#can you out smoke him

[whuzzat]

[smrtnik07]

shirooooooo....

[hornyverymuch]

I love how you can see exactly when his hyperfixation started lmao

[ghostbeam]

I have the silliest most self indulgent thought about Dabi who owns the music store u work next door to and his shitty band practices there and u can always hear them play bc u share a wall and how after he meets u and finds out ur fav song u hear him play it all the time

[puppetmaster13u]

Halfa Jason Design

Specifically in thoughts to This but honestly might use it for other things too

[science-lings]

i don't care about canon, this is for you specifically.

[ratatatastic]

Vanha Kauppahalli date: en full, a 2 minute 50 second masterpiece...

Primetime Panthers | 11.6.24 (x)

[varpusvaras]

There seem to be many curses the universe has cast upon Willis Todd.

Being always just a little too late is apparently one of them.

A little too late to give Catherine more time. A little too late to be a better dad to Jason.

A little too late to save Jason.

His side still burns in agony with every movement he makes, slowing him down, no matter how hard he tries to push through it. He is losing precious seconds. Precious seconds that he can't loose. He needs them. He needs them to be in time.

He needs them to not be too late for the second time.

Damn the Bat, damn the Joker, damn the both of them. Willis had had the shot, he had been so close, but of course, the Bat had just managed to get there in time to save the monster once again. Not that Willis is even surprised by it, anymore. Like calls to like, after all. Willis just wishes that Jason hadn't needed to get tangled into that whole mess.

He wouldn't have, if it wasn't for the Bat. Not that Willis could blame anyone else but himself for it. If he had been there, the Bat wouldn't have gotten his hands on Jason.

He should've started on the Bat. Put out the power that insists on keeping the flame burning.

It's too late for it.

Willis feels the explosion a moment before he hears it. It's a rumble through the air and then the rush of noise arrives on its tail, and then the fire and smoke is rising as a tower against the darkened sky.

He's never going to make it in time.

Still, he keeps going.

Still, he counts every second in his head, every strangled breath he takes as he pushes himself towards the end of the timeline.

When Willis arrives there, there's nothing but destruction left.

He keeps going, still.

He doesn't know why he keeps going, anymore. He's never going to be in time, after all, since he is Willis Todd, and he is always a little too late.

Still he keeps going.

He remembers the time the power had went out from the apartment. There had been a flash of a lightning, a loud bang as the powerline had been cut, and then just darkness all around.

Jason had been scared of the dark, back then, and he had woken up at the noise and found himself all alone in the darkness, and by the time Willis had made his way to the bedroom and scooped him up, he had been crying his little heart out. The only thing keeping him calm had been Willis clinging to him just as hard as he had been clinging to Willis, with his tiny fingers gripping onto the front of Willis' shirt with the strength of a giant.

He's not sure why he remembers it right now.

Perhaps to remind himself that he had once had everything.

It doesn't leave him alone. He keeps hearing Jason cry, crying out for him, crying out for his dad to save him, save him from the scary thing all around him, and he wonders who Jason had called out for during his last moments.

If he had screamed dad, had it been him he had called for anymore?

Willis looks around. There is nothing but destruction around him.

"Jason?" He calls.

He keeps hearing his son's cries.

"Jason!" He cries, he cries, he cries, right to Willis' ear and inside his head and inside his heart where Jason still lives, all this time and always will.

Cries for his dad who is never there and when he is, it's always too late.

He hears something.

Later he cannot tell if he actually did hear something then, but it had been real at that moment, and it had been enough.

Enough for Willis to run towards it, every pain in his body forgotten, and drop on to the smoldering ground and put his hands into the smoking ruins and start digging.

He doesn't know what keeps giving him the strength to continue. It is something almost primal, something that comes right from his core. He thinks it's desperation.

He thinks it's love.

The gloves on his suit keep the heat away as he pushes his hands deeper into the destruction. He would've done so even with his hands bare.

He digs and digs, deeper and deeper, like he is digging into a grave, hoping that the body in the coffin would miraculously still be breathing like in all of his dreams and nightmares.

He digs and digs, deeper and deeper into the destruction, until he finds Jason.

Jason isn't crying when Willis finds him.

He is completely silent, covered in smoke and dust blood, laying still like bodies lay in their graves.

Willis should leave him be. It is unbecoming to disturb the dead.

He can't. Jason doesn't belong here, buried amongst all the destruction. No, Jason belongs somewhere soft and beautiful, like he has always deserved to belong.

Willis is his father. It is his duty to bring him there.

Jason is no longer the newborn, the baby, the small child he had been the last time Willis had held him. He is a man now, all things considered.

None of those things matter. It is all the same, as Willis pulls Jason into his arms.

There he is.

His Jason. His boy. His little prince.

Willis would've done anything to get to hold him again, but now that he is here, he wonders if his wishes are curses, too.

There is so much dust and blood on Jason's face. Willis brushes it away. His hand leaves streaks on Jason's skin, the imprints of the texture of his glove evident in the marks. That's not right. He pulls his glove from his hand and tries again. His hand is covered in dust and blood now. That's better. Willis should be the one covered in it, after all, not Jason.

There is smoke in the air. Willis finds that he doesn't care, anymore. He removes his mask and and buries his face in Jason's hair. It smells like smoke and dust and blood. He doesn't care. He holds Jason close and he cries.

He still remembers Jason drawing his first breath. It had been a raspy little thing, followed by another, louder, stronger one.

He remembers it when Jason draws in a breath. A raspy, little thing. Then there is another, louder, stronger one.

Willis stops breathing.

Another breath. He can feel Jason shifting in his arms with it. Another one. Willis doesn't dare to move, to look, to do anything, so the spell doesn't break and plummet him back to the grim reality.

Another breath. Willis can't take it anymore. He has to see.

Jason's eyes are not open, but he is breathing. Small, raspy breaths, that all seem to be a struggle for him. There is new, fresh, crinsom blood pouring out on top of the old blood and dust.

Willis needs to-

He needs to get Jason out of here.

"C'mon." He pulls Jason even closer in order to climb to his feet and not lose his hold on him. "Let's go, Jase."

He steps over the destruction around them, hurries through the smoke still rising in the air.

There are fingers grasping onto the front of his suit.

"D-a..a." Jason is barely able to get the sound out. His fingers are only just able to hold on to Willis. "D..aa..d..."

"I'm here." He holds onto Jason hard enough for both of them. "I'm here. Let's go home."

He doesn't have a home, anymore, but it doesn't matter. He might not have a team anymore, either, but it matters even less.

He has Jason.

That's all that matters.

[bitedownme]

May I... introduce you to Lord Goran? >:D

"This, Y/N, is Lord Goran"

[starry-bi-sky]

mmmm musical cultivator shen yuan again. Feng Xuanlu, the Wind Song. He has this well-loved wooden pipe he inherited from is adoptive father that he uses on occasion. When the traveling day gets slow and he doesn't feel like singing, when he's stressed, when night falls and he's sitting around a fire with his troupe and they've all had a little bit to drink.

His hair is long and black, always tied up into a ponytail or a braid of some sort. When he's in camp he loosens it up until its splayed messily over his shoulder. He has crows feet around his eyes that scrunch up when he smiles. His eyes are bamboo green and his hands are rough and callused from years of plucking strings and work. He has scars on his back that he won't explain the origins of.

His voice is low and warm like a fire, it gets raspy in the mornings or when he's been humming or singing for too long. He speaks like there's sunshine dripping off his tongue. He speaks soft, he speaks and his voice takes up the entire room. He's spent over a decade hearing his praises getting sung and he still gets shy over it sometimes.

Whenever he goes into town he has to have at least three other musicians with him at all times -- not his decision of course, but the unanimous choice of his companions. Shen Yuan gathers admirers everywhere he goes, and his companions have long since learned that their dear friend and leader is completely unaware of it. So they have to beat off these suitors with sticks.

[triglycercule]

so the dust smokes headcanon is really popular!!! i have an addition to it :33 cigarette smoke CLINGS to your body for a loooong loooong time,,,,, i don't know if monster dust has a smell but if it does maybe the cigarette smoke from his cigarettes could be used to cover up that smell so he doesn't have to deal with the scent of death all the time and yk,,,, feel the guilt :33

[nappingmoon]

suguru x reader - nsfw

wc: 3.6k

suguru coming to see you after he defected from jujutsu tech. 🎀

a/n: i actually forgot that jjk is highschool and not college before writing this so with the power bestowed upon me on tumblr dot com i declare that this is an au where everything is the same except suguru defects when he's like 22 and not 17 okay thank you stay blessed

you're on the porch of your little apartment-- a luxury in this market. between your fingers hangs a little cigarette, a bad habit that you picked up after one too many nights spent in shoko's presence. regardless, the headrush that each drag brings is a welcome feeling. you hadn't seen suguru since before he defected, and he hadn't deigned to reach out. in the weeks leading up to the incident -a detached term, as if calling it 'the massacre' would be too real of a reminder- you had spent nearly every night with him. you were often sent on separate missions during the day and on the occasion that you did see one another in public, not much more than a simple greeting or casual chat was exchanged between the two of you.

at night, however, he always found a way into your sheets. before the fateful mission, what you had was fun. it was sexy and sneaky and exciting and your heart always raced at the thought of what he was going to surprise you with that night. after the mission, the moments turned slower, needier, more intimate. suguru started talking less, instead craving your moans and becoming more insistent on ensuring your pleasure. he wouldn't let you touch him as much, and he grew increasingly frustrated when you would try to push his head away from between your thighs before he made you cum at least twice. his mannerisms became less cocky and assured and turned frantic and anxious, like an animal who just barely managed to escape a predator and still can't figure out if he's safe or not. you tried to work your way in to his brain, his heart, but he only opened up in vague sentences or deflected to a different topic. teetering the line between concerned questioning and prying was difficult and you could tell that if you overstepped, it was likely that he'd withdraw completely. when you heard the news, heard about the incident, your heart dropped, but you can't say you were completely surprised. there's just been radio silence then.

when you feel a presence approach from behind you, you don't jump. there's no need. you know who it is and you've been expecting him. in honest, it took him longer to seek you out than you thought it would. suguru's form comes into your field of vision, body obscuring most of your view of the right side of the street. neither of you speak as he plucks the cigarette from your fingers. pinched between his forefinger and thumb, suguru brings the butt to his lips. you watch as he inhales, the burning red end of the cig sparkling as it works its way up towards his fingers. his lungs expand and it is enough to finish what you had left. he tilts his head up as he releases the smoke, taking a peek at the sky. though the city lights dimmed much of the sky's vibrancy, a few scattered stars still burned bright enough to hold an audience. he's gorgeous.

the last of the smoke is still wisping out of his mouth when he finally speaks, his voice gravelly. "you've got to stop hanging out with shoko. this shit will kill you." you huff an amused exhale and lean your head onto your propped arm, watching as suguru rubs the end of the dying cigarette into your railing and dropping the ashed remnants into your little strawberry themed ashtray.

"a bit late to start worrying about things that could kill me, isn't it, suguru?" you raise your eyebrow and look him up and down. he's skinnier and the bags under his eyes are ever present, but he holds himself a little higher than he has in the past weeks. tormented, but assured of his decisions. he's dressed in casual clothes, likely to keep a low profile and avoid run ins with any sorcerers on his way to you. "I heard you had a run in with satoru the other day, how are you?" what the two of you had was special, sure, but you knew that no one came above satoru in his eyes. they were an inseparable pair, heads and tails, yin and yang. the split can't have been easy at all.

"I made a choice," suguru starts, eyes blankly roaming over your street. he still hasn't looked you in the eyes. "and he made his. that's all there is to it."

you hum, unconvinced but also not willing to put up a fight you clearly had no shot at winning. "and so now you've come to see little old me? are you gonna try to convince me to join the official suguru geto fanclub? become a loyal member and kneel at your feet until the day i die?"

finally turning to you, he scoffs and a small smile graces his lips at your antics. "while you on your knees is one of my favorite sights, I know you. your morals would never let you join me." he says, and the word 'morals' comes out like an insult. even still, at his first words your head fills with images of the past and you adjust your position on the railing, legs crossing lightly. the movement doesn't escape his notice.

"if you didn't come to convince me to join you, then what did you come for? i could turn ya in right now. should do it to if only for the fact that you left without telling me." you turn away from him, annoyance rising at the memory of sitting in your empty room, feeling so heavily the lack of his pretty face and cat-like form splayed on your bed asking questions about your skin care routine and teasing you for the trinkets you still have as remnants of the phases you went through at fifteen.

suguru doesn't answer and instead goes inside, the duck under the door frame a habitual motion. you follow him inside, sliding your glass door closed behind you. he makes his way through your apartment, touching little things as he goes. he adjusts the picture frame that holds the photo of you, the other second years, himself, satoru, and shoko. he avoids looking at haibara's smiling face and continues on into your room.

before following him, you grab him one of his favorite bottled teas from your fridge. you always kept a pack for him, and last week you found yourself unpacking them from your trip to the grocery store before you even realized what you had done.

when you enter your room, you see him sat on the edge of your bed. you come to stand between his spread legs, cold drink in your left hand while your right comes up to trace around his face. you play with the little bang that he always keeps out of his bun. "are slut strands just allowed in your cult or are they mandatory?" you tease.

"ha ha." suguru replies dryly. "give me some of the tea, please." you crack the cap open and extend the drink towards his hand, but instead of receiving it, he grabs your hips. thinking he's just being lazy, you bring the edge to his lips, ready to pour it in for him. his lips stay sealed and he shakes his head. confused, you still for a moment befor- oh. oh. as the realization dawns on your face, he grins and gently nods.

the bastard wants you to spit it in his mouth. it's something that started out a long time ago as a joke and stuck around, you doing it to one another every so often. but now? "you can drink it yourself, dickhead." you say, but he digs his fingers into your hips, and keeps his lips together, the refusal crystal clear. you know you shouldn't-- he is currently a criminal of the highest order. he's killed innocents and shed the blood of those you have risked your life to protect. he is a million times more dangerous than the cigarette he chided you for earlier. and yet. and yet and yet and yet. the pressure of his hands on your hips is so familiar and you have missed it so much. he has filled the space in your apartment that he left behind and just seeing him here once again is making your heart thump. logically, you should run as fast as you can. instead, you bring the rim to your lips, let the cool liquid fill your mouth, and lean over. suguru brings one hand up from your hip, dragging it up your body before coming to rest on your face. you lean into the touch that you missed so much and allow him to bring your face to his, to bring your lips together. you let the tea pass from your lips to his and a bit spills down his chin. even so, he does nothing to stop it, and you aren't even entirely sure he noticed at all because as soon as the tea is done trickling into his mouth, his tongue comes into your mouth to tangle with yours. the hand on your cheek reaches around your head to press you closer into him. he takes the bottle from your hand and reaches down to place it on the floor before standing.

suguru is intoxicating. that is the only way you can describe him. with just a few kisses he has complete power over you. as he leans over to continue making out with you, you tug at his shirt, eager to run your hands across his skin again. you've missed the feeling so much. smiling into your kiss, he reaches down to grab the end of the cloth and bring it over his head, only separating long enough to get the shirt off before returning to you. he reaches down to grab the backs of your thighs and you jump, straddling him as you take his bottom lip between your teeth. you nibble softly, teasingly as you open your eyes to look into his. his pupils are blown and you know yours must be the same. he turns to face the bed, bringing his knee up and working his way up until he can lay you on your pillows. suguru cradles your head as he sets you on the bed, finally separating from you to lean back and get a good look at you. your spit shines on his lips as moonlight filters in through the space where your curtains don't quite close.

your chest rises and falls with vigor, finally getting an adequate air supply, but you itch to be close to him once again. you grab your shirt and rid yourself of it quickly, absentmindedly noting that it was actually one of the shirts he left at your place a while ago. you wore them when you missed him. (not a night passed in a shirt that wasn't his.) his fingers reach for the waistband of your shorts, grabbing the edge of your panties with them and working them down your legs. though standing for 10 seconds and ridding himself of his pants would have been easier, suguru shares your desperation for closeness and bends at the waist, laving at the hollow of your neck while shimmying out of his pants. your hands tug at his hair and run over the muscles of his back not minding the rustle of his body over yours because the weight over you was one you missed so much. when he finally kicks his pants and boxers off, he stays stuck to your chest, leaving a trail of little kisses in his wake. he makes it to your nipple where he presses one sweet kiss to the tip before taking it in his mouth and sucking. he moans at the feeling of your soft flesh in his mouth. you are an exquisite being and he truly worships every fiber of your existence. during the time he spent apart from you, he thought of this moment over and over. he moves over to your other nipple, sucking in marks on the way, making sure you are left with lasting evidence of his love. you gasp at the sting of his bite, looking down at where he laps at a small bead of red from where his teeth broke skin. over his broad shoulders, you can see where he grinds his hips into the bed, mindlessly seeking release while he focuses on his current devotion. your tummy swirls as he makes his way down, leaving little nips and hickies scattered in a pattern not unlike what he saw earlier in the sky. when he finally reaches your mound and presses a first kiss to your clit, you reach down and grab his face.

when suguru looks you in the eyes from his position between your legs, you swear he is only half registering you. he seems almost dazed, eyes glossy and head yearning to drop back down into your heat to give you the head of your life. before he can swat away your hands, however, you speak up, voice thick with need. "feel s'empty sugu." you whine, "need you in me now. it's been so long."

"but baby, need'ta stretch you out. need to make you cum and get you all ready t' take me. neeeed to taste you" he says, still fighting the hands that keep him up.

"i don't need it sugu. m' so wet. i promise. i need you to fill me up, 've missed it so much." this gets him out of his daze, and he begins to crawl back up to you.

"you need me that bad? yeah?" he whispers, hovering over you.

"mmhmm"

"needy girl got all soaked from just having me here, huh? you just need to be fucked this instant? my poor baby. i've neglected you too much." he starts dragging his dick up and down your folds, collecting your slick to make sure that he'll slide in easy enough. your nails grip on to his back, trying to entice him to put it in already. "okay baby, don't worry. i'll give you what you need."

suguru places a kiss to your cheekbone as pushes in. you both inhale at the sensation taking a moment to adjust. he slowly continues lowering himself in, murmuring small praises into your ear as you take all of him in. the stretch brings a twinge of pain, and likely would have been absent all together had suguru been allowed to give you the foreplay he wanted but the sense of love and tranquility that filled you as soon as he was all the way in was the closest thing you could get to heaven on earth. there was nothing in your heart, mind, or soul but love for the man taking over your senses.

sex with suguru varied a lot. nights after bars and parties were filled with giggly sex and lots of foreplay. after high adrenaline missions he was rough and experimental. if a teammate was seriously hurt or there was a casualty, he tended to need to be more dominant, finding solace in being able to control every aspect of your pleasure, from denying you your orgasm all night or overstimulating you and getting you to your peak more times than you could count. sometimes he liked to use toys, to tie you up, to let you tie him up. tonight though, he was tentative. he knew what you wanted and you were clear that you needed him, but the now that he was so close to you, the small, ugly voice of insecurity and shame inside bubbled up. shame for shutting you out, for his sins, for leaving, the list goes on. and so he uses each thrust into you as an apology. he reaches for your hand, sliding his fingers between yours and pressing them into your mattress. his eyes were screwed shut because he wasn't sure that if he looked at your teary eyes he could keep his composure and he needed tonight to be about you, to make you feel good.

he's quieter than normal and you notice it. the turmoil is all too clear to you and you know that he needs you now more than ever. "s- suguru, baby, look at me. please."

he shakes his head in response and your heart quivers. he's still your suguru despite it all. "baby please. look at me. it's okay. i'm okay and you're okay and we are going to make it through this." you place kisses on his nose and cheeks as he eases the tension in his face, peeking at you. the second he gets a good look at you, sweat already starting to stick hair to your forehead and eyes so enamored they almost have hearts in them, he groans and his pace falters for a sec. "you're making me feel so good suguru, you know that? you're so good to me, handsome. i could never stop loving you." you praise. you'd continue, but he dips his mouth to yours, cutting you off. you arch your back, pebbled nipples grazing his chest and he groans into you unlacing your fingers and bringing his hand to pinch your nipples. your moans fill the room. his thrusts get faster and the little plaps of your hips when they meet turn into more forceful smacks.

your praise and the way you feel around him nearly fry suguru's brain. the voices in his head are loud, telling him he's undeserving of you and your love and he whispers his apologies into your skin. he's overwhelmed and he's tearing up but he keeps rolling his hips into yours as if the world would end if he stopped. you try to get his attention by calling his name or clawing a bit at his back but he's in deep. reaching down between you, you swipe at your folds with two fingers, gathering some of your wetness only to reach up and stick them into suguru's mouth. he can't apologize with your digits pressing down on his tongue and you take the moment to reinforce your love. "suguru, listen to me. I love you and you don't have to apologize. you did what you had to do and that's okay. I love you." you pepper kisses between your words, trying your best to get your message through to him. he finally looks you in the eyes again, your voice his saving grace. "hi, baby. you back yet?" you say.

suguru finishes sucking your fingers clean and pulls back. "yeah, thanks for getting me out of there. 'was spiraling a lil bit. sor-" you cut off his apology with fingers to his lips and a roll of your own hips.

"don't apologize. just be here with me." you push at one shoulder with your arms, and suguru understands, grabbing your hips and flipping you over. "'s this okay?" you ask, straddling his hips and beginning to ride him.

"so much better than okay, gorgeous. 's perfect." as you bounce up and down, suguru reaches up to play with your clit and you feel the nerves send shocks up your spine. he starts whispering things like "you are the best thing that has ever happened to me" and "you're so perfect, doll. all mine"

as you near your peak, your legs start to shake and burn. you whine at the at the decrease in friction that comes of your slowing hips and suguru takes this as his moment to pick things back up. with his hands lifting you, he gives himself enough space to prop himself up and get a strong base to thrust into you from below. with your sugu now taking the lead, everything is just more intense. you fold over, trying to kiss him but missing due to the sheer force with which suguru is moving your body. small 'ah's come from your mouth and you feel your toes curl as you are tipped over, a wave of pleasure washing over you. you tighten up and your muscles twitch as suguru continues thrusting, chasing after his release and following just behind you. he pulls your body to his, gripping you in a tight, tight hug as he spills into you. his legs give out from under him and you land together in a little heap of love, sweat, and limbs. his dick slips out of you and you already miss the sensation of being full, of being so close to him. for now though, you take the moment to catch your breath and to let your heart sync up with his. in a little, you two will get up and you will pee and brush your teeth side by side. when you come out, the bed will be clean and you will cuddle with your lover and be soothed into sleep by his slow breaths, grateful that you had at least this moment with him, sure that he'll disappear on you come sunrise.

in the morning, as the sun begins to warm your room, every logical thought is tell him to leave before you wake up. it will be easier to split without seeing your face, and talking in the morning will only create longer term attachment that has no place in the future he is building for himself and his girls. honestly, best case scenario would be you being so angry at him for leaving that you get over him all together. it is so simple!

so when he finds himself in your kitchen, making your eggs how you like them and pouring your cup of coffee in your favorite mug with just the right amount of milk in sugar, he's just as surprised as you are. and when you give him a kiss and sit in his lap and he sees the splotches of reds and purples that decorate your neck, paired with the little bit of drool from sleeping so well, he remembers why he didn't choose the easy route. where things will go from here is uncertain, but the outside world has no place in your apartment-- in his sanctuary. all that matters is your warmth in his arms and your lips on his.

[tomialtooth]

The thing is, Adler would WANT to be the top & Dom which is precisely why you can't let him

[whatwooshkai]

Gimme a number 5! :D

Chase's face is contorted in badly disguised panic as he stands there, finials practically brushing the lights on his back, waiting for instruction.

Charlie tries desperately not to laugh, coughing into his fist. "I am so sorry," he says, voice strained, as Mayor Luskey forces his way out of the car, fuming.

"BURNS!" he snarls, his toupee slightly askew, and he nearly trips over the grappler as he storms up to him. "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!"

"So sorry," Charlie repeats, noticing that Chase has started nervously wringing his hands. "The police bot noticed your car was going above the speed limit and wasn't responding to the flashing lights, so he- uh, the AI, I mean- took the next logical step." He gestures at the scene. "Hence the grappler."

Chase had deployed it without asking, and Charlie hadn't even known what happened until the mayor's car had suddenly stopped and started swerving in front of them, caught in a trap of yellow nylon webbing.

"Well- well- fix it!" Mayor Luskey turns on his poor chauffeur and starts shouting again, and Charlie notices the slight sigh of relief from Chase as the attention is taken off them.

"Police bot," Charlie orders, biting back his smile, "fix this please."

"Yes sir," Chase says, sounding much less confident than usual.

-------------------------------

"I didn't even know you had a grappler," Charlie pipes up as they roll into the firehouse's driveway. "My last patrol car sure didn't."

"It was equipment I had back on Cybertron," Chase explains as the garage door closes behind them, then transforms when Charlie steps out. "I just haven't had a reason to use it until now."

"Well, uh, good to know," Charlie says, patting his hands on his hips. "Just maybe ask first next time?"

"Of course," Chase hums, and his finials flatten against his helm.

"So, do you have any other equipment you're holding out on me?" Charlie continues teasingly, and Chase's finials cant back.

"No," he answers, sounding almost disappointed. "A question better suited for Heatwave. I have not seen him use any of his arsenal."

"Really?" They step on the lift together. Normally Charlie would go back upstairs, but now he's curious. "What kinds of equipment?"

"I'd imagine it's similar." Chase taps his foot against the ground as the lift starts down. "He's got a kit hand."

"What's that?"

"Heatwave!" Chase addresses the fire bot instead, who's up on one of the pillars with the training dummy.

"What?" he calls back, leaning against it.

Chase gestures to Charlie. "He's curious about your equipment."

Heatwave frowns. "...What equipment?"

"Your firefighting equipment. You hand." Chase gestures abstractly.

"Oh." Heatwave jumps down and Chase offers his hand to Charlie, who climbs into it, and he's deposited onto Chase's shoulder for a better view. "Most of it's only accessible in my alt mode, but I got a few things."

He sticks his forearm out and a panel retracts. "Winch," he says, gesturing at it. "Got them on both sides. And my hand's kit." His left hand retracts back into his forearm, and he transforms tools out in rapid succession, including but not limited to a sledgehammer, an axe, a halligan, and a chainsaw. His hand's back in a few moments, and he offers Charlie a shrug. "I don't really have a need for them. I can usually brute force my way through any of the emergencies you guys have."

"True," Charlie hums, "but it's good to know. Thank you."

Heatwave blinks, then nods, turning away and going back to his dummy. Charlie looks to Chase. "Do the others have equipment like that, or, uh, 'kit' hands?"

Chase's finial flicks. "Why don't we go ask?" he says, voice colored with an excited lilt.

Charlie gets the distinct impression he's being included on something important, but he can't even begin to be sure of what. So he just smiles, pats Chase on the cheek, and lets him take him to the others.

[moongothic]

(Frankenstein'd two asks together for the sake of previty)

I've been pretty torn between answering this ask and just doing a deep dive re-analysis post about Marineford as a whole (from Crocodile's perspective) because I feel like rereading it now as a Crocodad Truther, I could probably make a whole lot of new observations and/or read into things differently than I did last time I read it (when I was rereading for the purpose of studying the viability of Crocodad) Like there's so much to say about the whole arc and I'd include this line of thought in there anyways... But also, do I really feel like writing a giant essay like that........

I am going to start this by refering to this mini-essay I wrote like a month ago, about how Crocodile seems to have this attitude of "no crying over spilt milk". What's happened has happened, what's done is done, it's your own fault things turned out the way they did, there's no undoing any of it and you just have to continue on. And I do think that attitude would be key here to understanding Crocodile's actions in Marineford re:Crocodad

(Sidenote because this is not relevant to the rest of the post, but the reason this is about Crocodad and not CrocoUncle etc is because if Crocodile was only loosely related to Luffy it would not have the same kind of impact emotionally (for Crocodile; like there is a difference between a nephew and a son). Additionally a part of Crocodad is that it ties into Crocodile's connection with Ivankov in a really important way. If Crocodile was only loosely related to Luffy, him also being trans would kind of be like a random sidenote without being relevant to the two being family, but suddenly if Crocodile is Luffy's other biological parent, him being trans matters a lot more. Also if he's not Luffy's other dad then we'd be still stuck asking who the fuck birthed Luffy to begin with)

While Sengoku's announcement here would make for a horrific revelation to Crocodile in this situation (a revelation we never see his immidiate reaction to, which continues to be deeply sus), what would it change, really?

The little idiot child who Crocodile had attempted to murder multiple times was his own son. Sure, he might've insantly lost whatever grudge he might've held against Luffy, then what? That feeling would be one-sided, because at this point in the story Luffy hated Crocodile's guts and he knew that too. Luffy has no idea about them being related, and even if Crocodile literally walked up the kid right that second and told him the truth, what would it change? He'd still be the man who nearly nuked a million people off the face of the earth, took over a country and killed Luffy and his friends while laughing about it. Being Luffy's other dad wouldn't make him any less of a horrible asshole (if anything it might make it slightly worse 'cause you get to add shit like "child abandonment" onto his list of crimes).

Luffy came to Marineford to save Ace. Crocodile came to Marineford to kill Whitebeard. He had no reason to interfere with Luffy's quest, and with the help Luffy already was recieving from the prison escapees, the Newkama and the Whitebeard Pirates, what would Crocodile's assistance add to the mix? Would Luffy even welcome him in helping save his brother?

Luffy had his own life, a life Crocodile had not been a part of. He had no right to try to insert himself into it at this point, after all he had done to Luffy. There's no crying over spilled milk. What's done is done, you just have to move on. He should just focus on what he came to do; get his revenge and take Whitebeard's head, as planned.

Deep breaths

...Only to realize that Whitebeard is a dying old man and not worth even killing anymore, because he's not the same Primebeard whom once beat Crocodile and crushed all his dreams. Defeating Whitebeard would not give him the catharsis he came for.

And at that point, the fuck was Crocodile going to do? The revenge he wants isn't there anymore 'cause it went bad a few decades ago. And between the raging war and Doflamingo on his ass it's not like he could just sneak out without anybody noticing. He doesn't have allies (aside from Daz under him) to worry about. He only has his hatred to the World Government.

At that point, he might as well be a nuisance to the Government and assist Luffy. Even if the help wasn't welcomed, even if Luffy hated him and regardless if he knew the truth or not, helping Luffy right then and there would still be better than letting the Government have their way and kill his son right in front of him

[hanasnx]

i need to share a cigarette with hayden christensen