#but just found it in my drafts and wanted to post

[catsukkii]

shoto has a staring problem.

dating shoto was…an experience. you were his first everything and you had to teach him a lot about relationships, not that you minded, sometimes he would just do odd things in your relationship.

one of those things, was he would constantly just stare at you. it was cute sometimes, but other times it was downright creepy the way he’d make eye contact all the time. Even when you’d shy away from his gaze, everytime you would look back he was right there with those damn eyes.

it was honestly starting to creep you out. what was his obsession?

once again, you were sitting at a nice little coffee shop, the environment was cozy and it was raining outside; how much more romantic could it get?

apparently not romantic at all.

“shoto…” you sigh as he stares into your soul again, “what is up with you and staring at me?” it seems he snaps out of his daze and looks at you, confusion evident on his face.

“what?” he questions quirking a brow. “It’s just..your always staring into my soul y’know? It’s a little creepy sho.” his mouth slightly parts and he nods in understanding.

“oh, I’m sorry. I thought that’s what people did in relationships? hold eye contact?” you furrow ur brows, eyes narrowing in confusion at him. where the hell did he here that?

“sho…who told you that?” at this point you have a borderline concerned expression on your face, he averts his gaze sheepishly, flustered and embarrassed by his upcoming answer.

“well…before we were dating..” he sighs and his face scrunches at the thought of admitting this to you outloud. “I made a tiktok, a secret one.” you’re nodding along, but this did catch you off guard considering shoto never used social media, especially tiktok.

“I obviously found your account and went through your…reposts.” you cut off his brief explanation with confusion. “okay but—wait wait, what does this have to do with your staring problem?” you express your point with your hands, moving them from your face to infront of you in an outwards confused motion.

“well…you reposted a video, and it said something like..” he pauses to think for a moment, recalling what the video said. “oh yeah, ‘when he holds eye contact’. so I’ve been trying to do it to impress you but..I suppose it backfired.” he cleared his throat and sheepishly avoiding your eyes, now because of embarrassment.

but this made your confused face turn into a fit of giggles, “aw sho, it’s cute to hold eye contact but not all the time and you’re also supposed to blink, silly.” he awkwardly laughs along with you, he’s slowly realizing how creepy he probably came off..he just wanted to impress you!

“yeah..I apologize.” he places his elbows on the wooden table and places his head in his hands in shame, you’re still giggling over the whole situation. “and I do mean to blink..I just get distracted by you and your voice.” he mumbles into his hands, causing your cheeks to flush and your heart to swell even harder.

“awww…you’re so sweet sho!” you laughter continues, you reach over the table and pull his hands away from his face to give him a sweet peck to the lips; which he quickly reciprocated.

you loved your emotionally constipated boyfriend with a staring problem.

a/n; had to post smth so have this draft while I suffer w dpdr !!

[yoomiwrites]

Stop moving

Summary: Kid wants you to chill and be quiet for once.

Note: Like wtf, I THOUGHT I had this one already posted but it was in my drafts the whole time. Sorry bout that.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

The Victoria Punk was always alive with chaos, and no one embodied that better than you. Among Eustass Kid’s crew of outlaws, oddballs, and maniacs, your restless energy was legendary. If your leg wasn’t bouncing, your fingers were twisting some random object, or your head was darting around like you were chasing invisible fireflies.

Frankly, Kid tolerated it better than most captains would. His crew was a band of misfits, after all. But today? Today, the clinking of your spoon against the mug of tea you were supposed to be drinking was starting to make his vein pop.

“Oi, Y/N, you gonna stir that tea until it turns into butter, or what?” Kid growled, leaning forward on the armrest of his throne-like chair.

“Huh?” you asked, not stopping. If anything, the clinking got louder as you switched hands. Your left foot started tapping against the floor at double speed. “Oh, sorry, just thinking.”

“Thinking? Looks like you’re trying to power the ship with your leg.” Killer said, shaking his head as he sharpened his knife nearby.

Heat gave you a playful shove. “Man, how do you even sleep at night? Does your bed bounce with you?”

The teasing didn’t bother you. You were used to it by now. Honestly, you enjoyed the crew’s banter—it was all in good fun. But the moment you noticed Kid’s eye twitching, you realized you might be pushing it.

“Sorry, Cap’n,” you said with a sheepish grin, trying to still your leg. It lasted all of three seconds before your fingers found a pen, spinning it between them like a miniature baton.

Kid groaned, standing up abruptly. The heavy stomp of his boots made the whole ship rattle. “That’s it. I can’t take this anymore.”

“Take what?” you asked innocently, still flipping the pen around like it owed you money.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stormed toward you, his mechanical arm clicking ominously as he reached for—what? You didn’t know. Instinctively, you tried to bolt, but Kid was faster.

“Sit. Down,” he ordered, grabbing you by the back of your shirt and plopping you unceremoniously onto a nearby barrel.

“Hey! What the hell, Kid—?”

“Quiet,” he snapped, pulling something from his pocket. It was… rope?

“What are you—oh, no. Nope. You’re not doing this—”

Before you could protest further, Kid tied your wrists together with a surprising amount of skill. You wiggled, but the knots were firm.

“Let me go, you red-haired lunatic!” you shouted, struggling as he tied the other end of the rope to the railing.

“Lunatic? Takes one to know one,” Kid shot back, his grin as sharp as his temper. “If you can’t sit still, I’ll make you sit still.”

The rest of the crew erupted into laughter. Killer nearly dropped his knife, and Wire leaned against the mast for support. Even you couldn’t help but chuckle through your indignation.

“Okay, okay, very funny,” you said, still wriggling against the rope. “Now untie me.”

“Not yet,” Kid said, crossing his arms as he loomed over you. “I want to see if it actually works.”

It didn’t. Within minutes, you were bouncing your leg again, albeit awkwardly, since your arms were restrained. You leaned back against the railing, then forward, then tilted your head to the side.

“Are you kidding me?” Kid groaned.

“What can I say? I’m unbreakable!” you declared proudly.

Eustass pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering curses under his breath. “You’re gonna drive me insane.”

But then, something shifted. Kid crouched down to your eye level, his grin softening into something almost… fond. His scarred hand reached out, ruffling your hair roughly.

“Damn weirdo,” he muttered. “But you’re my weirdo.”

Your face warmed at the unexpected affection, and for once, you stopped moving.

The silence was so abrupt that Kid froze, his hand still tangled in your hair. “What the hell just happened?”

“Nothing!” you said quickly, trying to resume your usual fidgeting, but it was no use. The moment had disarmed you.

Kid smirked, noticing your sudden stillness. “Huh. Guess I found the off switch.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, though you couldn’t hide the grin tugging at your lips.

The crew howled with laughter again, and for the rest of the day, Kid didn’t bother untying you. Turns out, he kind of liked having a quieter ship for once—though he’d never admit it.

[trekscribbles]

The Bushwhack Job: Chapter Fourteen

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen

(Disclaimer: This is a relatively rough draft and subject to change when I post to AO3. I'm just overly excited and want to share what I have.)

Eliot hit the ground forearm-first, rolling along the left side of his body to spare himself as much pain as possible. Lancaster’s shot went high—he heard it thud into the wall, well past the desk he’d landed beneath—but his attention was on the sound of Parker’s footsteps as she broke from cover. One, two, three... The door crashed open, and Lancaster’s answering shot came four seconds too late.

Parker was safe. The rest, he’d figure out.

The radio buzzed against the floor in the middle of the lobby, and he heard a muffled, “Ford, I have Parker. Come around to the front. Lancaster’s still inside with Spencer.”

Thank God for J.B. He really didn’t know how he was going to repay him.

“Hear that?” Eliot called. “Now it’s just you and me. We can still walk out of here before the police show up.”

“No one’s walking out,” Lancaster said. “But you’re right about one thing: we don’t have time to play. Stand up. I won’t shoot, I just want to talk to you face to face.”

Eliot snorted. “Somehow, I’m doubting your sincerity.”

“I give you my word.”

That was as good as useless, but if Eliot wanted to keep him talking long enough to chance an escape, he had to play along. “All right,” he said, sucking in a fortifying breath before straightening behind the desk. His right leg throbbed, and he could feel the blood soaking into his jeans—another pair of Sunny’s ruined. He’d never pay her back at this rate.

Lancaster stood across the room, his derringer aimed at Eliot’s chest. “See you worked your hands free,” Eliot said, rolling his shoulders. “What took you so long? We shouldn’t have been able to beat you down the stairs.”

Lancaster grinned. “I had to stop at my safe. Didn’t want this to get caught up in the explosion.”

He lifted a gun belt, and Eliot snorted. “Don’t you think you’re taking this cowboy thing a little too far?”

“This isn’t a cowboy thing,” Lancaster sneered. “This is a Colt Model 1860 Army Percussion Revolver, owned by Jesse James himself when he rode with the Quantrill Raiders. I bought it for $230,000, but I figured once I found the James treasure, it would sell for twice that.”

A flicker of color outside caught Eliot’s eye: police lights. Their sirens joined the wail of the alarm, and Eliot did his best to push the noise to the back of his mind. “Hard to dig up a treasure on someone else’s property,” he said.

“Well, with you out of the way, that won’t be much of a problem.”

Eliot eased a step backward, shuffling to keep from putting too much pressure on his right leg. “You don’t know Sunny June very well.”

“I don’t need to,” Lancaster said. “That’s the beauty of money. You never have to get your hands dirty.”

“Until now,” Eliot said.

“Until now.” Lancaster lifted the gun, sighting down his arm and closing one eye. “A fact I’m about to remedy.”

Eliot braced himself to turn and run, but Lancaster didn’t shoot. Instead, he bent his knees, set the gun at his feet, and slid it across the floor toward Eliot.

“Pick it up,” he said.

Eliot stared at him. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Shooting at the range is one thing,” Lancaster said, sliding the gun belt off his shoulder and fastening it around his waist. “But I’ve always wanted to know how I’d measure up in a real gun fight.”

“Your gun is 150 years old,” Eliot said. “And mine has a range of like seven yards. Not exactly worthy of the O.K. Corral.”

“You scared?” Lancaster needled.

Eliot laughed. “That don’t work on professionals, hoss. I got nothing to prove to you.”

“Then put it this way.” Lancaster spun the cylinder on his revolver, sliding bullets in as he spoke. “I’m shooting either way. You can pick up that gun and defend yourself, or stand there and take a bullet. Doesn’t matter to me.”

Fire sirens joined the cacophony of alarms, but no one was coming inside. Waiting for the bomb squad, probably—he had to keep stalling. Slowly, he lowered himself into a crouch and reached for the derringer, his eyes on Lancaster’s right hand. He’d holstered the gun and stood with his feet planted wide, grinning.

“How do you see this going down?” Eliot asked. 

Lancaster flexed his hands. “You pick up the gun. It’s already loaded, but you’ll need to cock the hammer. Stand with it at your side, and then we draw. Fastest man wins.”

“Speed’s got nothing to do with it if you can’t land a hit,” Eliot said.

“Then I guess we’re about to test your aim.”

Great—Eliot had no idea if he could shoot. Probably, given his other skills, but it would be just his luck that guns weren’t one of the weapons he was apparently proficient with. But even if he could shoot, even if he could manage to hit Lancaster at the edge of the derringer’s range, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Whatever he’d done in the past, whoever he’d been before… he didn’t want to be a killer. Parker had trusted him to follow her out, and if killed Lancaster now…

He wasn’t sure how much of himself would stay behind.

“On three?” Eliot asked. He’d picked up the gun, frowning at the feel of the short handle in his palm, but was careful to keep it pointed away from Lancaster. 

“So you can shoot on two?” Lancaster said. “You’re not getting inside my head, Spencer. Just draw.”

“It’s not really drawing if I don’t have a holster,” Eliot muttered. He lifted the gun carefully, keeping it at his hip as he rose on his good leg.

“There’s no talking your way out of this one,” Lancaster said, sneering. “Either way, you’re not getting out of this alive.”

Eliot went still. “Either way?”

Lancaster’s fingers twitched, and his gaze darted toward a clock on the wall over Eliot’s head. “You think you’re the only one who can stall?”

Alarms and sirens screamed. Eliot’s heart pounded, sending stabs of adrenaline through him—but no fear. Time was up, and he was getting out. 

He’d made a promise.

“You assumed I had to call to set off the bombs,” Lancaster said, misinterpreting his silence. “That ain’t the only way to do it. I would’ve taken a long lunch, only to come back and find the evil Mr. Ford had made good on his threats again—but this will work. You’ve got about ten seconds to decide whether you want to go out with a bang or a bullet.”

Eliot fired. He aimed high, hoping to take Lancaster by surprise, make him flinch—hoping to steal an extra second while he turned for the door. Lancaster’s gun clicked behind him—a misfire—the idiot had probably tried using the ammunition in the gun belt. He didn’t look over his shoulder to see if Lancaster was following. He fixed his eyes on the doors—on the golden hair he could see beyond them.

The explosion started above them. Without the charges in the basement, the building shook, but held—windows burst overhead, raining glass down on the sidewalk outside. The firefighters and police flinched at the sound, hurrying to usher spectators out of the way. Eliot’s leg gave out and he stumbled, caught himself on one hand, and ran on. He was ten feet away—seven, five, two.

The next charges blew as his hand hit the door, and the force of the blast threw it open, glass shattering around him. He lost his feet, crashing into the sidewalk as heat exploded against his back, and then something hit his head—

[jaeger-tech]

Pacific Rim Dashboard Simulator

🙇‍♀️ alphamycherno Follow

i don't know about this "let's build a wall" thing like. where's the sexiness? the vibes? what's the point of war if we don't even have hot people in big fuckass robots anymore

🎴 coyote-t Follow

there are so many legitimate, important reasons to protest the wall of life, but whatever it takes i guess. sure. it's not fuckable enough

5,345 notes

🐉 exxxtraterrestrial Follow

happy kaiju blue monday!!

#happy kaiju blue monday

137,294 notes

🦅 ppdc-confessions

Anonymous asked:

I'm a janitor at the HK shatterdome and certain two german scientists should either fuck or finally kill each other at this point, I don't care. They're always in the lab no matter the time of day so I can't avoid them and so they try to get me (the janitor) to choose sides in their domestics!! I refuse to step in that lab again and involve myself in whatever the fuck they've got going on. They'll just have to clean that shit themselves

#this is the third confession about these scientists this week are you guys okay

306 notes

🍱 scissure

are we forgetting that PPDC is literally military like you people are not immune to propaganda

☠ buena-guy Follow

You are right. The kaiju are here to bring us to justice, there's no sense in fighting them. If you also feel like this, you can find out more on my blog ❤

🍱 scissure

SILENCE, CULTIST

870 notes

💃 shatterdo-me Follow

what if we kissed in the drift 🥺👉👈 and we were both girls 😳

#ok but for real what do you mean i have to go get into the MILITARY to become a JAEGER PILOT if i want to find my SOULMATE this is so fucked up #release the tech #for the gays

38,563 notes

[yvtro]

i think in general sometimes when people interpret characters they give them too much credit in a sense that they forget that people are often very much contradictory in their beliefs and sometimes they believe one thing but do another like. sometimes people say they want to leave when they want to stay. sometimes they stay when they want to leave. sometimes they say they understand something when they don’t and sometimes they say they don’t need things that they’re desperately yearning for. and if you want to create an appropriately multi dimensional reading of a character you need to accommodate this.

[starry-bi-sky]

fast food is the best course of action after causing a scene. ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀɴʏᴀʟ ᴀʟ ɢʜᴜʟ ᴀᴜ

(First Post Here and Second Post Here

--------

Danny finds Sam easily.

She's right where she said she was over the phone: standing outside on a balcony, in Gotham, at Father's many charity functions. 

("Would you still be willing to fly over to Gotham, Danny?" She asks, her voice ringing clear through the speakers. Danny is already climbing out his window before she even finishes her sentence. He was just about to settle down for the night, his ghosts would know better by now than to disturb him at this time. The Box Ghost not included.)

("Of course." He says, sounding more confident than he feels. Sam was one of his best— closest friends, he would do anything she or Tucker asked. Even if it means stepping foot into his Father's city. He drops down silently, and walks through the house's ghost shield. "Would you like me to bring you anything?")

(Sam sighs through the phone, relief leaking through. "One of the veggie burgers from Nasty Burgers would be great, with their new ecto-fries. Extra salt. I'm sick of all this rich people food.")

(A small smile pulls across Danny's face, tilting at the corner as his living form falls away to his ghost self. "Alright," he says, and kicks himself off the ground, "I'll be there in a few minutes.")

("Thanks, Danny.")

He had the bag of food with him, stored in a container he had to run back to the house to get that would prevent the food from cooling during his flight over. Clutching it in hand, he floats down behind Sam and sheds his invisibility.

Being visible and being invisible always felt different, but in a way Danny can never describe, no matter how many times he tries to think about it. It's like a gut-feeling, a sixth sense, he always knows when he's visible and when he is not.

His ghost form burns away like steel wool being lit, and Danny drops the last foot to the ground silently. In his other hand lies his thermos, but filled with plain ectoplasm — lazarus water. "I have your food." 

(He brought the thermos for himself — his side was still healing from his last fight with Technus. The ghost impaled him with a broken pipe, and Danny returned the favor by wedging his sword into his chest. Technus had been quite offended by him ruining his favorite coat.)

Sam jumps a foot into the air, and her hand slams across her mouth to muffle the shriek she lets out as she whirls around. "Danny!" She hisses, her voice rising in pitch, and her eyes narrow at him into a glare. "Freaking-- Tucker's right, we seriously need to put a bell on you."

"You have been saying that for years," Danny grins, sharp-toothed and jack-knifed, and passes the container over to her. "And yet I've yet to see any kind of bell." He was going to start getting disappointed at this rate.

As Sam takes the container, Danny hops up onto the railing and looks around. He hadn't seen any of Father's other children lurking around the building before he revealed himself, but that doesn't mean they aren't there. He wasn't going to fool himself into thinking that their stealth skills were poor.

He wasn't that arrogant.

...Anymore.

"Oh you will." Sam threatens, unzipping the container and grabbing the takeout bag. "I'll get you a collar and everything, we can start calling you Catwoman." When she pulls out her fries, Danny snaps forward and steals one from the box, ignoring her indignant yell as he pops it into his mouth.

"I spent my own money on these fries, Sam." He sniffs, leaning away from her with a stifled huff of laughter as she swats at him. "So they are technically my fries. And also, Catwoman would be a poor thief if she wore a bell."

Sam grumbles at him, and takes a bite out of a handful of fries. "I'll venmo you money." She says past a mouthful of food, Danny would have been disgusted in the past, when he was still new. But he's gotten used to this... normality. So he makes no reaction to it. "How does three hundred bucks sound?"

Danny immediately frowns.

"Did you have a fight with your parents?" He asks, eyes glancing to the doors. Doors that are covered heavily by curtains and blurred heavily, decadent music passing through in muffled sounds. He shifts himself away from the light. "You only spend that much money when they've pissed you off."

Sam's chewing stops, and her annoyed expression falters into one Danny knows well -- hurt, furrowed brows, a small frown, disappointment -- and she turns her head away from him. She swallows. "Yeah." she says, quiet.

Oh.

Danny knows that tone too.

Guilt settles like a rock in his chest. He leans forward, "Was it about me again?" He wasn't blind to the disdain Sam's parents had for him, far from it. This wasn't the first time Sam had gotten into a fight with them over her friendship with him and Tucker. But especially him. He unsettled people, even after years of observing his age-mates and trying to mimic their behavior, and anyone who knew him in middle school knew it was an act.  

Sam's silence gives him all the confirmation he needs, and the guilt heavies itself with the weight of the sky. Danny's never much cared about others' opinions of him -- he is (was?) an Al Ghul, they never heed to mind what the weight of a simpleton's thoughts.

But.. he cares a little a lot when it hurts his friends like this. He presses his lips together into a thin line, and forces the words out through his teeth. It sounds robotic. Al Ghul's do not apologize. "I... am sorry." But this one does. It doesn’t come easy. 

Sam sighs through her nose, and turns to roll her eyes at him. "Don't apologize on their behalf when you won't even apologize for your own; their assholes." She says, and goes reaching for more fries.

It's a sign, a signal. A silent word for the conversation to move on, to change. A distraction. Danny grasps it with both hands, and makes an offended noise in the back of his throat. And like he has learned, puts a hand to his chest like a scandalized American southern lady. "I apologize! I apologize plenty."

She snorts. "Only when you think it matters." And pokes him in the ribs sharply with her fry. He withholds a wince and snatches it out of her hands. "You're about as unapologetic as they come, Danny J. Fenton. I've seen you look more sincere when you're trying to drive your sword between Vlad's ribs."

"Stabbing Masters is a very important task for me, Sam." Danny says in only partially faux-seriousness. Masters has yet to realize that Danny had no interest in becoming his son, but he had to (reluctantly) admire his persistence. "Of course I will apply myself to it as best as I can."

He grins triumphantly when Sam laughs, and she reaches over to shove him square in the chest. He barks out a laugh of his own as he grips onto the balcony railing and catches himself at an angle.

"Quit with your method actor talk," Sam retorts, grinning sharply while Danny twists himself back up elegantly. "I know you can talk like a normal person, I've literally seen you do it."

Danny sniffs, and snatches more fries from the carton as revenge. "I'm not entirely sure what you mean, Miss Sam." He says, grin-twisting when Sam rolls her eyes. "My speech has always been this way. This 'normal' you speak of, I do not know it."

She waves her hand dismissively at him. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. But if you keep talking like that, I'm pushing you off the balcony."

"Such violence, Sam."

He gets a laugh again, full of disbelief without any of the annoyance. "I'm gonna be the one that stabs you, oh my god. Pot meet kettle." She looks at him again, smiling.

Danny smiles back, and with a flick of his wrist pulls out a kunai from his sleeve. It was one of the few weapons Mother was able to pass on to him whenever she made her scarce visits. He cherishes it well, along with anything else she was capable of giving him. 

He holds the handle out to her, and watches her face shift from disbelief to shock, then back to disbelief. "Then you're gonna need a weapon to do that." 

"Of course you have a pointy object on you." She mutters, and takes the kunai and puts it in her purse. Danny makes a pleased hum, it resonates low in his core, and drops his hand. "When do you not have a pointy object on you?"

As if to make her point, Danny's hands twist near his side, and he holds his palms up to her, revealing the shobo he had also hidden on him. He gives her a shit-eating grin. "Never." He lowers his hand, and pockets the small weapon once again. 

Sam huffs, "Of course," she repeats, "thanks. I was gonna bring a knife but..."

Danny finishes the sentence for her, kicking his feet idly and knowingly. "The security at the door?" He'd seen them on his flight over the building. It wouldn't do much in the face of the Rogues, but at least they were good at keeping appearances and keeping out the smaller threats.

He rolls his eyes and turns his head away, looking up to the ugly, smog-covered skies. There was no bat signal in the air, and while that was a good thing, Danny almost wished there was. He wanted to see it. "I saw, and I would’ve called Father foolish if he hadn’t hired help. He attracts trouble almost as badly as I do."

"Maybe it's hereditary," Sam jokes, laughing under her breath. With her fries finished, she started on her veggie burger. "At least your dad isn't a vigilante like you are."

Danny smiles wryly. It felt nice to be able to talk more freely about this. That he didn't have to hide the fact that his father was Bruce Wayne, now that Sam knew it from her own accord. Maybe he could have conversations like these more often. Even if it was limited to Bruce Wayne only.

(Even if it felt a little terrifying to know that his father was so close by, close enough that Danny could reach out and touch him. To speak to him. But how would he explain that? And with an audience?)

(He’s wanted to see him since he was a kid, and he still does. It clings onto him like a cough that doesn’t go away after the cold already has, and while it has faded over the years, it clings. His mother’s words still ring in his ears however; it’s not safe. It’s not safe.)

(And isn’t that why he faked his death in the first place? So that his little brother would be safe? Why he gave up the heirship, his home, his Mother, Damian, and his chance to meet his Father? Going to see Father, even now, would be throwing that all away. He has to stay away.)

(Why is Damian with Father if staying with Father was unsafe?) 

He just needed to tell Tucker. Danny wouldn’t keep him out of the loop, he was just as much as his friend as Sam was. His eyes draw towards the door, where the golden glow of lights was still pouring through, where music was playing loudly. "Yeah, fortunately." 

They fall into a comfortable silence after that, and Danny finally cracks open his thermos. The pipe Technus impaled him with was covered in a goo that Danny didn’t recognize, but whatever it was, his injury was taking its time healing. The ectoplasm was speeding it up. 

He isn’t sure what the difference between the ectoplasm that Drs. Fenton collected and Grandfather’s Lazarus pools is, but there’s a difference. He swirls the thermos slowly, watching as the ectoplasm inside twists into a small whirlpool sluggishly. 

When left alone, it thickens into a consistency similar to egg whites, or perhaps a thick smoothie, but reverts back into a water-like substance when moved and swirled. It was strange; unexplainable. He can understand, to an extent, why the Drs. Fenton are so obsessed with studying it and the dimension it comes from. 

Sam watches him idly as he brings the thermos to his lips and drinks from it. The effect is instantaneous, a sense of relief washing over Danny as if someone had put a soothing balm onto an injury. It buzzes down to his fingertips, and when he lowers the thermos, he licks his lips and watches the tips of his fingers burn green like frostbite. 

“Your hair turned white again.” Sam comments, her hand reaching out and touching the hair on the nape of his neck. While it’s not the first time Sam’s touched his hair, it still makes him tense up with her hand so close to his throat. Instinct. dan

He ignores the urge to bat her hand away, humming thoughtfully. “I’ve noticed it does that.” He says, pulling down his bangs to see if they’ve also turned white. No, still black. He lets go. “Let me guess; my eyes are green too?” He lifts the thermos again and peers into the chrome casing. 

Sam nods, “Yep, but it’s only the, uh.” She makes a circle around her eyes with her finger. “The iris part. Everything else is fine.” 

Danny can see that. The faint reflection on the chrome casts back an intense green. He takes another sip. It chills the back of his teeth, and he can feel his canines warp and sharpen. He runs his tongue over them, and swallows. 

Sam is still watching him, her fingers drumming against the balcony railing. “What’s it taste like?” 

“Carbonated.” He says dryly, before taking a large swig. He couldn’t name a specific flavor if he tried, it changed every time he took a sip. The only thing that stayed consistent was that it tasted carbonated. And slightly sweet. When he pulls the thermos away, Danny twists his body towards her and offers it out, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Want to try?” 

Her reaction is immediate. Sam’s nose scrunches up and her mouth twists into a smile, and she makes a huffing-laugh sound. “No, thank you.” She pushes it away lightly with her fingers, “I don’t know how to explain to my parents why my hair is white.” 

Right. Danny pulls the thermos away and puts it down beside him, straining his eyes to see if the rest of his hair has changed colors. Even just his first sip would take half an hour to fade back to its normal black, and he was a halfa. He had no idea how long it’d take to fade on Sam, who was human. 

There’s movement from the corner of his eye, and Danny snaps his head towards the source. There’s a figure, small, a boy, trying to hide behind one of the curtains at the door. His form just barely peeking out from the angle Danny was sitting at. He wouldn’t have seen him if the boy hadn’t moved. 

His fingers curl tightly into the railing, and he breathes in sharp. Sam’s smile crumbles away and she turns to see what he’s looking at. “I should go.” He says, and reaches for his thermos. “There’s someone spying on us. Don’t say anything, just look at me.” 

Sam’s expression warps, twists. Her eyes widen, her jaw starts to drop before fixing itself into place, and her shoulders curl up and tense. She forces it all to smooth over, and she leans casually against the railing. There’s a tick in her jaw. “I see.” Her voice comes through teeth. “Do you think they saw you?”

“I am not sure.” Danny says. He keeps an eye on the figure as he twists himself over and grabs the Nasty Burger bag and the container. He tries not to look like he’s rushing. He is. How long has that boy been there? How much did he see? Did he hear anything? 

“Father, fortunately, has privacy films on the glass. Nobody should have seen me unless they’re specifically trying to peep through the door.” He says. The boy seems to realize that Danny was starting to leave. And, his heart beginning to sink, instead of leaving, moves to grab the door handle instead.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

Danny’s breath catches in his throat, he’s hoping that isn’t who he think it is. But how else would he have not noticed an eavesdropper on their conversation unless it was someone who was capable of bypassing those skills? He told himself that he wouldn’t fool himself into thinking that his siblings’ had poor stealth. He got distracted. 

Five years, five years. He refuses to let that go down the drain. He zips up the container and throws his legs over the other side of the railing, his back facing the door. He hears the doorknob click, and without a word to Sam, slips off down the side and down to the ground below.

Just in time. The once muffled music now sounds blaring as the door presumably is thrown open and the pull of invisibility washes over him like a second skin. He doesn't stay to see who it is.

[bulbabutt]

i think its weird that arcee is like. a core member of transformers groups now, cuz it makes her stick out like a sore thumb being the token girl when at the time she wasnt exactly supposed to be? she was part of the second generation of characters (even though I know the movie was being made first)

like it seems like modern stuff tries to do this with her

which just shows off how much that design doesnt fit and comes off like it was made to be "i am THE girl. you need no more girls we have made the one girl”

but when she was actually designed to match the movie crew, a bunch of more futuristic (the far off year of 2005) cybertronian vehicle transformers with her rounded shapes and pastel colours and she isnt even the only pink one because hot rod is also pink, albeit a much darker pink

(leaving ultra magnus out cuz he was designed to be a brick holding optimus doesnt count)

the point like yeah shes still the only girl but its less egregious when you look at what she was actually supposed to match. i dont think shes designed perfectly but i think its weird that because shes the most recognizable girl transformer she has to be pulled away from her crew and forced into a group she doesnt share the design philosophy of (let alone for her character its sad like... are those not her friends? she’s not allowed to hang out with her own friends anymore cuz she’s the only girl who’s marketable? sad)

it’s extra weird when you realize there’s this crew who were the original girl transformers shown on screen

they’re not perfect either but I like that they have the same busy more squared off shapes and more strong colours, and I just think if they got added in arcees place you could have a less skewed view gender binary for the robots

there’s also the part where it would be cool to have more than one girl in a group, but again arcee with her iconic leia space buns head fits in aesthetically better with the movie crew

[lotus-pear]

do you ever think about how in the day i picked up dazai side b dazai had to lie emotionless and soulless—like a corpse, almost—beside the man that gently brought him in, nursed his injuries, held him while he was in pain? he had to keep those suffocating bandages around his entire face, lest this man gain some sort of recognition for the little boy he saved. he had to lay there curled in the fetal position, bleeding and in pain, perhaps thinking about how, in another life, this man cooked for him, tried to build up his strength. read to him to pass the time while he curled up against him like a child listening to a bedtime story. played cards with him. saw through the heartless mafioso. the ruthless killer. and instead saw a boy.

imagine knowing this man, the man who saved you in more ways than one, was going to die one day all because he knew you. because he reached his hand into the darkness and plaintively, like a small child wanting a parent's touch, you grasped back desperately. imagine thinking all of that while that man is just a stone's throw away, making coffee in the next room just like he used to for you in another life. the scent, although you've never been here before, is reminiscent of home. and the tune he's humming? it's the silent melody that plays through your mind seven years later, for the last time as you fall backward off the building with your arms out like an embrace. but, hey. that man is alive. he's happy, although he never knew you. you can die with no regrets.

[skullsandcorals]

Wanted to redraw this with my version of the book characters💃✨

(click for better quality if you're on the mobile app. do not repost.)

[zukkaoru]

everyone talking about this with dazai…. guys i think i know who chuuya is REALLY talking about here

[wonder-worker]

Wild how we know that Elizabeth Woodville was officially appointed to royal councils in her own right during her husband’s reign and fortified the Tower of London in preparation of a siege while 8-months pregnant and had forces gathering at Westminster “in the queen’s name” in 1483 – only for NONE of these things to be even included, let alone explored, in the vast majority of scholarship and historical novels involving her.

[fennthetalkingdog]

Dang, being nonhuman really is just like being trans, where I look back at my life and go, "Ohhhhhhhh, so THAT'S where it came from." It's easy for me to fall into the habit of thinking, "Well I just found this new label but I don't want it to infiltrate my whole life." But... it already has. All those moments pretending to be a cat on the playground, making fake "dog packs" with my friends, wrestling with my dog and laying next to her as if I was just another pup, attaching to my dog and cat stuffed animals, making dog-like noises to supplement my words, pretending I had (and still have) a tail to wag when I wanted, shaking out my "fur" and huffing just because I "liked mimicking my dog"—those were all my nonhumanity shining through. Me identifying with the nonhuman/therian label isn't an outliner, it's just the trend.

[diyasgarden]

Idk if anyone's asked already, but the types of movies or music they're into? Like genres

omfg annie this has been sitting in my drafts for so long for no reason BUT HERE WE GO!!!!

i wrote a bit about movies here, but let's talk about music now :)

Art is the type of guy to turn on the radio and just let whatever is playing play. I bet if he puts on a certain CD in 2006, Patrick is the one who burnt it. As an adult, Tashi has curated a very specific exercise playlist for him. He may have not made it, but he loves all the songs in it. If you introduce him to a new song and he likes it, well he'll add that into his rotation too. Genre is not a big thing for him. If he likes a song, he likes it. His liked songs on Spotify are probably all over the place. Also, I stand by my musical loving Art head canon, so obviously he is a listening to a lot of songs from musicals too. That boy loves musicals throughout his life and that is basically the only thing he himself will choose to listen to. And even that he got from his grandmother. His musical taste is truly an amalgamation of all the people he loves.

Tashi canonically loves artists like Beyoncé and Outkast in the 2006/2007 era, but I can also see her enjoying artists like Fiona Apple, Amy Winehouse, and PJ Harvey. She probably grew up on artists like Nina Simone and Billie Holiday, so she does like jazz. In 2019, I think she'd stll more or less have the same music taste, but would also start listening to artists like FKA Twigs and Rina Sawayama. She is unique and always ahead of the game, so it makes sense to me that she'd like a bit more alternative sounds.

I can't really explain why, but Patrick's music taste is the hardest for me to define. I can see him liking the rap and hip-hop of the 90s and 2000s, but also really enjoying the rock music of the 70s and the 90s. I think his music taste is all over the place too, but he doesn't necessarily listen to all types of music all the time. He jumps from genre to genre but sticks there for sometime. Those genres I mentioned earlier are what I see most for him, but he definitely has some guilty pleasure artists which is mostly modern pop music. I also think that growing up Patrick had to take piano lessons, so he is well acquainted with classical music. It's not something he listens to often, but every once in a while you may be out with him, he hears some piece, and is able to go "oh that's Wagner."

[ace-trainer-risu]

look the thing about john gaius is that he is of course a Bad Man who has done bad things like slaughter cows, destroy the earth in nuclear armeggedon, attempt genocide, and live stream. but at the end of the day he is just a funny little guy who says things like "what would I know, I'm only god," and I simply cannot hate him. I mean should we put him in acid jail? Yes. absolutely. acid jail for god for ten thousand years. but I think they should let him out sometimes to say funny little things too. like a court jester, but god and covered in acid.

[moongothic]

You know. If Crocodad Real. How would Luffy even react if he found out. Like really, how the fuck would he feel about it.

'Cause like how I went over in this post (briefly at the end), we don't even know how Luffy feels about Crocodile as he is right now, so can you imagine how that bombshell would impact things

Like my running theory is that Luffy still hates Crocodile but maybe not quite as much as pre-Impel Down since he kiiinda owes him etc

And Luffy does not seem to give a shit about blood connections, at least not that much. Like don't get me wrong, Luffy's family are the people who were there for him when he was a child, those are the people he cares about and his bio-parents don't really matter. But also, honestly, I think the reason Luffy doesn't give a shit about who his parents are is because he doesn't know them. Luffy cares about people who he knows and likes, and while he doesn't give a shit about Dragon right now, it's arguably because he simply just doesn't know him. If the two actually get to meet and know each other, like if Luffy takes a liking Dragon, he'll probably accept Dragon as his dad and as his family. But on his own terms. It's up to Luffy to decide

And that's why like. How would Luffy react to finding out he has another dad and that one is fucking Crocodile. Because he already hates the man. It would not be happy news for him I'm sure

The other thing is that normally Luffy does not give a flying fuck about people's sad backstories. He didn't care to hear what happened to Nami and her village for example, because what really mattered was that there was a person he cared about who was deeply hurt and in danger and he wanted to help said person. And that's where I'm so torn. Because on one hand, it would be perfectly on-brand for Luffy to not give a shit of Crocodile had a sob story to tell. But also, I could imagine Luffy being so fucking confused over the news that he'd want to hear the truth of like, who what where how why, in detail. So that, you know, he could make his own decision and figure out if he wants to considder Crocodile is other dad or disown him.

Like, both feel like things Luffy would do

So really, would the real deciding factor might be just... the circumstances where Luffy finds out???

God knows, I can not imagine Crocodile himself telling Luffy anything ever. The kid already hates him, he knows it, so he'd probably think it'd be for the best if Luffy never found out

So how else could Luffy find out then?

As far as we know, the only other person who could confirm it would be Dragon himself, and considdering how he probably feels about his ex (see: Alabasta Coup Attempt), I can't imagine him wanting to talk about Crocodile to Luffy in lenght or in a positive light. Like I can't imagine Dragon wanting to tell Luffy at all is the point, not unless he wanted to like apologize to Luffy because it is arguably his fault Luffy and Crocodile fought in Alabasta to near-death to begin with. (Sidenote since we don't know how the break-up happened to begin with, it's totally possible Crocodile could've asked Dragon to never let their kid find out what happened to his "mom")

And now, this is where I'm gonna go completely off the rails, but. As I was wondering if there was any other way Luffy could find out...

S-Croc is made with Crocodile's DNA.

(And actually before I even go into S-Croc, super quick sidenote: If Kuma can extract memories out of people and allow other people to literally see them... Like I can't tell if Kuma's memories got absorbed by Bonney when she looked into them or if Kuma's Memory Bubble is still on Egghead, but if viewing the memories isn't the same as having them inserted into a vessel permanently... Like if Kuma isn't turbo-dead, could there be a scenario where we have Kuma (or S-Bear) yeet out Croc's memories and have Luffy just look into them? Because god knows Crocodile might just refuse to speak about it and that could be the only way to get The Whole Truth if Dragon doesn't want to talk about it either?) (Of course, Crocodile would understand just How Persistent Luffy is so if Luffy just kept on annoying him about it, Crocodile could maybe give up eventually because he knows he can't get Luffy to piss off until he spills the beans)

So currently the Strawhat's plan is for them to go and escort the Vegapunks to Elbaf (if nothing goes funny after the flashback is over, which remains to be seen)

2. There is the mystery of what sex S-Croc is going to be, because there is a possibility that if Crocodile is trans then his Seraphim could be pre-T (though this entirely depends on whether or not Ivankov's HRT changes even the DNA of person. Since it's MAGIC HRT I would prefer it to, not gonna lie, and I would not appreciate any "you may look different but your DNA will tell the truth!" rhetoric in the story but I may be asking too much from Oda)

3. And there's also the mystery of what Devil Fruit ability S-Croc might have, since all the Seraphim have been given Fruit powers, and we know Vegapunk can't replicate Crocodile's Sand Logia.

All things considdered, I think the actual, most likely known ability S-Croc might end up with would be like, Mr 3's wax powers (hilariously), mainly because I could imagine it being flexible enough to work in Crocodile's fighting style, so it'd be the easiest for S-Croc to adapt to (like if you can make anything from wax, then why not sharp blades to fling at people) (Also we know Vegapunk would have access to this power since Mr 3 was in Impel Down, when they also got Daz' powers)

But also I had joked before how it'd be funny if S-Croc was a Crocodile Zoan for no reason. Like it'd be fitting since Crocodile was already the Only Logia of the OG Shichibukai, so making his Seraphim the Only Zoan would be funny as hell (if it's even possible, which we can't say if it will/won't be). Additionally, making him a Crocodile Zoan would be hysterically on-the-nose.

(Sidenote: If there was a crocodile Zoan Fruit, what sub-category do you think it'd fall into? Like would it be Ryu Ryu like all the dinosaur-themed Zoans are, or maybe even a different model of Uo Uo (same as Kaidou)? Since "wani" could be considdered a different type of serpent-dragon, and if Vegapunk was researching how to recreate Kaidou's fruit, it's plausible he might've accidentally recreated some other related-fruit in the process or afterwards?? (Also since Kaidou's Uo Uo is a specific model (Seiryu) it would make sense if there was another Uo Uo model Fruit, and this could be an excelent opportunity to use it))

The thing about Zoans though is that, as it's been brought up once or twice before, Zoan fruits can kind of have a "mind of their own" and influence the user in unexpected ways.

And as all we Crocodad Truthers know.

Crocodiles are protective of their babies.

ALSO: The Seraphim do have enough personal will-power that they may (slightly) disobey orders they've been given. Case-and-point, S-Snake undoing the Petrification on the Strawhats after Luffy asked her to, since S-Snake is fond of Luffy just like Hancock is

Sidenote, it was kind of made a point how Vegapunk considdered his artificial replica of Kaidou's dragon fruit a compete failure simply because instead of a blue dragon, the user would turn into a pink one instead. So if Vegapunk tried to make a Seraphim of Crocodile, knowing full-well he couldn't even give the Seraphim the same ability as the OG, and then the Seraphim turns out the wrong sex for no reason?? I could see him being confused as hell and considder S-Croc "a failed Seraphim"

So really, all we'd really need to happen would be for the Strawhats to somehow encounter the remaining three Seraphim while escorting the Vegapunks to Elbaf. Mind you, IDK how that could even happen since as far as we know they've been deployed the Emptee Bluffs

And then just have S-Croc either disobey orders to hunt Luffy or even even have him be protective of Luffy (following that Zoan Instinct, one even he can't explain, it's just Instinct). Have Sanji be like "hey why the fuck is this one a girl, isn't it supposed to be Crocodile", followed by Vegapunk explaining this Seraphim was a failure for reasons even he can't understand

Then have Jinbei remember the conversation Crocodile and Ivankov had at Impel Down (suspicious considdering Ivankov's abilities and this "failed Seraphim"), and maybe if Crocodile had any involvement with the Revolutionaries and Robin was suspicious of him she could even bring that up

Along with any other minor details that may be bothering the crew about the whole deal

And so if the Strawhats and Vegapunk just put all their braincells together and rubbed them real hard, they could maybe come to a hypothesis as to why S-Croc is a "failure" and protective of Luffy, and maybe even a potential explanation as to why The Real Crocodile was protective of Luffy in Marineford for no fucking reason

And maybe, just maybe, Vegapunk could confirm that suspicion with a DNA test. All he needs to do is check Luffy's and compare it to Crocodile's.

Not sure Luffy would want to do the DNA test, like knowing Luffy he might prefer to just ask Crocodile in person if they ever ran to each other again

But boy, if he somehow did agree to a DNA test, and there was a match... oh boy

But again. This entire scenario is BEYOND off-the-rails. Technically plausible! But honestly if Luffy is ever gonna find out (assuming Crocodad Real) then it's gonna be from Dragon

I just wanted to get the theoretical scenario out of my system okay, I had to get the brainworms out of my brain

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Jianzhu, losing his fucking mind: For the past 7ish years we've tried the Earth Kingdom way of finding the Avatar, but we keep getting sent all over the damn place! Even the poles! Wtf is going on. Me, knowing Kyoshi's ass was being yeeted around on a flying bison during that time: