#chopper is doing all he can to learn to treat any issue they could possible run into

[artificialflav]

I like to imagine when Chopper is over working himself in his medical studies, someone on the crew will notice, kidnap him, and throw him into Zoro’s lap to force a nap time.

[dannilea]

New Fic!

Title: Anchor in the Dawn

Fandom: Pacific Rim

Chapter 1/?

Summary: Raleigh Becket has a problem, and frankly, he blames Mako Mori. Five years on the destined to fail Wall doing everything he could to just not think (not about Yancy, or Knifehead, or Jaz, or the future beyond trying to snag another shift) means he is completely unprepared for the end of the Kaiju War. He also, incidentally, is not prepared for Mako, Tendo, and Herc refusing to let him continue avoiding his problems.

or;

Mako Mori has a problem and that problem is a co-pilot with no sense of self-preservation (and a severe underestimation of his ability to move on from a war they won)

@itsonlyforever82 and @3fluffies here’s that monstrer fic ya’ll have been encouraging.

---

Falling, Raleigh knew, was easy. He’d told Mako that anyone can fall, and he wasn’t wrong, and he wasn’t lying. All he had to do after he ejected her (because he couldn’t lose her like he lost Yancy, ripped from his mind panicking and screaming and desperate because even in his last moments all Yancy wanted to do was protect Raleigh) was fall into the breach and let Gipsy (his Jaeger, every bit a part of him as Yancy and Mako) blow and destroy that link between the Anteverse and Earth. It had been the easiest thing he’d done since Knifehead.

What Raleigh didn’t know how to do was stop falling. The only thing keeping him from falling right through the bottom of the chopper and into the ocean (and into and endless void he’ll never be able to forget) was the weight of Mako leaning against him, head on his shoulder, with his hand clasped in hers. Raleigh hadn’t felt this grounded since Yancy died and he didn’t really know what to do with that besides laying his head on top of Mako’s, eyes closed, and just listening to her breathe and reminding himself that she was there, that they were both fine and Mako wasn’t gone (even though he’d felt her fade from the drift, gradual and slow as her oxygen ran out and all part of him could think was painYancy’sgoneRaleighlistentome and ohgodohgodnotagaincan’tdothisagain).

It was, of course, in this moment of pseudo-peace that Raleigh had tricked himself into, that one of medics approaches and roused both him and Mako.

“Alright, Rangers. Heads up, you need to stay awake until we get back to the dome for a full assessment,” the medic said.

Raleigh cracked open his eyes reluctantly but didn’t lift his head. Mako squeezed his fingers a little tighter and he squeezed back. It may have been awhile since he had to deal with post-combat procedures, but he remembered how they went. There hadn’t been time after the double event in Hong Kong for a thorough check-up by the medical staff- just enough to tell which Rangers were fit for combat- and then there was the triple event and Operation Pitfall. Raleigh hadn’t thought he was going to make it out of Gipsy Danger, let alone all the way back to the Shatterdome for a full medical and psych evaluation. He was, honestly, very aware that if it hadn’t been for an imminent apocalypse he would not have been cleared to step into the conn-pod by any psych team on the planet, let alone in the PPDC.

Raleigh was not looking forward to talking to the psychs.

Mako, sensing that her co-pilot was not as settled as he was letting the crew believe, shifted and squeezed his hand again, tucking herself closer to his side. In the ghost-drift, he could feel her reassurance and echoic grief. With a jolt, he remembered that she had lost a father today, and now was not the time to lose himself in his own grief and lingering panic. Mako needed him here in the present, not lost in the past trying to fight a long dead monster.

Maybe Raleigh didn’t know how to anchor himself to the present, but he could anchor Mako.

Raleigh had known medical was going to be a nightmare. Shortly after the copter carrying him and Mako had landed, they were hustled out of their armor and drive suits and dropped into the improvised double bed that usually appeared for pilots dealing with post-combat drifting. Raleigh was positive he and Mako had been poked, prodded, scanned, and tested with everything the doctors had on hand, as well as a few things they probably had Newt come up with.

Mako, able to read him scarily well after only drifting three times, leveled him with a Look that had him swallowing the rather scathing reply he had to the doctor’s latest round of questions. Raleigh knew he was pissing the doctor off by refusing to let go of Mako, but honestly, Raleigh had already had one person die in his head and with the number of times he’d had to relive the memory in the last few days, they were lucky he wasn’t  curled around Mako hissing at anyone that came too close like a demented cat-lizard

(Okay, so the insomnia leads to binge watching some weird shit and maybe his similes and metaphors were little out there).

After someone insisted on trying to separate them again Mako leveled them with the smile – the one Raleigh knew from experience leads to an ass-kicking.

“We stay together,” she told them, the perfect picture of cooperation and calm and absolute steel, “And if you have a problem with it, get the Marshal.”

Raleigh was pretty sure he was in love.

“Keep it up with the heart eyes, Becket Boy, and you’re gonna be making me rich!”

Raleigh grinned and turned to face the door, “Tendo! They finally let you go

Tendo strolled up to the bed, “Yup. What’s left for me to do in the post-combat investigation can wait until we all get some rest,” he said with a pointed look at Raleigh. Raleigh honestly was not very surprised that Tendo already knew about his issues sleeping. Shatterdomes, Raleigh had learned, have better gossip vines than high school. When he couldn’t sleep he resorted to four things, generally: working out, reading, Rosetta Stone, and watching really weird late-night programming. Raleigh had attracted audiences while working on the Wall in Alaska (because apparently it was interesting to watch even washed up Rangers run through Jaeger Bushido drills) and he hadn’t really slept since coming to the Hong Kong Shatterdome. Raleigh had bumped into plenty of the late shift personnel and figured that one or all of them had to be Tendo’s source of information.

“Resting wouldn’t be much of an issue if they’d stop trying to make us separate,” Raleigh grumbled. He was exhausted and wanted to sleep but was, on a rather large level he was trying not to acknowledge, a bit terrified that if he let go of Mako one or the both of them were going to fall away and he was going to feel it again – that burningpanicourmindwasrippedinhalf and yancyyancyyancycan’tfindyouohgod. He knew having Mako’s mind torn from his – not the gradual fade out that happened in the breach when her oxygen ran out, but the full on rippingtearingshredding he felt when Yancy died – would kill him.

Mako turned from the nurse she was talking to and raises an eyebrow at Raleigh. He was aware he sounded a bit like a petulant child, thanks Mako.

“We’ll be resting soon, Tendo,” she said and Raleigh feels a bit guilty. Mako, unlike her co-pilot, does not suffer from insomnia and she looked exhausted. He could feel her desire to sleep through the ghost drift but he also felt her stubborn refusal to sleep and leave him halfway to panicking.

Raleigh was sure there was something to say or do here, but it turned out purposefully isolating yourself as much as possible for five years kind of destroys your people skills.

“You better. I remember how stubborn this one gets when he doesn’t want to do something, so let me know if you need any help, Mako.” Tendo responded

“Hey!” Raleigh objected, mildly offended.

Tendo rolled his eyes, “Raleigh, I’ve known you since the academy. I worked in LOCCENT for all of your engagements, and you can be a stubborn asshole when you want to be.”

Raleigh really couldn’t protest again – he knew Tendo was right and with the way Mako was smirking at him, she knew it too. Raleigh just sighed and leaned into Mako. He was pretty tired too and could probably sleep for once. He did not remember the medical crew being this much of a pain in the ass five years ago. He was pretty sure he’d fallen asleep sprawled across Yancy before and nobody so much as blinked. He had no idea why they were trying to get him and Mako to different beds now. Also, from what he remembered that was against post-combat protocol for Jaeger pilots.

Which even after five years, Raleigh was pretty sure that hasn’t changed.

Probably.

Raleigh frowned at the doctor he, Tendo, and Mako had been ignoring, “Isn’t it against regulation for pilots to be separated after combat?”

The doctor, a man in his 40’s, if Raleigh had to guess, pursed his lips and responded, “Usually, yes, but neither you or Ranger Mori are showing signs of drift shock. Actually, you’re both remarkably...settled for pilots that are barely three hours out of combat.”

Mako gave the doctor her best are-you-an-idiot look, and Raleigh’s face fell into something entirely nonplussed. Tendo regarded the doctor with a look of exasperation and told him that he was possibly the stupidest man he’d ever met.

“You’ve got two generally reserved people who are clinging to each other and are refusing to put so much as an inch in between them. Just because they’re not in hysterics doesn’t mean they’re not dealing with post-combat drift symptoms,” Tendo said, “Where the hell did you get your qualifications for treating Rangers?”

“He hasn’t,” snapped a voice from the door. Mako and Raleigh turned and saw Herc Hansen strolling into the rather heavily equipped room they and had been stashed in. “He was just hired by the PPDC during the move to the Hong Kong Shatterdome; he hasn’t been trained in treating Rangers yet and shouldn’t be the lead physician for you two.”

The Marshal scowled at the doctor, “Well? Get the hell out of here and get McCoy!”

The unnamed doctor (Raleigh was sure he had introduced himself at some point, but honestly, he couldn’t care less at the moment about the idiot’s name) scowled and marched out the door. Raleigh had never been more happy to see a pissed off Marshal in his life.

To be fair that was because before it was always Raleigh pissing off the Marshal, so not being on the receiving end of Herc’s ire is a nice role reversal he could get behind.

Herc turned to Mako, Raleigh and Tendo before rolling his eyes, “Now that that moron is out of here, you three get to quarters and go the fuck to sleep.”

Raleigh frowned, “We aren’t waiting on Doc McCoy?”

Herc leveled Raleigh with a look.

Raleigh and Mako practically sprinted back to her room.

---

By the time Mako was ready for bed, Raleigh had already managed to sprawl along one side of the bed and squeeze himself against the wall, leaving just enough room for Mako to flop down against his side and fling an arm along his back.

From the drift, Mako knew Raleigh had trouble sleeping, and when he did sleep it usually wasn’t for long because he’d eventually end up reliving Knifehead in his dreams and wake, sudden and harsh, as if the water spilling into the conn-pod in his memory was hitting him again in the waking world. She also knew that sometimes these memories and a flashback in his dream were triggered by the photos he kept on his wall.

So, today, after they finally won the war, Mako was determined that her co-pilot was going to get to sleep. Which is why they were in her room and not his (even though, technically, he had more space. She had more personal effects- the toys Sensei and gotten her and the few things she had left of her parents, such as her mother’s tea set and her father’s sword. She also had a desk for work that made her room seem much smaller than it actually was since it took up a good portion of one of her walls). Mako also hoped that the two of them together like this would keep her own personal monsters at bay; after reliving Onibaba just hours ago and then losing Sensei soon after, she knew it was very likely she’d have her own nightmares and flashbacks tonight.

Mako buried her face into Raleigh’s shoulder and slowly drifted to sleep. She dreamed of childhood snowball fights and learning to forge a sword, a mother with the scent of cigarettes clinging to her clothes and another mother teaching her to make her favorite sweet dish. She dreamed of the ground shaking with monstrous footsteps that inched closer much too quickly and far too slowly. Normally, when she dreams of the monster that killed her parents she is alone – small and frightened and clinging to a tiny red shoe. Now she stands tall in Gipsy Danger, Raleigh, and sword at the ready.

This time, she slays the monster in her nightmares.

(And some part of them, that part that is created from their two minds merging, that stays connected outside of the Drift, stepped into Raleigh’s nightmare-memories of claws digging into the conn-pod of Gipsy, and the unending burning in his arm where his own monster and ripped it off, and the  overwhelming pressure on his mind from taking on the entirety of Gipsy’s neural load,  and of the other half of his very being being ripped into the sky and landing in freezing water. Together Mako and Raleigh climb into the cradle and stop the monster before its claws can ever get into Yancy Becket.

Later, when she was awake, Mako wished it was that easy to heal herself and Raleigh. She wished they could just step into each other's minds and slay the monsters that lay there, freeing them from nightmares and should haves. But Mako had learned from Sensei and the child psychologist he insisted she see after he adopted her that healing, the healing she and Raleigh need, takes time.

She also knew that five years of isolation did not help Raleigh at all, and she wouldn’t let him wander away to stab at open wounds that had barely begun to stop bleeding, let alone scab over.

As long as they’re together they can heal).

[pinelife3]

Music I Can’t Understand

Getting into hip hop in my late teens was like learning a new language: slang, cars, food, drugs, brands, gangs, locations. For example:

What does it mean to be sitting on 44s?

44 inch rims on your car - highly coveted, a desirable rim size.

What about coming from the 504?

The area code of Hollygrove, New Orleans: the neighbourhood Lil Wayne grew up in.

Please double cup me?

Kindly serve me lean in two double stacked Styrofoam cups.

Ice cream paint job?

Cars again - clean exterior with creamy white leather interior.

Finna hit a lick?

Fixing (intending) to rob a liquor store.

Wavy Brazilian?

Human hair grown from the scalps of the fine people of Brazil, harvested, treated and then sold to be used in wigs and weaves. The hair has a natural wavy texture and is typically long and dark.

Cop dome? 

Receive a blow job. Confusingly, I’ve also heard ‘domed’ to mean shooting someone in the head. 

Chopper?

You might be thinking of a helicopter or a motorcycle, but in hip hop a chopper is almost always a fully automatic weapon - I guess because it cuts people down?

A bird?

A kilo of drugs, typically cocaine.

Beyond the slang, I also found some of the accents difficult to understand. Lil Wayne speaks in a hoarse, treacly voice, he’s usually fucked up, his word association is crazy, he loves puns, and he rapidly jumps from topic to topic. So, initially, listening to Wayne was like trying to speed read Shakespeare. It took me a while to be able to properly tune in and listen to the lyrics - but when I did, I found hip hop so rewarding and fun. This is all from one song:

‘Cause I’ll serve anyone like a blind waiter

I work out in my office, guess I’m fit for business

Your flow never wet, like grandma pussy/ I’m always good, like grandma cookies

You niggas best not slip, Ice Road Truckers

I also appreciate the trite but appealing throwaways:

felt like rockstar, might die later idk

(Music critics under the misapprehension that rappers didn’t glorify hard drugs and depresso partying before Future need to go back to school.)

I have memories of rapturous repeat listens of Good Kid, Maad City, trying to decode the story. Falling in love with the mythology of Kanye. Digging through forums. Listening to famous classics and thinking I was the first to uncover an unknown treasure, like an oblivious archaeologist. The golden age of Big Ghost’s blog. MF DOOM super fandom. Discovering old artists online and stuffing my ears with their back catalogs. Visiting country towns and thinking ‘I bet no one here has even heard of Aesop Rock’ like a smug fuck. Pouring over lyrics on genius.com. Sweating profusely at gigs. Hoarding mixtapes from DatPiff. Weirdly, I associate a lot of my fondest hip hop memories with being by myself on my laptop. 

The interface hasn’t changed one bit:

Over time, though, I’ve gotten bored with hip hop. I feel like I haven’t really fallen in love with anything released since ~2014. Piñata might be the last hip hop album that really worked on me (exception: the Hamburger Helper album Watch the Stove from 2016). Even To Pimp A Butterfly has serious issues: listen to “Mortal Man” and tell me it’s not the corniest shit ever. The extended butterfly/chrysalis/caterpillar metaphor throughout the album is like bad high school poetry. For a while, I thought my cynical outlook on modern hip hop was just a product of getting older and being wistful for the music I liked when I was younger. But now I’ve decided that this is a problem solely between me and hip hop, because I still find music that I get obsessed with. But that music is exclusively Celtic.

I would timebox my Celtic music obsession to the past year or so, but Spotify went to great pains to inform me that Enya was my artist of the decade, so this must have been latent within me for some time. 

When initially dipping my toe in the Celtic genre, I started with instrumentals and songs sung in English, but I’m waist deep now and have started listening to Gaelic music. It’s like birdsong: I don’t know what they’re saying, but I like the way it sounds. Throaty, clear. Choking, sweet. Windswept, warm. Profound, unknowable. Ancient, important. Echoing, intimate. They could be singing about stale muesli bars and stubbed toes for all I know. 

(If you don’t listen to these songs - especially the one below - I don’t think this blog post will work on you. See please listen.)

Take the song “Thig An Smeòrach As t-Earrach” (above). Obviously ‘Thig An Smeòrach As t-Earrach’ sounds like something Gollum would hiss under his breath, but I find the song itself practically spiritual. Gaelic is so foreign - the words bear no similarity to words I’ve ever heard before - but I feel like I still understand what’s being said. It’s like a fiery angel has appeared at the foot of your bed and is telling you something important: but the angel is so beautiful and bright, your eyes are watering. You can hardly look. And you certainly can’t listen. But the message is burned in your brain. You didn’t understand a word, and wouldn’t know how to repeat what the angel said - but you understand their meaning perfectly.

Do you think the past or the future is more important? And not in terms of your own life (e.g. will your retirement be better than your time in high school) - that’s chickenshit, that’s two turns in early game Civ V, that’s low stakes table. No, I mean in terms of the whole timeline of the planet: neolithic magic in stone circles, valleys where no human has ever walked, unturned stones beneath deep water, dead languages. Should we protect the physical remnants of history or privilege the possibilities of the future? Would we crush Grecian pottery if it unlocked clean, sustainable power which allowed us to create AirPod batteries which never lose their charge? Without even asking, I will tell you that anyone making Celtic music thinks the past is more important than the future. And while you listen to Celtic music, you will agree. 

Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery.

Celtic music is humanist, but ancient humanist. It is not interested in what Elon Musk is doing, it doesn’t care what shirt you’re wearing, or whether you’re an Episcopalian vegan, or if you can finish The New Yorker crossword puzzle, or really any modern concerns - at least, I don’t think it cares. In a way, I don’t care what they’re saying, because I like the way it makes me feel: peaceful and romantic and connected to something eternal and profound. Like when a huge rock is warm to the touch. These are underrated feelings.

[roll20bygriff]

Character Survey (Updated Oct ‘17)

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Beau Jayson Stoker MEANING:  The French word for ‘beautiful’. REASONING: Named for his father. NICKNAME(S): Smoker. Either because he smokes, his hair is the colour of cigarette ash, or his facility to wreck technology. PREFERRED NAME(S): Just Beau. BIRTH DATE: November 13th. AGE: 18 ZODIAC: Scorpio GENDER: Male PRONOUNS:  He/him ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Gay SEXUAL ORIENTATION: See above. NATIONALITY: American ETHNICITY: Caucasian CURRENT LOCATION: Oakes University, Colorado LIVING CONDITIONS: Currently living in a dormitory in Oakes University as he’s studying in their Hero Certification Program. TITLE(S): None.

BACKGROUND

BIRTH PLACE: Oak Ridge, Tenessee HOMETOWN: Same! SOCIAL CLASS: Working class and circling the drain due to circumstance.  Blue collar  EDUCATION LEVEL: High School. FATHER: ‘Gone.’ His mother refuses to be drawn further. MOTHER: Raised Beau single-handedly while working as a mechanic. SIBLING(S): None. BIRTH ORDER: N/A CHILDREN: None. PET(S): None. OTHER IMPORTANT RELATIVES: Naw. PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS: None. Some girls were drawn to him due to the ‘angry loner’ energy he exuded, but he managed to rebuff them. ARRESTS?: Mainly cautions for teenage mischief and intoxication PRISON TIME?: None

OCCUPATION & INCOME

PRIMARY SOURCE OF INCOME:  None. He’s a student. SECONDARY SOURCE OF INCOME: N/A TERTIARY SOURCE(S) OF INCOME: N/A. APPROXIMATE AMOUNT PER YEAR: N/A CONTENT WITH THEIR JOB (OR LACK THEREOF)?: No. Now that he has his powers under control he’s aiming to be a hero, but if that doesn’t work out at least he can fall back on being a mechanic. PAST JOB(S): He used to help out his mom in the garage before his power became too uncontrollable. SPENDING HABITS: He’s never really had much spending money, and due to his uncontrollable power he never spent it on many luxuries. Mainly cheap beer and weed. MOST VALUABLE POSSESSION: A cross necklace given to him years ago by his mother.

SKILLS & ABILITIES

PHYSICAL STRENGTH: He’s well muscled from physical labour, but he hardly rates on superhuman levels. Gotten stronger and more flexible due to his intense training at the HCP. OFFENSE: He’s had more than his share of fistfights, but that’s all. He’s now incorporated more martial arts into his fighting style. DEFENSE: Again, he knows how to duck and weave. His training means he’s now more combat-aware. SPEED: He doesn’t get winded easily. Stronger and more agile than before. INTELLIGENCE: Largely average except when it comes to technology, where his powers provide him with savant-like ability. ACCURACY: He can throw a football and his fingers are nimble enough for engineering work AGILITY: …is not something he counts as a strength. Tumbling and parrying are now a part of his regimen. STAMINA: Human average. He is pretty tough and hardy, able to endure long-distance runs. TEAMWORK: Terra incognita for him presently - before he got to the HCP no-one wanted to work with him. Now he’s cautiously thinking about attempting to possibly start making a friend.He’s not yet learned through the HCP how to work as a team, but knows it’s something he’ll have to work on - his powers are very situation-specific. He is very loyal to the friends he has made though. TALENTS: He has an intuitive ability with technology that’s off the charts as well as the power to permanently destroy machines. SHORTCOMINGS: His experience of being treated like a leper most of his life combined with being closeted (and thus pushing people away in hopes they don’t discover his ‘secret’) he has severe issues with socialising.Now that he’s out and is dating, and more importantly to him he has some people he considers real friends, he’s overcome his social anxiety somewhat. However, it’s been identified that he has a very binary moral code, something of a double-edged sword in the Hero game. LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: Just English. DRIVE?: For sure. JUMP-STAR A CAR?: Yeah. Jump-start an aircraft carrier? Probably that too. CHANGE A FLAT TIRE?: Yes. RIDE A BICYCLE?: Yes. SWIM?: Competently. PLAY AN INSTRUMENT?: No, but he can sing a little. PLAY CHESS?: He understands the rules but he’s no good at it. BRAID HAIR?: Never had the circumstances to learn. TIE A TIE?: Definitely. His mama made sure he’s a gentleman. PICK A LOCK?: As easily as breathing.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE & CHARACTERISTICS

FACE CLAIM: Jesy McKinney EYE COLOR: Brown HAIR COLOR: Dark, ranging from charcoal black to almost-white. HAIR TYPE/STYLE: Washed and then tamed by a meshback cap most days. He’s experimenting with a mohawk, now he feels a little more free to express himself. GLASSES/CONTACTS?: Nope DOMINANT HAND: Right. HEIGHT: 5′8″ WEIGHT: 200lbs. BUILD: Best described as ‘solid.’ EXERCISE HABITS: Exercise can be a solitary pursuit, so he definitely keeps himself in shape. He runs with his dorm-mates most mornings, as well as training hard in the HCP facilities. SKIN TONE: White bread, ranging to a farmer’s tan in the summer months. TATTOOS: None yet PIERCINGS: None MARKS/SCARS: A few, from brawls he’s been in. NOTABLE FEATURES: None that weren’t already covered. USUAL EXPRESSION: Sullen and closed-off. CLOTHING STYLE: For now, hard-wearing jeans, caps and leather jackets. He might start leaning towards more of a punk look now he has more freedom of expression. JEWELRY: Just a necklace from his mother. ALLERGIES: None. BODY TEMPERATURE: Average? DIET: He is happy to be able to eat anything. He’s not picky. PHYSICAL AILMENTS: None

PSYCHOLOGY

JUNG TYPE: ISTP   JUNG SUBTYPE: SENSORY ISTP ENNEAGRAM TYPE: Challenger MORAL ALIGNMENT:  On the classic D&D scale, Neutral Good TEMPERAMENT: Stoic ELEMENT: Earth PRIMARY INTELLIGENCE TYPE: Spatial Intelligence   APPROXIMATE IQ: Average. MENTAL CONDITIONS/DISORDERS: Nothing clinical, but his socialisation is in the pits. SOCIABILITY: Low, but he deeply wants to be otherwise. Still not the life and soul of the party, but he likes spending time with his friends. EMOTIONAL STABILITY: Very quick to lash out at perceived slights. Working hard to get his temper under control - it tends to flare when ‘his people’ are threatened. OBSESSION(S): Cars and engineering. COMPULSION(S): None. PHOBIA(S): Snakes ADDICTION(S): Cigarettes DRUG USE: None. ALCOHOL USE: He’s partial to a beer or six. PRONE TO VIOLENCE?: He can handle himself, but he doesn’t enjoy being violent.

MANNERISMS

SPEECH STYLE: He’s a man of few words. ACCENT: Tennesee.   QUIRKS: His fingers tend to fidget with things when he’s preoccupied. HOBBIES: Beyond cars and engines, he has a soft spot for Country and Gospel music, and he likes to sing. HABITS: None that haven’t been covered above. NERVOUS TICKS: Most have been channeled into a smoking habit.   DRIVES/MOTIVATIONS: To make friends, and to prove that he and other powered people aren’t to be feared. He wants to be a champion for his boyfriend Alberto, and by extension other people in the LGBT community. He’s working on being nuanced about it, acknowledging that not everyone needs to have their battles fought for them.   FEARS: He worries about his mother being left alone. POSITIVE TRAITS: He’s tenacious, and has a deep drive to do good.   NEGATIVE TRAITS: A quick temper.   SENSE OF HUMOR: Not terribly sophisticated (like most teenagers) but he’s not usually one to laugh at the misfortune of others or from anything that’s bigoted.   DO THEY CURSE OFTEN?: Very. CATCHPHRASE(S): None

FAVORITES

ACTIVITY: Working on cars.   ANIMAL: Dogs BEVERAGE: Beer   BOOK: Not very good at picking books, but… Anything historical he’d enjoy. Non-fiction mainly, but fiction too. (Through historical inaccuracy might make him nerd rage.)   CELEBRITY: Jason Statham. COLOR: Black. DESIGNER: Not really applicable. FOOD: Anything fried.     FLOWER: Tulips are… nice?     GEM: Rubies   HOLIDAY: Christmas. It’s been tough for him not being able to go home for the holidays, but since Alberto’s folks have thrown him out he’s been determined to make his boyfriend’s holiday as special as he can manage.   MODE OF TRANSPORTATION: Cars. MOVIE: Gone in 60 Seconds (the remake) MUSICAL ARTIST: Dolly Parton QUOTE/SAYING: “Anxiety is a thin stream of fear trickling through the mind. If encouraged, it cuts a channel into which all other thoughts are drained.” ― Arthur Roche   SCENERY: Wide open spaces.   SCENT: Petrol. SPORT: Not really, though he likes Pro Wrestling.   SPORTS TEAM: None TELEVISION SHOW: Anything car related, shows like Orange County Choppers, Pimp My Ride, etc.   WEATHER: Thunderstorms. VACATION DESTINATION: Orlando.  

ATTITUDES

GREATEST DREAM: To have his own mechanic’s shop. GREATEST FEAR: That his mother will be disappointed in him for some reason. MOST AT EASE WHEN: Working on an engine, trying to solve a puzzle.   LEAST AT EASE WHEN: Getting to know new people. WORST POSSIBLE THING THAT COULD HAPPEN: That he blows his one chance at making new friends. He’s so blissfully happy he worries about imposter syndrome, that people will see the ‘real’ him and abandon him. BIGGEST ACHIEVEMENT: Getting into the HCP, because it meant putting aside some of his fears.   BIGGEST REGRET: All the times he let his temper get the better of him.   MOST EMBARRASSING MOMENT: All the times he was forced to reveal he hadn’t seen the latest movie, heard the hottest music, didn’t have the right cellphone (or any cellphone)   BIGGEST SECRET: Being gay. Being in the HCP technically counts, but he feels that his new classmates won’t like him if they find out the former.  Now that he’s out, his only worries are his secret identity and that he likes things that aren’t ‘cool’ - country music, WWE.

[midnightluck]

One Piece/Avengers tho

Based on this story where Brook is reborn as Steve, and then carried to illogical extremes.

I'm assuming Franky is Tony; that's the only thing that makes sense to me. Clint'd've have to be Usopp, and oh and PEPPER AS NAMI

So that leaves us with bruce!chopper and Thor as...hmm .

haha okay but a team made up of high profile, very visible, tried-and-tested superheroes, happily living in the tower and fighting crime and aliens like old friends and SHIELD is kinda treating them warily, and then one day, just out of nowhere, this little kid walks into the lobby of Stark Tower and the team loses their collective shit and immediately put this teenager in charge of everything and demand payment for world-saving in meat from then on and the world/SHIELD watch with horror as their premiere superhero force just defer to this tiny unknown civilian

oh but Thor!Luffy, Loki!Ace, and Baldr!Sabo, it would work tho 

What about ace and Sabo being Thor and Loki and having no idea where Luffy is

puts a whole new spin on all that time they spent questing across the nine realms, huh?

"Hey, hey, Hiemdall" "Hiemdall, hey" "Hey so you found that kid yet?" "Any leads?" "...not since the last time you asked, three hours ago. Are you sure you can't give me a better description than 'smile like sunshine, scar on his cheek, always in trouble'? " "Uh. Well...." "Those are kinda the relevant points." "Besides, he may not look the same" "We certainly don't" "Well, kinda we do?" "Okay, yeah, but he might still not." "Well, potentially he's still a rubber band.” "Oh, yeah, hey, does that help? Maybe he's a rubber band sometimes" "......gtfo of my dome"

m3h: ... Yooooo what if Hiemdall was Fujitora?He still can't help because he never saw Luffy

kay but WHAT IF

but what if Odin was Garp tho

"Someone call those damn brats in here, I wanna talk to them. Okay, so, Aceki, you remember how you had a shit childhood last time 'cause everyone said your dad was a monster and all that rot?" "....well. Yeah. Kinda hard to forget." "Well, you got over that, so you'll get over this. " "By all the Blues what the hell is it this time?" "Well, Roger, Laufy, not that much of a difference. Roger wasn't as much of an ass, I suppose, so there's that, at least." "...I need to sit down." Thorbo: "You are sitting down." Aceki: "well. fuck my life then." "Fuck your lives, then?" "Shut up, I hate you." "No you don't, and I don't hate you either." "...you don't?" "Never could manage it, nope. If I couldn't then, why'd I manage it now? Besdies, we're proper brothers this time, and also if I lived here alone with just Garpdin I'd go mad" "Well, true. Okay? Okay." "Sure, okay, let's go get some food." "Okay. Food. Sure." Garpdin watches them go: "Ah, see? He'll be just fine."

also imagine bby Loki!Ace demanding to learn magic, and being a dedicated if slow student right up until he learns how to summon fire, and then ditching the whole rest of it

"but you've spent years learning magic!" "No, I spent years learning how to summon fire." "...right, magic, and there's so much left! You could play with wind, or ice, or learn illusions or potions--" "why'd I ever want that stuff?" "But--but---years. Magic. Studying?" "...yes? I don't see your point."

"Okay, stand aside, dude, I got this. So, Aceki, you got a bit ice power, right? Cause that whole frost giant thing?" "Well, yeah, I guess--" "Okay, and you remember what happened when the asshole who killed you faced Aokiji?" ".....teach me ice right now"

and that's how ace got over his identity issues this time around

m3h: Lol Koala has the option of being Maria Hill or freaking Sif.

oh please Sif. She spends all her time casually beating down chauvinistic dudes and complaining loudly how she's forever doomed to be stuck with this utter asshole only now there's two of them, what did she ever do to deserve this fresh hell?

but then of course Thorbo starts listing all the shit she did that could possibly lead to her being stuck in said fresh hell

awwww but Law being Hogunn and just quietly bitchfacing along behind them in order to find Luffy again one day

m3h: Do you think Law would experiment on people? If yes then he may join hydra as a doctor just to have some fun.

The whole Heart crew as Hydra? And then when the Avengers come barreling in, Law just sighs, goes "Well, this was fun. Okay, everyone, time to switch sides." and they tear up the base pretty well on their own

Law’s actually one of the better doctors in hydra. None of his patients unintentionally die.

Phil!Marco: these guys were HYDRA yesterday, and now you want them to live in the Tower and be the Avengers swing shift? Why? How? Why them? Why would you even begin to consider trusting them? Zoro: 'Cause that's Traffy. Philco: ...sigh. Sure, fine, why not invite the rest of the supernovas while you're at it, whatever, not like I needed my sanity. Zoro: Well, if we find them, we will. Philco: THAT WAS NOT PERMISSION

the reason so many were reborn into the world is because the ancient weapons are active again and anyone who dealt with them last time around was marked, right, only in this time they're called infinity gems

JUSTIFICATION FOR CRACK CROSSOVERS HO

but so okay, how about this: Franky drags his crew back, with their memories. Everyone else is more or less back cause there's only so many souls and they keep getting recycled. Without a catalyst they'd never remember, but if someone smacks them over the head with it then they will. So it's the strawhats adventuring and trying to sort this weapon thing kinda peripherally, and leaving a trail of remembering-a-past-life chaos in their wake

Phil is like, headaches forever, right up until Luffy goes, "but aren't you used to this, Mr. Pineapple? With Whitebeard and all?" And Phil just kind of sways and stares off into the distance for a bit, then sits down and hides his head for a bit, then looks up and goes, "No amount of lifetimes will ever prepare anyone for you, Strawhat Luffy. Where's Ace?"

Explains why Coulson didn't die. Who can kill a Phoenix? 

Thanos is Teach. Teachos.

look idk