#i accidentally wrote so much

[peak-dumbass]

she Robots on my In til i Disguise

[turtleblogatlast]

I will never be over how good Leo and Hueso’s dynamic is and how both of them get so much out of having the other in their lives.

In Leo’s case, he gains that older male figure in his life that he is willing to trust and lower his walls for. He gains a confidant where he has none elsewhere, too busy keeping up his many masks with his family to ever consider showing them his true thoughts. He gains an authority figure who is willing to hear him out, no matter how reluctant said figure initially appears.

In Hueso’s case, Leo’s direct involvement in the skeleton’s life has undoubtedly benefited Hueso so unbelievably well. For one, it’s Leo’s choice to ask Hueso for help finding his brothers that ultimately leads to the clearing of Hueso’s Hidden City ban. Then, it’s Leo and Mikey that Hueso brings on to help him with two mob bosses, ending with the bosses no longer being a problem for Hueso. And of course, through Leo’s decision to come to Hueso for advice and later the slider’s insistence that Hueso try to make up with his brother, Hueso’s estranged relationship with Piel is finally mended.

Sure, Leo causes no small amount of strife and damages to Hueso’s business and person, and Hueso is often annoyed by and speaks callously to Leo, but there’s a reason Leo feels comfortable enough to continue going to Hueso, and there’s a reason Hueso ultimately always hears Leo out.

They really do end up feeling like a nephew and uncle, don’t they?

[halfbit]

some brief advice for characters with small scars from a head injury (from my specific experience) since i do see people give these types of scars to characters sometimes

mine is like this for reference:

specific info:

i didn't receive in-hospital treatment for it even though i lost consciousness i was kicked by a horse, the metal horseshoe is what did it it was a long time ago (over a decade now)

it doesn't effect me much day to day, it is always visible but it has become less prominent over time. certain expressions (anything eyebrow raising especially) make it very obvious.

it is physically raised and lacks pigment.

sensation wise, it used to itch but i haven't felt that for awhile now. if i pay attention when touching it, there's a slight difference in temperature from the rest of my skin. if i scrape it (even just lightly, like scratching with a fingernail) it feels like its bleeding even when its not.

if i accidentally hit it (i dont like doorways), it is extremely painful, it burns, my vision flashes white and i see stars, and it feels like its bleeding all over again of course. it feels like the irl equivalent of being stunned by an electric arrow. if your character has a scar like this, having them get hit on it in a fight is a good way to make them go down for a bit. the sensation also lingers for a decent amount of time afterwards, depending on how hard the hit was. the lingering feels like a heavy pulsing/throbbing, similar to a strong headache but localized on the scar. personally, it feels like even minor impacts can have a really strong effect still as long as its a pretty direct hit.

so yeah just my personal experience having a scar like this! i like seeing characters with similar scars but it often feels like it was just a cosmetic choice to show that they're tough. it's not something that is super high-impact for me, but it still has its effects, and when you aggravate them you can't really focus on anything else until it goes away.

[holographic-mars]

YOU FOOL. YOU ABSOLUTE BUFFOON. YOUVE FALLEN RIGHT INTO MY TRAP

So anyways, thinking about how Cosmos is a very affectionate drunk and when he gets drunk around Soundwave he’ll start rambling about how beautiful and smart and wonderful he is and how insanely in love Cosmos is with him, and its super lame and embarrassing and makes Soundwave giggle bc damn. This guy is sooo lame and it’s really cute.

At some point they end up around the Lost Light crew and after shift Cosmos goes drinking with some others (cdrw, tailgate, nautica, lotty, others, etc etc) and he gets a little too drunk and accidentally starts talking about how crazy stupid beautiful Soundwave is. Eventually Soundwave, followed by meggy, roddy, rav, Magnus come into the bar and everyone is trying to shut cosmos up bc nobody knows they’re together and doesn’t want Cosmos to embarrass himself or say anything that’ll screw up his friendship with soundwave. Cosmos, seeing that Soundwave is with professional company, quickly shuts up bc he doesn’t wanna embarrass soundwave. Or at least he tries to shut up.

It works as well as you’d think. They approach the table, Soundwave quickly notices cosmos is drunk (and staring at him like a sad desperate puppy) and has to take a moment to stop himself from giggling before casually suggesting that Cosmos retire for the night because he’s clearly had too much to drink (ravage, already knowing this is going to go horribly, decides she needs a drink).

Cosmos clumsily (and eagerly) agrees and stumbles out of his chair, before telling soundwave how smart he is for the suggestion . Soundwave thanks him and asks if he needs someone to help him get back to his hab. Cosmos says no, and then tells soundwave hes the smartest mech he knows. And the prettiest. Soundwave thanks him again, amusement coloring his field. Nautica starts hushing cosmos, tailgate and rodimus are laughing behind their hands. Meg and Magnus look horrified.

Cosmos realizes his error and drunkenly apologizes which soundwave dismisses, and again suggests he goes to his hab and sleep. Cosmos nods, but then shakes his head and says he’d rather stay because soundwave is here, and not in his hab. Nautica and lotty quickly get up, grab cosmos, apologize profusely to Soundwave and drag cosmos away before he says anything else. Soundwave sighs quietly, not upset, more amused, but knows he’ll have to explain a lot to the shocked and horrified upper command of the lost light. Not that it’s any of their business, of course.

The next morning Cosmos (hungover and deeply embarrassed) apologizes to Soundwave numerous times for embarrassing him in front of others. Soundwave tips his head in amusement, has nothing to be embarrassed about, Cosmos is his courtmate and he won’t be embarrassed about that (ravage did damage control, telling megatron that cosmos worships the ground soundwave walks on and Soundwave deserves nothing less. Even if it’s just a stupid little autobot, Soundwave is happy and that’s all that matters. Megatron quickly shut up after that). He rubs gentle circles across Cosmos’ back as the poor mech nurses his hangover and pings lotty and nautica an embarrassed ‘thank you’ for rescuing him.

ANYWAYS TEHE. I LOVE THEM . ITS 4AM AND I WONT STOP THINKINF ABOUT THEM ❤️❤️💚💚🛸🛸🛸🛸

[oncillabrigade]

Okay so here's my thing: I figured I would hop right into part 2 of my babby Tim fic after finishing part 1, and then a really fucked up Tim/Ra's idea jumped into my head and got me by the throat, and now I have mood whiplash from my own brain/writing?!

Also, a scene from my truly stupid, self-indulgent "Jason and Tim accidentally become bros immediately" fic sprung into my sleepy mind and then poured itself out of my fingers fully formed into a Google Doc.

So. I may be writing multiple longfics at the same time. Wish me luck?!

[fruitheart]

can I request a afab nb reader x rex angst fluff fic? maybe like one of his explosives go off and injures reader and they lose their memory of who he is 😖

i know you

Rex Sloan/Splode x AFAB/NB!Reader

note ; this was such a cute idea to me HEHE, of course, here you go.. ( ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ ) fyi reader is a super

Everyone told him it wasn’t his fault. They told him it was an accident, that he hadn’t meant to. He’d have never meant to. Rex didn’t need people telling him he would have never meant to do it to know that was the truth. He was an asshole, but he wasn’t evil. Never would he have done what led up to this on purpose.

Words of reassurance and attempted comfort from everyone trying to help him feel better, trying to prevent him from blaming himself any more than he already was fell completely through. He was good at acting unbothered at first though, worried, but unbothered.

It didn’t work, how could it? When he closed his eyes, he could see you. The realization, the complete fear in your eyes, then the small flash of acceptance before the explosion went off. It was his fault the explosion happened to begin with.

When he closed his eyes, he could hear your voice call out to him before the explosion engulfed you, before it consumed you whole. He could see the look on your face right before it happened, you knew he was going to blame himself for it.

Every time he slept, he dreamt of it. Every time he laid in his bed at night and found himself finally drifting off to sleep, he was quickly met with the memory of how everything unfolded.

“Quit being such a hardass!” You scolded him. “Just follow the plan, Rex! Stop being so annoying.”

He should have listened.

He didn’t.

“Quit being such a hardass.” He mocked as you flew off, “What a bitch, they think I’m annoying?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I mean, am I right?” Rex turned towards Kate, trying to get someone to agree with him.

“You should listen to them, Rex.” She glared, “Before you get one of us killed.” Running off before he could argue back with her.

He should have listened.

He didn’t.

Back-and-forth bickering between you two while in the middle of a battle. Maybe if he didn’t argue with you, he would have been paying attention to what he was doing. But that’s not how it happened.

“Damn it, Rex! Now’s not the time!” You called out from afar, busy trying to keep back Komodo Dragon. “Just shut up!” Senses overwhelmed, trying to keep up with arguing back with him amongst all the chaos.

“I’m just saying, you’re always giving me shit! You’re not exactly any better!” He shouted. Hands grasping one of the metal bars attached to his hip, charging it quickly and throwing it past you, creating a small explosion to back off the rest of the Lizard League. The explosion causing your ears to ring.

It was too much, you couldn’t keep up. It wasn’t your fault, Rex should have taken notice. He should have taken the situation seriously. Instead he was too caught up in a game of who can win the argument.

Charging another metal bar strong enough to completely decimate anyone near it, he should have noticed how disoriented you were. He thought you would have seen the explosive being chucked towards you both. He thought you would have moved out of the way in time. You were always quick with it, you were always well coordinated and aware of everything going on, you were always ready.

He should have paid attention.

You noticed the metal bar rolling towards you too late, you didn’t see it until it was already at your feet. Head snapping up at Rex, his face morphed from smug at his earlier retort, to complete horror. His lips parted and his voice screamed out your name.

Your hand reached out towards him as you attempted to move away, mouth opening,

“Rex–!”

The flash of the explosion lit your face before he could see nothing at all but the aftermath. Hands quickly wafting away the smoke as panic had his nerves shot. Ears ringing and eyes wide, he ran as fast as he could, stumbling over chunks of rubble and debris. Throat tight and scratchy as he continued to shout your name, calling out to you.

His brain saved every little detail to torment him. It saved every millisecond of it. It saved the way you looked when he found you. Bloodied and bruised, a nasty gash to your head that oozed blood down your face, patches of your skin reddened and burned. Even your suit was barely intact as most of it had been torn and burned.

Rex felt sick. How could he not? It was enough to make anyone hate themselves, it was enough to make him hate himself.

He replayed it again and again in his head until the thought made him feel like puking. He dreamt it again and again until he’d wake up gasping for air, muscles cramping and body shaking. Rex wouldn’t ever have done anything like that on purpose.

He’d have never hurt you. It didn’t matter how many times the both of you argued. How many times he called you names and how many shouting matches you had.

Weeks went by, weeks of watching you lay still in a hospital bed. In a cold white room with monitors that beeped and showed how your body was holding up.

Cecil told him how it was no surprise you survived, advanced durability, you were always able to take a nasty hit. But the damage inflicted was painful, especially the blow to your head.

It was enough to send you into a coma. They didn’t know what your status would be when you woke up, if you were to ever wake up. It didn’t matter to him, he would have sat next to your bed for the rest of his life if it called for it.

He told himself it was his fault. He didn’t care what anyone else said, he didn’t care about the reassuring remarks and pleas to just give himself a break. It was his fault he had to watch you lay there hooked up to machines. He was good at playing it off like it was no big deal, like he knew you’d come back from it, hiding away the worry.

Rex was a prick, he was a stubborn asshole, but even he couldn’t stop himself from pressing his ear up to your chest and listening to your heartbeat. And when someone walked in, he pretended he wasn’t just holding your hand in his.

He’d wait until others left before fixing your hair, brushing it out from your face and making sure you looked like you were comfortable.

He’d never show that he cared, you’d have teased the absolute living hell out of him for it, but when you looked like this, when the overwhelming guilt made itself known again… Rex caught himself holding the side of your face in the palm of his hand.

If it took living out the rest of his life sleeping in a chair beside you, he’d do so.

─ ୨୧ ─

When he walked in this morning, he was surprised to see a couple of people already standing outside your room. He was usually the first and only one to visit you at the start of the day.

“What the hell is going on here? A party? Move people!” He scoffed, trying to push past Kate and Eve.

“Rex, wait–” Eve reached for him, putting a hand to his shoulder, keeping him from reaching the door as she pulled him away.

Growing annoyed he turned to her, “What the hell, Eve? What?”

“I don't think it's a good idea seeing them right now–”

“Yeah, Eve’s right, Rex.” Mark added in.

“Huh? What is this? Move out the way, Jesus.” Rex shouted, brushing Eve’s hand off as he reached for the door handle, ready to barge in without so much as listening to them. Expecting the worst given how everyone was acting.

Swinging the door open, he was met with… Well, you. You were finally awake. He felt more than relieved, his body almost going weak at the sight of you awake and looking around. To hear your voice as you spoke to Cecil before cutting yourself off at his intrusion, eyes slowly glancing at him up and down.

Cecil turned towards him, before he could spare Rex from what was to come, he was already opening his mouth,

“Holy shit! You're awake! Oh my God, finally!” He beamed, quickly stepping to the side of the bed, grabbing your arms.

“You were out for weeks!” He laughed, “We can finally get you out of here! You don’t know how fuckin’ boring it was staying in here waiting on your ass.” His hands reached to help you out from the bed.

“Rex, I don’t think–”

“Who are you?”

At first it didn’t register what you said, not fully. He looked at you funny, like you were making some kind of bad joke, eyebrow raising and lip twitching into a smirk. Until he realized nobody had the same reaction as him. Looking back at you to watch as genuine confusion stayed on your face. His hands falling to his sides.

“What?” He laughed once more, disbelief, hidden denial.

“It’s… It’s me. Rex, it’s… I’m Rex– I’m,” He stuttered over his words, looking around. From you, to Cecil, to everyone standing outside your room.

“What the fuck is happening?” He didn’t want to face it. Not even when you looked at him wide-eyed and confused. “You know who I am, stop shitting around. I get it! I get it, I should have listened but don’t–”

“Rex.” Cecil spoke, tone stern, warning him to stop speaking. Motioning his head towards the door as he walked out, Rex followed right behind him. He spared you one more glance before closing the door behind him.

“They don’t remember who you are–”

“Bullshit!” Rex shouted, defensive and unwilling to believe it. Unwilling to accept it. “You expect me to believe this? I’ve been putting up with their ass for years!” He shook his head, looking from one person to another, desperate for some sort of support in his words. No one backed him up.

Cecil pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing, “They suffered a concussion, they were put into a coma– Rex, they don’t remember a couple of things. Alright? I understand it’s not easy–”

“My ass they don’t remember! You know, this is fucked up, alright? Whatever this game is, it’s fucked! And I’m not playing along.” He huffed, turning and reaching for the handle once more. Eyes peering through the small window in the door, watching as you looked around the room.

You looked so lost; you really didn’t remember. His jaw clenched, trying to keep it together. The look on your face when you caught him staring. You really did have no clue who he was, you didn’t remember him.

“Rex. It was an accident, it’s not your fault.” Eve tried to reassure, pressing a hand to his back. He couldn’t even take his eyes off you to look at her. “I’m sure somewhere deep down, they know who you are, they just can’t remember right now.”

“They’re suffering from memory loss.” Cecil spoke, “Their condition doesn’t seem too bad. They don’t recall who certain people are or the incident but the best we’re hoping for is that it doesn’t get worse and eventually they’re able to recover their memory.”

─ ୨୧ ─

He tried to pretend like it didn’t bother him. Like he was okay with you not remembering him. Not that he was good at pretending the more time went on. Yet he didn’t let it stop him from being right by your side while you were recovering. Rex was insistent on staying right by you, even if he still was being an ass.

He woke up rather early, back aching from sleeping in a chair that was far from comfortable. Letting out a groan, he stretched before settling back down.

Looking over at you, he hadn’t realized he was watching you sleeping peacefully for a bit now until he noticed one of your eyes open and staring right back at him. Earning an embarrassed reaction out of him as he cleared his throat.

You snorted, rubbing your face before sitting up. “How many more times am I going to catch you watching me sleep.” You yawned.

Rex turned away, flustered and slightly annoyed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He rolled his eyes, “...When did you wake up?”

“As soon as you started staring at me.”

“I wasn’t staring.” He sneered.

“Uh huh, sure. You totally weren’t, stranger.”

“Shut up.” He groaned, slumping in his seat.

You rolled your eyes, laying back on your side as you pulled the thin sheet over your head and shielded your eyes from the light. The sound of Rex’s foot tapping against the tiled floor as he bounced his leg filling in the silence for a few minutes.

“I’m not a stranger.” His tone was almost upset. You were quiet for a bit,

“I know you’re not,” This was recurring between the two of you. He didn’t like it when you made those little comments, when you made it apparent you really didn’t remember who he was anymore. It made him feel bad. It made you feel bad. Even if you didn’t exactly remember him, you at least knew he meant something to you before.

From the way he talked about it, day after day in an attempt to help you recover what you lost, you knew you meant something to him too. He was arrogant, sure. Impulsive, full himself and a jerk, but something in you didn’t all too much mind. Like you knew he was capable of more than that.

“Sorry.”

He frowned, the last thing he wanted was to make you feel like anything was your fault. Especially when he was the reason you ended up here. If it were anybody else, he probably wouldn't have cared, but you weren't anyone else.

“It's whatever, It’s not like I’m upset or anything.”

You pulled the sheet down a bit, peering at him with an unamused look.

“You’re a horrible liar.”

“Not lying.”

“Are too.”

He leaned in, glaring at you with a pout of his lip. “How is it that you forgot me but you haven’t forgotten how to be so God damn annoying.”

You shrugged your shoulders, “If I’m so annoying then why are you still here.” Sitting up once more as you leaned into him as well, expression smug and teasing. Rex faltered, heat rising to his face before he sat back and looked away from you. Trying to play off the way his face reddened.

In truth, Rex always thought you were really attractive, now he wouldn’t say it to your face, never would he admit it to you or anyone for that matter. It’d just feed your ego, ironically coming from the guy with the biggest ego out of the two of you. But he also refused to admit to it out of embarrassment.

Embarrassed to admit that the sound of your voice and the sight of you were all very attractive to him, comforting even. Back then he was able to ignore it but since the accident, he realized just how much he thought about it. Nearly losing you was enough to shove those feelings in his face and force him to acknowledge it.

It made him sad however, you were still the same, no doubt. From the way you got on his nerves and how he felt towards you, but you no longer knew him like you used to. It felt cruel, like this was his punishment for not listening.

If this was his punishment, then he’d stick through it until the day you do remember him.

The feeling of you pinching his leg pulled him out of his thoughts,

“Ow! What the fuck?! Asshole.”

“You were staring off again, I thought you were having a stroke or something.”

He glared at you, you responded with a sheepish smile and a shrug of your shoulders. He sighed, sulking in his seat, you couldn’t help but feel bad. It felt horrible to not remember anything, but you figured it must have felt worse finding out someone you’ve known for years one day forgot all about you.

“Do you really not remember me?” It wasn’t the first time he’s asked this.

It wasn’t your first time responding, “I don’t.”

Rex looked at you, studying your face before averting his eyes as soon as you looked back at him.

“I really am sorry.”

“It’s not–”

“I am.” You tried not to tear up over it, you tried not to feel horrible for the way his eyes seemed glossy every time he remembered you didn’t know him anymore. Turning your face away, you took a deep breath before continuing,

“I know it’s not my fault or anything but it feels that way you know?” Looking down at your hands playing with the thin sheet of the bed. “I want to remember, I do– but I just, can’t. I’m trying… trying to remember.” Holding your breath to keep yourself from tearing up.

His hands gripped the arms of the chair, itching to reach out and hold you.

“Deep down I know you meant something to me before, everything you tell me feels right. I trust you, and I want to keep trying to remember–”

Rex stood from his seat, arms reaching up to wrap around your body as he held you close to him. Chin rested on your shoulder as one of his hands pressed itself into the back of your head. Tears threatening to spill from your eyes, you tried to ignore the burning sensation before eventually succumbing to it.

“Everything tells me I know you, it’s all I feel.” His hand buried itself in your hair, pressing his face into your neck.

Blinking away the tears in your eyes before he could see them when he pulled away.

He let out a dry laugh, “Talk about being fuckin’ sappy, jeez.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so annoying.”

─ ୨୧ ─

You’d spend a couple more days recovering, well, you had already recovered a bit ago but Cecil was insistent you stay just to make sure you’d be fine. Which you reluctantly agreed to.

Tonight was your final night here however, the thought made you relieved. Having been long tired of the stiff hospital bed and a sheet that made you itchy sometimes, you were happy to finally go back home.

Rex made sure you were comfortable, asking over and over if you needed anything, to which you responded with an exasperated ‘yes’ the more he kept asking, kicking his leg with your foot whenever you could tell he was about to ask again.

He was dead set on staying, even on your last night here. The thought made you giggle to yourself at his “hidden” worry.

You snuggled into the blanket, burying the side of your face into the pillow. Eyes just barely open to be able to still see him. Watching as he watched you. It made you feel warm, trying not to make it obvious you were grinning as you peeked at him. He would have never been like this before.

Oh yes, you remembered. Your memory had finally come back just yesterday, yet you held off on telling him as an ‘I told you so’ for not listening to you.

Watching as he squirmed in his seat, uncomfortable and tired. You rolled your eyes and sighed, sitting up and scooting over in the bed.

“Come here.”

“What?”

You patted the space next to you, “Come here you dumbass, lay down.” He hesitated at first before standing up and scooting next to you, laying on his side, facing you. “God, you’re dumb.”

“Shut up, man.”

Pinching him roughly as your arms slithered to wrap around his neck, face pressed comfortably into his collar. Rex freezed up for a moment, until he eventually found his arms wrapping around your back, pressing you into him as he rested his chin on the top of your head.

You giggled to yourself, “You never would have done this before.”

He rolled his eyes, “You don’t even know that! I could have been a total sweetheart back then.”

Bursting into laughter, you held onto him tighter, “Yeah I do, total sweetheart my ass.”

“How? You don’t remember anything–”

You stayed silent, grinning against him as your legs entwined with his.

“Right? You still… don’t remember, right?” He asked, heart thumping against his ribcage. The sound of it comforting, making you giddy. Pulling your face away from him to look up at him, giving him a teasing smirk.

“Oh, you are… such a fucking dick.” He groaned, unable to hide the way his face softened. His hand made its way into your hair as he pressed you back into him. Relief washing over him as he realized you were finally back, really back. As he realized you finally remembered him.

Arms tightening around his neck, you pressed a soft peck to his cheek, noting the way one hand grasped onto your waist and wrapped around you tighter.

“You deserved it. Don’t blow me up next time, jackass.”

“I get it! Trust me, I won’t be doing that again any time soon.” He grumbled, pouting his lip.

Shrugging your shoulders, “I forgive you… obviously.”

Letting out a soft exhale through your nose, you listened intently to the way his heart slowed into a relaxed beat. Closing your eyes and slowly falling asleep in his embrace.

“...I–”

“I love you too, Rex.”

[wanderingmind867]

Of all the villains in these comics i've read for marvel, I feel like Loki is one of the more sympathetic ones. If only because of the fundamental nature of gods. Gods are like mortals, but they're also far more powerful. Honestly, Loki and Thor constantly fighting and having violent and theatrical power struggles may just be an ordinary thing for the gods. At least that's the way i'm tempted to look at it. Because it adds an extra layer of disconnect between asgard and midgard.

Unlike magneto or doctor doom or whatever, loki isn't someone who does evil because he himself had power mad goals of evil. He's just the god of evil. He's tied to this primordial concept, and so his life is that of a man embodying the concept of evil. Just as galactus eats planets simply because he must, loki does evil things because it's just a part of his nature. And i think that's interesting.

[golvio]

I imagine none of the Lotus Island Stone Tablets the linguist has us chasing after have anything to say about Ganondorf, because god forbid we humanize the guy who the whole game revolves around mercilessly beating the ass of. But could you imagine if the Chamberlain actually mentioned him? Even if it was just, “Och, that nastye man. The byggest bytche who eer dyyd lyf. So agaynste the wayes of Nature he, that he once shovved a whole limonne unto hyf mouf, juste to prove hy cud, upon whych he did collapse upon yon florre in great Agonye, refusing to spitte it outte for hyf own pryde, yet unayble to swallowe.”

[ikkaku-of-heart]

Of Bodice Rippers and Delightful Discoveries

(Ikkaku visits an old, used bookstore while in port, hoping to hunt down some classic bodice rippers to entertain herself with on the next voyage. What she finds is a new subgenre, complete with some unexpected - and likely unsuspecting - stars.)

The scent of the used bookstore was so different from the Polar Tang. Instead of steel and salt, Ikkaku breathed in the earthy, musty smell of paper and ink. She may have been an engineer, thriving among gears and pistons, but she had found a love of more organic materials like books.

In particular, hunting down unique bodice rippers.

“Looking for something in particular, dearie?” the proprietress asked, giving her a curious smile. She didn’t seem to mind that her new customer wore a pirate’s jolly roger on her boiler suit – business was business, and all who loved books were welcome.

“Got any classic bodice rippers?” Ikkaku asked, looking around. “I’m due for a long voyage.”

“Ahhh need something to entertain on lonely nights?” she replied knowingly. “Those happen to be my favorite. The back shelves are dedicated to those. Got a lot of newer publications, but there’s just nothing like the classics.”

Ikkaku nodded enthusiastically in agreement before heading off to peruse the back shelves. She’d read everything in her expansive collection at least twice, and she was in need of something new. Something to titillate her, but also torment her nakama when they dared to tease her. Books starring Fishmen and Zoan lovers had done the job for a while, but the boys were starting to become immune. That was a sure sign it was time to switch it up.

Pulling out books at random, she shook her head in disappointment. Many of the newer books just didn’t have the lovingly painted, elaborate covers that older, classic bodice rippers had. For all people said not to judge a book by its cover, in her mind, that was half the appeal. Getting to read a book with a hunky man in an open shirt embracing a beautiful woman often got her hilariously mortified or judgmental books. Occasionally she found books that starred two women, but those beautiful covers tended to be more understated and romantic, which sadly didn’t get quite the same reaction from her friends.

She had nearly given up, ready to throw in the towel and accept she’d just have to go through her library for a third time, when she struck gold. An old paperback novel peeked out from the stacks, and she could tell right away that the cover was that classic style she so loved. Tugging it out almost reverently, her gaze greedily ate up the image.

The woman was a beautiful, buxom nun, dressed in the classic black gown and habit, clutching a cross as she attempted to resist the charms of the man embracing her. Though, by the look on her face, she was failing spectacularly, eyes shut and head thrown back in pleasure. The man on the cover was what really drew the eye, however. The artist clearly put a little extra effort into him, like he was the main draw of the book. He towered over the woman in his arms, biceps bulging as they wrapped around her petite waist, his purple shirt open to show off a tantalizing glimpse of his hard pecs. His jaw and chin were chiseled and his cheekbones could have cut glass. Long hair as black as engine oil and smoke were pulled back in a sleek ponytail that dangled over his shoulder. His lips were curved in a devilish smirk, a long cigarette dangling tantalizingly between them.

The First Mate's Dangerous Temptation the elegant cursive of the title read. The tagline was just as cheesy; She devoted herself to God, but then a devilish pirate sailed into her life.

“Ok, you’re showing some promise,” Ikkaku chuckled, cracking open the book and flipping through the pages in hopes of finding a decent sex scene. Hopefully it lived up to the cover’s hype. Quickly, she found some smut, and eagerly she began to read.

“God really blessed you in the chest department, doll,” the pirate purred, his pectorals glistening with sweat as he pulled his pretty captive against him. The smell of the sea and tobacco paired beautifully with his masculine musk, and Chastity tried not to be taken in by way his deep voice rumbled like an earthquake, shaking her resolve. He was sin incarnate, and she mustn’t give in to the Devil’s servant.

“I’m blessed by His love every day. Perhaps you’d be similarly blessed if you ceased your sinful ways,” Chastity replied primly.

“I wouldn’t be much of a pirate if I were virtuous. Anyway, sin’s more fun. More pleasurable.” Benn gave a low chuckle before taking a long drag of his cigarette. He held the smoke in his lungs for a moment before exhaling, releasing it like a dragon. It suited him, considering the virgin damsel he held in his clutches. “And I haven’t had any complaints about my chest. I’ve seen you stare plenty.”

She gasped, outraged, though liquid hellfire shot down to the secret place between her thighs. A blush bloomed across her cheeks, and Chastity’s scolding reply died on her lips as the burly first mate released her, only to drop to his knees before her. The cigarette smoldered on the ground beside them, the thin trail of smoke even headier than the church’s incense. She attempted to step back, but a big hand wrapped around her hip, keeping her in place as he hoisted up her skirts, exposing her knickers and pale thighs. “What are you doing? This is improper!”

He chuckled again before he began peppering kisses along the smooth, untouched skin. Tongue and teeth joined his sensual lips, licking, sucking, and biting the tender flesh without a shred of shame or remorse. “Showing you what a man should really be doing on his knees,” he growled, a panther that had concerned his delicious prey and was planning to take its time devouring it. “God can’t make you scream like I can.”

Gasping again, the nun buried her fingers in his jet-black hair as his mouth delved into the apex of her thighs. Her knickers had already been growing wet just from being in his presence, but now they were soaked in anticipation and the saliva from his tongue. It stoked tantalizingly against her pearl, and Chastity felt her knees wobble almost as unsteadily as her resolve to remain pure.

“Ah! Beckman!”

“Wait,” Ikkaku gasped, staring at the name, then flipping back to the front cover. The man on the front was at least a decade younger than the wanted poster she’d seen, but if she replaced the black ponytail with a silver one, added a few years and scars to that chiseled face, and a purple cape…

“Holy shit. What’s Benn Beckman doing on a romance novel cover?!”

This was utterly insane. Of course the first mate of the Red Hair Pirates was hot, both in his youth and now. He was known as a playboy, too, with admirers and lovers across the Grand Line. But the star of a bodice ripper? It wasn’t even trying to hide his identity!

Flipping the paperback over, Ikkaku scanned the back cover, looking for clues. The publication date was fifteen years ago, and it was apparently part of a series. An extensive one, from the look of things.

Pirate romance novels. Ikkaku shouldn’t have been surprised they existed. Outlaws like them weren’t exactly protected by copyright laws or could make cases against libel. And people did so love their forbidden fruit, but not everyone had the guts to actually proposition a pirate. So no wonder someone decided to make a buck off of the fantasy. The real question was, did Benn Beckman know?

Curiosity piqued, Ikkaku glanced along the shelves and quickly found another book by the same author. Once again the cover was lovingly and beautifully painted. The woman was once again beautiful, though this time her generous cleavage was on full display thanks to a low-cut blouse and cinched corset. She was being embraced by yet another muscular man. He was shirtless and his trousers hung loose, threatening to slip down his hips to expose himself. The cocky smirk and come hither expression made it clear he had nothing but impure intentions with the woman he was holding. One arm was beneath her thighs and backside, hoisting her up into the air, while the other held the ropes dangling from the sails of his ship. For a moment, the two arms threw her off, but it was soon clear by the blood red hair and three familiar scars over his left eye that this was, indeed, Red Haired Shanks.

The title was once again in fancy cursive but this time didn’t bother to hide the star’s identity. Ravished by the Red Haired Captain – She yearned for adventure on the high seas. What she got was unfathomable pleasure in the captain’s quarters.

“Damn,” Ikkaku muttered, once again seeking out a sex scene. She absolutely needed to know what the deal was with these books. “This must’ve been early in his career, but he was already building a fanbase. And probably didn’t get a single berri in royalties. Poor bastard.”

Cassandra gasped as she was bent over the bar counter, heaving chest pressed across the cool, polished wood decadently. Shanks’ left had splayed across her back, keeping her in place as he pressed his throbbing member against her pert bottom.

“That’s a good lass,” he murmured, rolling his hips so she could get the full understanding of just what her lovely curves did to him. He may have been a mighty pirate captain, but he was only a man, after all. And there was only so much a man like him could take. “You’ve been temptin’ me all day, serving drinks while shaking that ass and fluttering your lashes at all the customers. But now you’re gonna get a reminder that you’re my pretty wench.”

“I wasn’t—Ah!—tying to tempt you,” she insisted, though the mewl of pleasure at the feeling of his thick mast prodding at her most secret cavern through her skirts made that difficult to believe. The truth was, she hadn’t consciously been trying to tease him, but it was hard not to sway her hips a little more when she felt his eyes on them. Nor could she avoid lowering her neckline a bit more to relieve herself of some of the heat his presence sparked inside her.

Another gasp escaped Cassandra’s plump lips as she felt Shanks pull up her skirts to expose her wet and waiting netherlips, the cool air kissing them gently. “No knickers? Now you can’t tell me you didn’t plan this.”

“I just forgot to put them on this morning—”

Her excuse was interrupted by a firm smack to her buttock, the sting a delicious pain even as the tavern maid yelped in surprise and outrage.

“You’re lying to me. If you really want to come aboard my ship and sail with me, you’re going to have to learn to be honest with your captain,” Shanks growled sensually, trailing his fingers across the bright red welt his big, rough hand left behind. “Now let’s try again. Why aren’t you wearing knickers, Miss Cassandra?”

He squeezed the soft meat of her shapely rear end, fingers dancing dangerously close to her oh-so-wet entrance, and Cassandra knew she was done for. How could she resist the sexual magnetism of such a charming pirate?

“Because I wanted you to be able to fuck me whenever you pleased, Captain Shanks!” she cried, and was swiftly rewarded by the feeling of his thick rod plunging into her without hesitation.

“Wooooow,” Ikkaku mumbled to herself, snickering slightly at the writing, though she could admit that the scene was still fairly hot due to Red-Haired Shanks being the star. “Gods, I wonder if he knows this exists. What would he think of this? Would he and Beckman compare books?”

Another thought came to her, and once more she began looking through the books. Who else has been featured in these?

She got her answer, a surprised and delighted laugh bubbling up in her throat upon finding the next book in the series. This time, the heroine was clearly a Marine, her white uniform tastefully disheveled from a struggle as she was pinned against the wall by her opponent’s hips, though the way her long leg was wrapped around the man’s waist, it was clear this was a fight that was meant to shift into something more pleasurable. Of course, the man in question was unmistakable, even without his trademark long coat. After all, his pointed sideburns and goatee, along with those golden, piercing eyes, were nearly as iconic as the wide brimmed feathered hat on his head. Yoru was strapped to his shirtless back with a leather harness that was probably rather impractical, even if it did accent his back muscles nicely. But what was most striking was the sensual grin on his lips, curled in both arousal and amusement.

Prey of the Hawk-Eyed Hunter – Her mission was to apprehend him, but he takes her heart prisoner instead.

“He’s smiling? Well now I know this is a fantasy,” Ikkaku quipped, recalling the few times she’d seen him at the Warlord meetings. The man was grim and antisocial at best, and the few times she’d heard him speak, his comments had been bored and biting. Honestly, Ikkaku felt those made the otherwise irritating and dull meetings more entertaining.

For the third time Ikkaku cracked open a bodice ripper, eyes glittering with mischievous delight as she greedily took in the pages.

“You keep trying to fly away from me, little dove,” a deep, accented voice purred from the doorway. Calliope froze, the incriminatingly wide-open window to her bedroom making it undeniable that she had once again attempted to escape his fortress hideaway. “And dressed so indecently, too. Didn’t your superiors teach you about proper dress protocol?”

The Marine captain spun around, defiant even as she trembled a bit under his stare. Heavens above, those yellow eyes were always so intense. It didn’t matter if he was talking to her, fighting her, or staring at her in silence, they made him appear like he wished to devour her.

Calliope’s tongue darted out to wet her lips nervously, and that gaze flicked down to watch the movement. Heat shot between her legs while her nipples hardened against the thin blouse that was her only barrier between her skin and the cold air.

Golden eyes swept down her shapely figure, down to her chest, her slim torso, her bare thighs, her long legs, and then traveled back up again to meet her gaze, lingering on the comely flush that colored her cheeks. A devious smirk curled his lips as he stalked towards her. “Perhaps I should chain you to the bed, as your cage is proving insufficient.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Calliope insisted, attempting to strike him, to make an attack against the infamous Marine Hunter she had been tasked with arresting, but he deftly caught her wrist with speed only an expert swordsman could manage. He snatched her other wrist before it could even think to lash out before flinging them both onto the bed, pinning the smaller woman’s hips beneath his muscular thighs. He adjusted his grip to lock both of her narrow wrists in one palm, freeing up his right hand while keeping her trapped beneath him, helpless.

“You are my prisoner. My prize. I’ll do as I please with you.” As if to prove his point, he trailed his long, calloused fingers down the soft, delicate skin of her throat, down her collarbone, over her thundering heart, before cupping a full breast. Calliope released a shuddering breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding at his bold touch. Why did this murderer’s touch inspire such feelings of desire in her?

She attempted to buck him off of her, but he wouldn’t budge. In fact, he let out a husky moan in response. Surprised, she looked down between their bodies to find the telltale bulge of his manhood straining against his leather trousers. “Is…is that a sword in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” she quipped, attempting to hide her mortification and, worse, arousal.

Alas, Mihawk could detect her desire like a shark smells blood in the water and was not fooled. Instead, he laughed before capturing her lips in a fierce, dominating kiss. Calliope attempted to struggle, to resist, but his sensual tongue and teasing teeth coaxed her lips to part for him. His tongue delved between them, conquering her hot, moist cavern, giving no quarter and showing no mercy, leaving her gasping and flushed when he finally pulled away so she could breathe.

“Oh, I’ll be very happy to see you writhing and moaning beneath me as I make you a sheath for my most powerful sword,” he purred, nipping at her throat as he rolled his hips against her, swollen member growing harder at the friction the motion caused.

“Tonight, I’m claiming you completely, my dove. No more escape attempts – I doubt you’ll be able to walk after I’m through with you. And even then, I might just keep you impaled on my cock for good measure.”

“Ha! I don’t remember Mihawk being even half that talkative at Warlord meetings,” Ikkaku snickered, though there was a faint dusting of a blush on her cheeks.

Damn it. These books were over-the-top and flowery, but they were raunchy enough that she could completely understand the appeal and wanted to read more. Besides, weren’t over-the-top, ridiculous bodice rippers what she came in here for in the first place? Her fellow Hearts would be utterly mortified if she started reading aloud sex scenes starring a Yonko, his first mate, or the World’s Greatest Swordsman.

Plus, she needed to prove these existed. There was no way any of the guys would believe her on just her word. It was too crazy! So it was important that she buy all three books so she could prove they existed. And what if she ever ran into the stars themselves? Didn’t they deserve to know they had starred in fictional sexual encounters and weren’t paid a dime for it? Informing them was the moral thing to do in that case. She may have been a pirate, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t do a good deed.

Yes. That was totally why she was buying them and not because, despite herself, they were rather titillating. She would simply be reading them for blackmail and tormenting purposes. Not because any of the three men were quite the hotties in their prime.

Or in present day, but she certainly wouldn’t admit that aloud.

“Find what you were looking for, young lady?” the shopkeeper asked as she rang up Ikkaku’s purchase. She smiled down at the books, clearly pleased with her choice. “Like I said, nothing beats the classics.”

“You’re not wrong,” Ikkaku chuckled, giving her a curious smile. “These, ah, seem to be part of a series. You don’t happen to know if there are any starring women? Like, a female protagonist and a sexy lady pirate as the lovers?” She tried not to get her hopes up, but today had been full of surprises. Perhaps her bisexual prayers would be answered.

The shopkeeper gave a knowing smile. “Come back tomorrow. I know for a fact that I have a copy of  Seduced by the Ice Witch somewhere around here. Whitey Bay does quite a good job making the heroine swoon and tremble. Not that I can blame her in the least.”

The engineer’s smile could have illuminated the darkest ocean as she nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll take it, along with any others you might dig up!” she exclaimed as she handed over her berri, already eager to start her newest book series and method of messing with her dear nakama.

Though, she had already decided that Seduced by the Ice Witch would be kept to herself.

[pinkninja236]

advertising breaker whiskey to everyone I know by telling them how the wlw ship is sooooo fucked up, you should listen to it

[gaybearwedding]

hi hi hello i have been gone forever due to various reasons such as “work” and “mental illness” and “having developed a kpop hyperfixation that has been occupying most of my attention recently” but i need everyone to know that i saw off book live twice last week (in philly with a friend and then in nyc with my girlfriend) and it was truly so everything. i didn’t get many pictures but i did get a few and none of them are very good but one of them is of jess’ amazing stool balancing act and that’s all i need really

[eerna]

crashes my fist against the table. the way Ali has been Nahri's weakness since the beginning, no matter the nature of their bond. Ghassan saw her once and went "oh yes she will adore my famously unlikable son which will make my exploitation easier". she can't help but let herself be led by his optimism and dreams of justice and he is so happy someone appreciates him the way he is that he just holds onto her even stronger. no amount of ancestral hatred and prejudice and distrust could compete with that chaotic resonance and everyone around them could only stop and stare in horror

[skitskatdacat63]

More matador!Fernando! Ferrari this time :D (I can't help myself.....)

- facial hair

+ closeups

I really wanted the vibe of this Nando pic, I think I did pretty well??

[pinkestmenace]

Thoughts on Dark Meta Knight

A continuation of 'Thoughts on Shadow Kirby'. This is a long one!

TL;DR: I first talk about his relation to Taranza and Sectonia, then comes the fic I 'accidentally' wrote, then I talk about his (mirror) abilities and relation to Meta Knight (or rather, his inherited memories.)

Have you ever noticed how whenever people talk about the whole Dark Meta Knight/Dimension Mirror/Taranza/Corrupted Sectonia issue, it's always "Taranza must hate DMK so much!" and never "DMK must hate Taranza so much!" or even "Why did Joronia/Sectonia keep a magical mirror that clearly oozed bad vibes?" (Note: I'm neither saying Taranza is a poor uwu boy who did nothing wrong nor that he is evil incarnate. He didn't know DMK was in there nor that the mirror had lingering corruption. I am however saying he was a fool for stealing an important magical artifact! All three were hurt here.) I mean, come on. Sectonia is an individual with agency. You're telling me she just placidly accepted this whole situation and only gets to serve as an "Evil queen needs to die!" and "Woe is Taranza, his beloved is dead!" plot device? She could have been corrupted/replaced by her own reflection! Maybe she was as interested in studying DMK/this weird danger orb in 'her' mirror as he was in corrupting her.

That is, if he did corrupt her. Who's to say he wanted that? Or had the ability to, other than by speaking? We've heard nothing about him having corrupting magic. Besides, what would he gain from it? Sectonia could've already been somewhat unhinged before she got the mirror and this was just the beginning of a domino effect. Remember, the mirror you fight him in in Triple Deluxe seems to be the one that was in the middle of the Central Circle, not the entrance of the Mirror World. That's the one Dark Mind was hiding out in and judging by how destroyed it still looks inside it's also the most likely place for any corruption to linger. (Luckily for the other inhabitants, I'd say. Not so lucky for him or poor Shadow, who in DMK's absence was likely left alone to defend the Mirror World and therefore grew more agressive like we see him in other games. He had no allies and no choice but to learn to fight.) I think that Shadow spawned when Kirby first entered the mirror, but DMK was likely around at least a little longer than that, judging by how he seems to have a pretty good grasp on his abilities already.

So. Since Triple Deluxe is clearly inspired by fairy tales, (Consider the Dreamstalk/beanstalk, a palace in the sky and a wicked beauty-obsessed queen with a literal magic mirror!) why not spin a little tale of our own?

I want you to imagine being Dark Meta Knight for a moment.

Mirror, Mirror, From the Sky — Who's the Wickedest and Why?

Once upon a time a dark force secretly infested your world. Depending on how long you've been around, you either spawned as a flawed clone, or you got to feel yourself being corrupted. You may not even know who you are, other than what the wisps of your inherited memories and skills tell you. Either way, the heydays of good fortune, friends and fair weather are nothing but a burning memory to you.

Dark Mind, the force calls itself and it takes an interest in you, since it could use a strong henchman. Now you have this flaming eyeball breathing down your neck, playing at being your master and ordering you around. Tsch. Do you dance like a pathetic little puppet? Do you plead with it using the fancy words you find on your tongue, but did not learn yourself? Do you obey to save your own skin, or resist and risk having your mind broken and hollowed out further? Do you have it in you to become a double agent? You are a scared toddler who only just learned how to walk. You are a hardened knight who has no patience for this. The armour you wear shows traces of battles you haven't fought. You cling to it in preparation for what's to come.

It sends you to go remove some obstacles. A pink child and your own doppelganger. Fueled by bitter resentment and childish petulance you dare to bend your orders just slightly. Rather than rend the child into pieces, you refract him into four. Rather than sending your doppelganger back to his maker, you lock him in with yours and break the mirror to prevent his escape. (As well as Dark Mind's escape, that is.) Your master is angry. That's fine. You're already wrong and broken and don't give a crap.

Eventually the child and his refractions fix and enter the mirror and your master gives you an ultimatum. Twice it told you to get rid of the brat and twice you have failed! Now, to prove your loyalty you must put your life on the line. Beat the brat. At any cost. Surrender is not an option! You shed the veneer and take out your frustration on the child. But he's too strong. You can feel your body give out! You remember how to beg. "Master, please, I can't take any more!" It's no use. Its fiery gaze scorches you, it widens the cracks in your mind and forces you to continue, miserable marionette that you are.

You shatter and your consciousness fractures. Where did you go so wrong? Why did this have to happen to you? What will become of that strange charcoal child you saw stalking you? You want to go home. That home isn't yours. What does your counterpart think? Like the allegory of the prisoners and the shadows on the cave wall you don't know more than what little you can infer. His flickering gaze is unreadable. There is no cave. You are the shadow. You have no idea what philosophy is.

??? days later you somehow wake up. You get your bearings. You're still in this ruined miniature dimension, but your master is gone. You're alone. Tsch. Figures the brat and your blue bastard of a counterpart would abandon you. What's wrong with them?! (What's wrong with you? Are you really that disposable? Maybe they didn't know you still had life left in you either. Did they mourn for you?) At least the mirror portal is right there. You'll go back to the Central Circle, find something to eat and then you'll plot your revenge against the world that failed to welcome you! You just have to step out...

...into a large bedroom. You look around. Fancy furnishings that would befit a palace. A breathtaking view of the rising sun, which drapes the room in purples and oranges. It hurts your eyes. You look down. A vanity? Where the Shards—

You don't get time to think before a piercing shriek rends the air. You look to your left and see a strange spider-like creature charging at you, wielding twin rapiers! You quickly leap out of the way and draw your own sword.

The woman stops in front of you, clad in a simple but refined silk nightgown, her four unoccupied hands balled into tight fists. She stares you down with her four front eyes. Is this spider as afraid of you as you are of her? She's Princess Joronia, you soon learn. She received the mirror as a gift.

She sympathises with you and offers you a cup of herbal tea to calm your nerves. You've never had tea, (not-you remembers the taste) but by the Mirror's mercy do you know you're thirsty! You accept it, if only to buy yourself time to figure out what's going on and come up with a way to escape with the mirror. The tea soothes you, although it has a strange aftertaste and Joronia's smile is gentle, if a bit too practised. Her gleaming upper eyes gaze patiently into yours. She doesn't drink. You're tired, so tired.

The next day you wake up inside the mirror and try to leave again. Joronia didn't seem so bad. Maybe you can convince her to let you return the mirror! You find it's been magically sealed.

"Oh, don't worry," says 'Joronia' through the glass, her eyes and smile just a little darker and haughtier than they were yesterday, "it's only a safety precaution until we get to know each other better." But months later she still hasn't let you leave with the mirror. Instead, she's been staring into it more and more, fussing endlessly over her make-up and increasingly ostentatious outfits. She laments to you as if you are nothing but a pet she can vent to freely. "Uhuhuhu~! Didn't I look simply unacceptable before? I just couldn't stand my dull reflection. Tell me how gorgeous I am! Then I might even feel generous enough to feed you."

You grow bitter. How trapped you are! Behind you is the ruined hellscape where you were broken and humiliated. In front of you is an increasingly deranged self-obsessed woman who you're forced to ingratiate yourself to for scraps. Tsch! You are caged and seething! The day you find the person who subjected you to this your sword will taste blood! Soon your vibe arsenic joins the maddening sulfuric stench that abhorrent eyeball left behind. Your mind and the mirror grow ever darker in a vicious cycle. It's been years. You yearn for sights you have only seen in dreams. You cannot die.

The reborn and remade Queen Sectonia doesn't care. She's too busy solidifying her power and enhancing her own grotesque beauty to pay attention to the machinations of naughty little strays. Your sharpened tongue pleases her just enough to spare you and coax out news of the outside world. You are her obedient pet. The keeper of her innermost secrets. More loyal than her advisor. You hone yourself and your blade when she's not looking.

So when Sectonia dies and the seal goes with her, you are ready. You don't care who's on the other side. You. Only. Want. REVENGE.

* * * * *

Headcanon time!

I see DMK as leaning into using his mirror abilities, not so much because he wants to prove himself superior to Meta Knight, but because that's something only HE can do. Something he 'earned', not inherited. He wants to be the best at something without needing help.

When he spawned he already knew how to speak, move and wield his sword. Or rather, the second he attempted to do any of these things he 'remembered' how to do them.

Wouldn't it be funny and tragic if so much of his life consists of discovering skills he didn't know he had, that belong to someone who isn't quite him? What surprises will his memory give him today? Amnesiac roulette.

Imagine: he's just idly fidgeting with a sheet of paper and looks down to see he's accidentally folded a perfect little origami crane. He crushes the crane. Tsch. Another skill he didn't earn! (Later he secretly learns to fold something Meta Knight hasn't folded before, just so he can say he made the skill his own. He will deny this.)

He didn't know he had the ability to mend his cape. Yet when he found needle and thread his hands traced the movements with practised ease. He refuses to mend his cape and claims it fits his rough-and-tough aesthetic. (He collects scraps and quilts a cozy blanket for his hideout. He claims to have found it in the trash.)

He comes across a book in a language he has never seen before. He can read it! The contents make little sense to him. He tries writing, but discovers his handedness is opposite to Meta Knight's. Ink smudges his left glove as he adjusts. (It shouldn't matter. He's ambidextrous! Try as he might, he still cannot draw or write with his right hand.)

Infodump about memory function incoming! (TL;DR: there are several types of memories, some about life events, some about sensations or skills.) I hope I can explain this correctly using an example.

Imagine you're going for a stroll in the park. You don't have to think consciously about every movement you make because you already know how to walk. You decide where to go and your brain handles the details automatically. (Procedural memory. This is what let him immediately move and fight.)

You spot someone walking a dog. Your brain goes: "Dog!!!" You don't have to analyse every feature of the animal to know this because the holistic concept of "Dog" in your brain immediately lights up and couples it to the language part of you to remember the correct name. (Semantic memory. This let him recognise the world and understand speech.)

You consider petting it. Your hand experiences the ghost of fur underneath. It just stopped raining, so your nose anticipates the wet dog smell as well. (Sensory memory. He gets whiffs of sensations and tastes he hasn't experienced himself.)

You approach the dog. Suddenly you realise you've seen this dog before! It was last week and when you pet it wrong it snapped at you. You remembered a specific event. (Episodic memory. He didn't get this one and therefore doesn't remember Meta Knight's life. He has to puzzle out what his 'original' is like from the other remembered scraps he got.)

[tickletastic]

IM SO FU KING EXICITED FOR JAYROY!! IVE BEEN DEVOURING JAYROY FICS ON AO3!!! SO GLAD THERES GONNA BE A NEW FIC AND UR WRITING IT!!

OMFG same (send me your faves 👀 )

Glad you're excited! the fic is loooooooong but i'm excited to post it!

i had this cute idea of roy sitting between jason's legs while he's reading and my brain told me i had to write it

[legendoftherisingtide]

im sure someone’s said it but i love when crowley and aziraphale blend and mix and become those shades of grey.

like obviously the famous switch in s1 gave aziraphale the freedom to go feral and he was fully gonna kill a kid that one time (and also prepared to let kids die in s2 but i will just believe that was just his faith in crowley).

but i love the subtler times. when they were raising adam, they switched roles in a way. you would expect aziraphale to take the nurturing nanny role and we see that crowley loves plants and is the only thing he has with him wherever he lives. but they chose to be the other.

i just love the influence they have on each other. crowley is so blatant with his influence across their history: pushing aziraphale to think critically and challenge his views. but aziraphale’s kindness and understanding allows crowley to be more open and vulnerable.

they have spent their whole existences pretending like they aren’t all the other has. but in reality, it is hard to see where one ends and the other begins.