the kid. (Techno admits the kid is pretty cute with his squid themed. backpack and hoodie)

Anyway, Techno is doing well, he's adjusting to the neighborhood, his boss is pretty nice, and he even has the free time to write his second novel now.

Time passes and Techno has fully adjusted to the place, getting comfortable until... Tommy shows up! Tommy is a fledgling vampire who recently was given the freedom of going out. (As long as one of the other coven members are with him.)

One day while out, Tommy gets distracted and wanders off, loseing his caretaker of the night. This leads to Tommy getting lost and ariving at an old apartment complex. The place has bat boxes and Tommy prepares to spend the day in one to hide from the sun.

While trying to hide from the sun in his bat form, Tommy finds this weird guy with shitty pink hair who's been trying to lure him inside with grapes. (Techno sees a small pup without it's mother desperately hiding in his very old and falling apart bat box.)

Eventually Techno gets the pup inside, wrapping him up in a soft baby blanket and putting him in a shoe box with a warming pad.

Tommy is scared and confused by the actions of this random human... but he quite likes the warm box he's been put in... it's not his fault if he fell asleep!

Across the city is a frantic Wilbur trying to find his missing brother who disappeared after he looked away for a second! Okay, maybe he was staring at that pretty human running the nearby record store but Tommy had been right there beside him!

Wilbur and the rest of the coven desperately searches for Tommy before being forced to take refuge from the sun indoors.

I'm unsure of what happens next but Tommy eventually makes his way back and is promptly grounded and forced to stay indoors. The only problem is that... Tommy has imprinted on Techno during his time with him and begins sneaking out to hang out with Techno. (Techno is relieved that the little bat he helped was doing well!)

[lordsukunas]

dumb question BUT

how did maki mai n toji get education?

to preface - idk shit about how nobility or fancy clan stuff work so this might actually be a dumb question but like... if they didnt like them why would they educate them yk

p sure maki n mai were gonna be servants, but then they went to highschool n im p sure they have decent grades, so who did they learn from? cus if their cursed technique develops at like age 6-8 (dont remember specifically) their education level would be second grade at best right?

n for toji they were literally tryna kill that nigga so idk. then again hes a man so maybe they tried to give him an education so they wouldnt have a 'dumb man zenin' but they wouldve detected his lack of ce at birth

did they have tutors? did they go to actual schools? ik megumi went to middle school n elementary, but the 3 zenin rejects stayed w/ the clan so... did toji even get a highschool diploma (its more likely he got a ged but idk what he ran away at)

[wordcafe]

I’ve literally read every single Avatar fic there is.