#it doesn’t even have to be a Good Explanation

[al0velyuniverse]

IDiVIDUAL HEADCANONS ABT THE LAST ASK😓😓😓

I think this is the same anon as the one who asked about the drunk 141 x reader😭😭

Coming home drunk

Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish

Johnny is a mess when he comes home from drinking with the boys. Hands and lips all over you while you try to help him get undressed and into some sort of pajamas. Your face is being covered in kissed while you try to help him get his shirt off, whispers of “I luv ya my bonnie lass” when his lips are close enough to your ear. He never fails to make you a flustered mess

When you finally get him into bed with you he’s sprawled on top of you like a dog. Johnny tries to undress you but falls asleep halfway through. His grip is inescapable too, good luck trying to wiggle out of it until he’s properly awake.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

Kyle hates coming home drunk. He’s usually just as much of a mess, if not worse, than Johnny. He usually doesn’t make it home until after you’re fast asleep. He doesn’t want to wake you up so he’s doing his best to be quiet. The thing about Kyle is, he’s one of those people who only thinks he’s being quiet. In reality you’re being stirred awake by the sound of the door slamming shut and his boots clattering to the floor as he clumsily makes his way to the couch.

Your sleepy voice asking him what he’s doing startles him halfway off of the couch. You’re given a profuse apology for being so loud as Kyle drags you onto the couch with him, you curling up in his lap like a cat. When you both wake up in the morning he’s keeping you trapped with him for at least an hour. “you’re the best hangover cure there is” is the only excuse he’s got.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

When Simon gets too drunk out with the boys you end up having to drive out to pick him up. You’re summoned on the phone by Soap, you can hear your boyfriend yelling in the background about wanting his Dovie. He’s insistent on demanding your presence, complaining that his lovie isn’t there. However when you show up at the bar and try to give him a kiss he gently pushes you away. “you’re a pretty bird but I got a missus at home, wife won’t be too happy to see you trynna kiss me like this” This would have been sweet except you weren’t married. Johnny helps you escort Simon to your car and buckled in without much protest, he’s muttering something about ‘ruining the surprise’ as he helps.

When you finally get home Simon locks you out of the bedroom “can’t have the wife finding you in bed with me when she gets home” he yells from the other side of the door. You end up on the couch with a huff, you can’t even really be that mad though, at least he’s dedicated to you. Simon finds you the next morning and scoops you up to bring you back to your bedroom “hell you doin out there dove?”

One embarrassing explanation later Simon is hiding his face and swearing off drinking.

John Price

John holds his liquor better than any of his teammates so he doesn’t get too drunk when he’s out with the boys. However when he gets home and pours himself a glass of scotch you know you’re going to be there for a while. He always pulls you onto his lap when he drinks, enjoying the way your skin serves as a sweet chaser on his lips as he sips his drink. His beard always tickles you and makes you giggle and squirm. You’re stuck there as he pours glass after glass, giving you little sips occasionally until you’ve got a small buzz.

John caries to you to bed, the scotch making you oh so sleepy. He helps you slip into his favorite nightgown and strips to his boxers before getting nice and comfy with you in bed. His big hands grip and grope you, not in a sexual way, he just likes feeling your soft skin under his cracked and calloused fingers. Not matter how drunk he was the night before you’re always the one to wake up to a full breakfast with all your favorites.

[duckarchives]

Does Ghost have a wife?

Look, I really don't care about shipps, ship whatever you want, be it canon x canon or oc x canon, I'm just here to explain some misinformation that is being used to attack ghost x soap and some ocs.

First of all, it's important to understand that these women they call Ghost's wives came from the comics, even though Ghost's comic is iconic, they were never considered canon by the writers, just fanservice.

Now about this Ghost comic, due to a translation error and misinterpretation, some people say that Ghost's sister-in-law is his wife. I don't think he would be so bad as to flirt with his own brother's wife, especially since he did everything he could to make his brother quit drugs and have a happy family.

(I couldn't find pictures of her, but her name is Beth Riley.)

The second character is Mara, both are just friends and this is clear in several moments.

“But Ghost was sad when she got hurt.” Yes, that’s something he would feel for anyone he considers a close friend. Honestly, calling Mara Ghost’s wife sounds like that “opposite-sex friends don’t exist” nonsense and it even diminishes her to just his wife, not the soldier she is.

(Mara in mw1 reboot and her in warzone comics.)

Now the last one is Urban Tracker, she was supposed to be the cute poster girl who would attract more audience like Seraphine in lol or dva in overwatch, but that didn’t work and she ended up being discarded. She started being called Ghost’s wife because of a photo of her being carried by him, but in fact that’s a montage because in the original photo it’s another soldier.

In reality the explanation for this is quite simple, Ghost is a famous character, so why not use him to give fame to the copy of Seraphine? But the truth is that they never had any kind of relationship and she was completely erased when she was discarded, so canonically Ghost doesn’t even know/remember who she is.

“But there are some of their art pieces that were posted on the official cod Twitter profile and some people who work with cod liked their fanarts.”

In fact, those pieces were reposts of fanarts, just another attempt by them to make her famous. In fact, if we take the fanart likes into account, then logically Ghost x Jade (Sleepypotato OC) and Ghost x Soap would be canons.

(Her default skin)

I didn't come here to fight over ships or anything like that, I created this account to talk about lore, ask questions and debunk misinformation about cod. Now, if you fight over ships or attack people for that reason, find something to do, getting off the internet sometimes is good.

[starstruck-des]

Hank redesign

With explanation ofc

Originally we all know Hank in madness combat to be pretty blunt,intimidating he doesn’t even really need to speak much because in a sense his stature and presence envokes fear but I don’t really see that when I’m looking at this :

(Minus grunt form don’t @ me on that I did this for a school assignment)

As you can see I did keep many aspects of his outfit intact but added things I felt made a bit more stylish to Hank if looking good was somthing he cared about

Clearly few colors can be seen in the madcom

Universe so main colors I can take from it is red,yellow,and probably different shades of gray. So I messed around with it by giving him a red mock neck with dog tags comming from it , plus a chain connecting the collar of his coat , the inners of red I felt would be more of a personal creative choice, and the jacket itself felt a bit bland so I made a few embroidery ideas along with the spine and shoulder blade design (but I am not making bones right anymore)

To continue

I took the ribbon holding their jacket by the waist and made it red accompanying some burns at the ends because of how many explosions this grunt been through or who knows burning buildings, same with his jacket,you can’t expect to keep a coat THAT NICE while handling knives and guns and whatnot the diamond shaped knee pads came from when I cosplayed Hank myself and I found them to be quite comfortable,so I expect for other safety purposes that he’d have em..

The boots are just boring grey ones but calf height with the pants tucked into them just to keep the grey footed grunt illusion alive

And if you zoom into his goggles it looks a bit like a crosshaire

Why? Because I feel he wouldn’t have to worry about looking so close at the gun to get a better shot when you already have a guide right at your eye

“Oh but Des what’s with the red beads on his gloves?”

That, I wanna say is just red rope holding it by the wrist so

Hey don’t slip like a bracelet

And finally the studs are un even cus someone stabbed him

In the shoulder causing one to come off so 2 on one side one on the other

Any other questions about the design don’t be afraid to come

To my ask box !💥💥💥💥 I don’t bite

Thank youuu!!

[solarhysm]

DUST OF US #DRABBLE - JUNGKOOK THINKS YOU HATE HIM

> synopsis: 7 years ago Y/N broke Jungkook’s heart when she decided to end their relationship without an explanation. When they meet again at a friend's wedding, after almost a decade, Jungkook needs answers to move on.

> pairing: Jungkook x reader

> genre: romance, ex to lovers au

> warnings: explicit languages, violence, smut, cheating, nsfw, angst, +18 minors dni !!

> word count: 1.3k

MAIN STORY HERE.

*french writer, i apologize in advance for my awful english!

AGE: 17 years old.

You have become distant over the last few weeks. Jungkook has grown accustomed to having you around constantly: at lunchtime, in class, and even walking home together. But it’s been two or three weeks since you’ve started avoiding him, finding excuses.

At first, he didn’t say much—maybe you were really busy. But then he caught you with other friends. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t hurt. Over the past year, everything in his life had improved with you in it. But now, he feels like he’s bothering you every time he tries to talk. The worst part is that you keep talking to Jimin, even having lunch with him—but not Jungkook.

“I don’t understand…” Jungkook mumbles, stabbing his bowl of rice with his chopsticks as he gazes at you from afar, sitting with your friend Hyesun. You seem so happy, laughing at something she said, oblivious to his gaze when you could usually spot him anywhere. “Did I say something wrong?” he asks Jimin, who tilts his head to look at you too, sighing.

“We never know what that girl has in her mind,” Jimin says, chewing his food. “It’s not you, Kookie. You’re the kindest guy I know.”

“Then why is she avoiding me?” Jungkook frowns, making Jimin sigh and taking a sip of his water.

“Maybe she figured out that you’re madly in love with her and doesn’t feel the same?” Jimin suggests. Jungkook freezes at the words, feeling his cheeks burn.

“I’m not— I don’t have feelings for her…” He mumbles, his gaze dropping to his tray.

“Oh please”, Jimin rolls his eyes, putting down his chopsticks. “You’re a sap for her. You buy her favorite snacks, wait for her after class even when yours ended two hours earlier, and you even go to the library with her. You never stepped foot in that place before meeting her.”

“I’m just a good friend.” Jungkook frowns, trying to deny Jimin’s words.

“You turned down every girl who hit on you this year, Kookie.” Jimin arches a brow as Jungkook whines, throwing his head back, before hiding his face in his hands. He knows that Jimin is right. He hates that Jimin can read him like an open book.

“Do you really think… She’s avoiding me because of that?” Jungkook asks quietly, his face still buried in his hands. Jimin sighs, staring at his friend.

He’s been following the development of your friendship since the start. Gently, Jimin wraps his fingers around Jungkook’s wrist and pulls his hands down.

“Hey,” Jimin says softly, “She’d be stupid to avoid you just for that. You’re a great guy, Kookie. A little slow and dumb, but not in a bad way.” He teases with a smirk, making Jungkook smile slightly.

“I don’t want to lose her. If she doesn’t feel the same way, it’s okay. I can deal with a little heartbreak. But not… not having her in my life.” Jungkook admits, and Jimin’s lips curve in a soft smile. “I’ll talk to her.”

Taking a deep breath, Jungkook wipes his hands on his pants. He’s been standing outside your door for fifteen minutes. He was full of courage on the way to your building, but now it's slowly crumbling. What’s he supposed to say? Are you avoiding me because I’m in love with you? He cringes at the thought. No, he can’t say that. Exhaling softly, he knocks at your door before he could chicken out.

Your father opens the door, his slight frown shifting into a smile. He knows Jungkook. He actually loves Jungkook; he is a respectful and well-mannered.

“What’s up, son?” Your father grins as Jungkook swallows hardly, his hands sweaty. He discreetly wipes them again.

“Hello sir. Is… Y/N here?” He asks with a small voice.

“Come in, she’s in her room.” His father nods, stepping aside as Jungkook bows politely before entering. Once his shoes are off, he heads to your room. Your door is open, you’re lying on the floor, humming a song and drawing in your notebook.

You sit up and frown when you see Jungkook standing in your doorframe, still outside the room, because he didn’t have time to knock. You always seem to sense his presence whenever he's near. He called it your ‘spider-sense’.

“Kook?” You ask, getting up clumsily, feeling awkward. “What are you doing here?”

“I… uh… I need to talk to you.” He mumbles as you walk over, gesturing for him to come in before looking outside at your father, who’s smirking at you. You roll your eyes and close the door behind you.

“I’m kinda busy,” you say, avoiding his gaze, with your hands on your hips. “Make it quick.”

Jungkook's heart clenches painfully at the way you're acting. He hates it. He misses you.

“Y/N…” He starts, tilting his head to force you to look at him. “Are you avoiding me?”

“What— No!” You immediately shake your head.

“Please, don’t… sugarcoat it. If you don’t want to be friends anymore, that’s okay. But just tell me. I’ll respect your decision, but—"

“I’m not avoiding you, Kook!” You sigh, your stomach twisting uncomfortably.

“We haven't had a real conversation in weeks. You have time for everyone but me. You can’t even look at me right now.” He frowns as you finally lift your eyes from your feet to meet his gaze. “You know what? Sorry, it was stupid of me to bother you. I get it.” He clenches his jaw and steps back, turning toward the door.

He needs to get out fast. Jungkook has always been emotional. He can’t help it. The last thing he wants is for you to see him cry over this. He knows you wouldn’t judge him. But it still hurts.

 “What do you want me to say?” You bark, fists clenched at your sides as you stare at the back of his neck. You hate his chestnut haircut—you’ve told him multiple times. But that didn't stop you from falling for that idiot.

Your words make him freeze, his fingers still on the doorknob. He stares at the chipped paint of your door, unsure what to do, waiting for you to continue.

“I…” you start, shaking your head. “This is stupid.”

“You what?” He asks, not moving. But when you don’t reply, he nods, his grip tightening on the doorknob. “Alright…” He sighs, ready to leave.

“I like you.” You say in one breath, scared that if he crosses the threshold, you’ll never see him again. The confession sends a shiver down his spine. When he turns to face you, you're looking away, frowning— probably angry because you don't understand this new feeling. “Laugh at me all you want. I can’t help it.” You mutter, jaw clenched.

But Jungkook doesn’t want to laugh. His features soften as he watches you.

“Why would I?” He almost whispers, stepping closer. “Why would I?” He repeats, tilting his head to make you meet his gaze.

“Because you’re popular, and you can have any girls you want. Why would you care about someone who looks and acts like a boy?” You reply, making him chuckle softly. He pulls you into a warm hug, your breath shaky, but you stay still.

“I don’t care about them,” He murmurs, his warm breath brushing your ear as he tightens his arms around you, his nose grazing the skin of your shoulder. “I like you,” he says, and his words make you freeze for a second before you start laughing nervously. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, your arms wrapping shyly around his frame.

A huge weight lifts off your heart, and you feel lighter.

“Let me take you on a date,” he offers, pulling back as you shake your head, amused.

“A date?” You ask as he hums, wiping away a lonely tear from your cheek— the last remnant of your fear of losing him because of feelings you thought were unrequited.

“Well… I don’t have the money for something fancy, but I know you like tteokbokki.” He adds with an amused smile, his hands resting on your shoulders as you nod. “If I want you to be my girlfriend, I’ll better woo you properly, right?”

DUST OF US MASTERLIST.

WATTPAD.

buy me a coffee<3

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲

84 for ⚖️:

---

But he supposes fair doesn’t matter anymore, does it?

ii. 

Eddie coming over after his shift wakes Buck up the next morning. Buck slept incredibly well. No symptoms, no dreams, no being psychically entrapped by a goddess, nothing. It’s a huge relief. He needed that. He climbs out of bed feeling rested and less horrified about everything happening to him. 

“How are you doing?” Eddie asks when Buck makes his way down the loft stairs.

“A lot better,” Buck admits. “I, uh… I know what’s going on now. I just didn’t want to explain it over text.”

“You do?” Eddie asks, eyes wide. “Uh, what is it? How bad is it?”

Buck frowns. He’s still not sure of the answer to that final question. 

“Well, it’s kind of unbelievable…”

Buck launches into his story. Everything that happened, from the call where things got bad to his encounter with Lawrence. By the end of the explanation, Eddie’s face is twisted with… With something that surprises Buck. It looks like fear. Like something more intense than fear, even.

“Eddie…” Buck pleads. He had expected dubiousness. Disbelief. Not… This. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie blurts, stepping backwards towards the door. Like he’s going to bolt. “I… I can’t… I’m sorry, Buck.”

“What are you doing?” Buck asks, voice suddenly thick with panic. Eddie can’t leave him. There is no one else in the world he can talk to about this. He needs Eddie. He desperately needs him. 

“You… You’re gonna see, I… I’m not a good person,” Eddie says. “I’m… I don’t… You always thought I was, despite everything.”

Buck is certain his eyes almost bug out of his head. 

“Eddie, what? You’re… No! No, you are a good person.”

“I can’t be,” Eddie shakes his head. “I know what I’ve done.”

“O-okay, but I-I can actually objectively tell now!” Buck exclaims. “That’s literally the only point of me now!”

Eddie takes a shaky breath. 

“You’re not crimson the way they were,” Buck keeps saying. “My stupid tattoo doesn’t do its stupid thing around you. Okay? You’re not bad, Eddie. I know you aren’t!”

“You’re just biased,” Eddie says.

“I’m not!” Buck protests.

“How do you know?” Eddie demands. “You’re biased all the time about the people you care about! We all are!”

“If that was true in this case, I don’t think my actual boyfriend would have an evil red glow!” Buck rebuts, exasperated. 

Eddie stills. Thinking it through. This piece of logic seems to snag the momentum of his own self-loathing. 

“You are biased about Tommy,” Eddie says. 

Buck scoffs. “Come on, I-”

“You think he’s better than he is, too.” 

“I, what? I mean, okay, clearly. But how did you know that?” Eddie shrugs. His eyes are on the floor. “Doesn’t treat you as well as he should.”

---

75 for 🌲:

---

“You can?” Eddie asks. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Buck rasps. He can. He won’t do anything. 

The thing is, he’s not feeling anything he hasn’t felt before. It’s something he’s been feeling for years. Buried deep underneath misunderstanding himself and insecurity and an overall sense of hopelessness. Futility. Why was there ever any point in letting him feel this entirely? This hunger. It could never happen. Now? Now all he’s feeling is that hunger, amplified. Amplified so much, he doesn’t even notice the futility. All he knows is that he will never put that hunger on Eddie. He will never do anything to Eddie that doesn’t doesn’t want. Doesn’t ask for. 

Eddie takes a step toward him. “But you… You uh…”

“Yeah,” Buck nods. “A lot.”

Because once again, Buck finds himself unable to lie. Or even pretend he doesn’t understand what Eddie is trying to ask. 

Eddie steps towards him. Buck remains frozen. Afraid of making any further movements. 

“What if…” Eddie exhales. “What if I don’t really want you to?”

“You don’t… You don’t want me to want you?” Buck asks. He already knew that. He already knew. 

“I don’t want you to control yourself,” Eddie says, quietly. Quietly, but Buck can still hear. 

“You don’t really mean that,” Buck mumbles. 

Eddie exhales shakily. 

“I do, though. I really do.”

Buck takes a step forward and stops himself. He wants to, but he shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. 

“Please, Buck,” Eddie sort of whimpers. 

And that undoes it. All of Buck’s resolve. 

🌲

Eddie doesn’t know what he’s doing. He doesn’t know why he wants this. All he knows is that he does. Desperately. 

It’s not the magic. It’s not whatever he is. He didn’t want Tommy at all. No part of him did. He was repulsed by Tommy, at that moment. In a way he hadn’t been, when he first met Tommy, and Tommy was always after his attention. Tommy’s advances had sickened him, frightened him. Nothing about Buck does that. And so he finds himself asking, begging. For something he had no idea he even wanted. 

But god does he want it now. 

Buck has a sort of hazy look in his eyes. He strides towards Eddie, making an anticipatory heat pool in Eddie’s stomach. He goes sort of lightheaded. Buck grabs Eddie, one hand cupping his cheek, one hand on the small of his back. He kisses him. No hesitation, no tentativeness. 

Eddie’s never felt anything like it. 

It’s either the magic or some sort of sexual revelation. Who’s to say? His whole body is on fire. Hot like embers after over a week of feeling cold. It feels so good. It feels intoxicating. Eddie wants to drown in this. 

Buck pulls away from Eddie and looks into his eyes for a second. His pupils are blown. Expression awed. How long has Buck wanted this? Does he actually want it? Or is it all just-

Eddie’s thoughts are cut off by Buck’s mouth finding his throat. 

[feroshgirlsims]

Chapter 7.3 - You Can't Go Home

As they filter off the train, the smell of iron gets further away and Akira finally begins to relax.

He asks her a ton of questions, partly because he's curious and partly because he wants to keep the focus off himself. Alice is in the middle of talking about her class when her body goes rigid.

Akira scans for a threat but comes up empty. Train stations are generally pretty clear of supernatural creatures, except low-level spellcasters and baby vampires at night. They aren’t much use when you can transportalate, turn into a bat, or run for miles in wolf form. And the fae avoid them altogether. 

“You good?” 

She flinches when he reaches for her hand. “I-I’m fine,” Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Do you smoke? Weed, I mean, not cigarettes. I…I think I’m gonna smoke. Do you wanna come with me?”

“I thought you said you had to turn this assignment in,” he reminds her.

She stares across the platform, but he still can’t figure out what she’s looking at. 

“I’ll do it later. And you don’t have to come. That was weird of me to peer pressure you,” her laugh comes out high-pitched and wrong, “You're probably busy. I’m good. I’m gonna go. And you’ll go, and I’ll just see you later.”

She's babbling and her hands are shaking. There is no universe where he just leaves her like this.

“Yeah, I smoke," he takes her hand and leads her to the exit. "And I got time. No classes, remember?”

Akira has been to the Commons a few times (for creeper reasons), but he's never climbed the tower. The air is especially crisp, but Alice doesn't seem bothered by it.

Despite resisting earlier, he finds himself wishing she would extract some promise from him—some commitment to keep him tied to her. It's a terrible idea. He knows better. Akira has always been careful not to break one of the rules he’d learned by brute force.

“This is a shit weed,” he coughs.

“Hey!” Alice playfully points an accusatory finger, “I invite you to my secret perch and share my paltry stash, and you insult me?”

“You need a new dealer if this is your stash.”

“And a new bank account!” She laughs. “Try to chillax, my dude; you are working against the medicinal benefits.”

He tries. His lungs fill, but it takes three more rounds of coughing before he evens out. Alice, meanwhile, is a professional. She barely coughs, though she's had twice as much as him. He's not even sure she's high.

"Why photography?" he asks when she joins him on the bench.

"Most of the time, I get asked about painting; no one even thinks about photography."

He shrugs, "Your focus isn’t Fine Arts. Why am I gonna ask you about something you don’t do? You want me to guess?" When she nods, he waves a hand across the sky, pretending to paint a picture. "Art lets you remake the world in a more pleasing image, which is kind of nice because the world is shit. But you do photography because you want the shitty stuff upfront. No lies. You'd rather tango with the truth."

She straightens, suddenly alert. "Maybe. Kind of. But photography is also lies. All you do when you snap a picture is capture a moment in time. You can still tell yourself a story about the emotion you saw or what really happened. It's just a different kind of lie from painting."

The weed is definitely kicking in, but he likes her explanation.

"So what are you studying?" she asks.

Direct questions are the hardest to dodge. Especially now when he feels like he’s floating a hundred feet in the air. "I'm studying nothing," he says honestly. "I just follow what interests me."

"Why?"

"Because I have a lot of time." Infinite, actually, if he kept his head attached to his body and didn't end up on the wrong side of a curse.

"If I had time, that's what I'd do too. And catch up on back seasons of 7 Wild Dates."

Akira laughs, "Stop. I changed my mind. That show is moving to the bottom of my watch list."

“Don’t be mean!” Alice sticks out her tongue, "That's quality programming you're missing."

They smoke more and talk about nothing, which feels like talking about everything because Alice leaps from topic to topic. She knows a little about a vast number of subjects, like knowledge for her is a series of wading pools and she's just hopping from one body of water to another.

It's how Akira operates too. Once he gets the gist of something, he's ready to move on.

“Tell me one thing about you so you can stop accusing me of hanging out with a stranger," she says, "Where are you from?”

A flash of pink sky. 

A veil that never seems to part.

A home he can’t get back to.

The yearning is so real he jolts. “What if I told you that nothing about me or my life is what it seems? And because I don’t want to lie to you, you’re probably gonna find I won’t answer all your questions. Maybe any of them.”

Alice thinks for a minute. “I guess I’d say tell me what you can, not what you can’t.”

Akira wants to praise her wordplay. He wants to kiss her. He does neither.

“I love horror movies,” he confesses, “When I was like, 10, I snuck into the Moonlight Massacre Marathon at the theater downtown, and I was fuckin’ hooked.” 

The whole story comes tumbling out, even the part about Titania being a little shit and ratting him out to their parents. Alice laughs and complains about her step-sibling, and Akira viciously guards every drop of information she shares with him.

“I like horror movies too. If I throw in Moonlight Massacre II, will that elevate 7 Wild Dates on your watch list?”

His phone buzzes with a reminder about tonight’s job. He gets to his feet. “Next time,” he tells her.

“You promise?”

A promise is a dangerous thing. 

—A binding thing. 

A vow. 

No promises. 

Akira nods, “Yeah, I promise.”

PREV | NEXT

(Part 3 of 4)

[joyfuladorable]

OKAY SOOO I just had a crying laughing fit during my drive home because a Thought has occurred to me:

Y’know the Ooze?

The Ooze that mutated the Turtles, Splinter, and Leatherhead??

Why did the Utroms make it???????

[synonymroll648]

headcanon that the reason sophie still has eyelashes to pull on the regular is that grady and edaline worked something out with the dizznees to get a tasteless formula to help eyelash growth specifically to put drops of in her bottles of youth. because there’s no way her ptsd-induced trichotillomania (oversimplified definition for those who aren’t familiar: hair pulling disorder) is gonna die down during the war, so they’re trying to make sure she doesn’t move from eyelashes to eyebrows or her Hair hair by giving her More Eyelashes

[cryptiduni]

“white mourning.”

[turtle-trash]

Not gonna finish this since i realized that A) I am not capable of making proper man made monstrosity snapper designs let alone 3 different ones and B) this would honestly work better in fanfic form anyways since it would let me give more context to the scene along with other things

So. Here’s a scene from when Achilles was found. Reminder that Achilles was the exception when it came to the animal experiments found

[cuteniaarts]

@katkastrofa, circa 40-ish hours ago: Hey, what if our newest bunch of OCs adopted a baby from one of the other brothel girls who knew she couldn’t afford to raise one? That would make for some fun shenanigans :D

Me, with a notoriously non existent sleep schedule, instinct of self preservation or concern for my poor wrist: Alright, bet. Watch how fast I can make you fall in love with this hypothetical baby >:)

Daneli as a gentle and loving caretaker-turned-adoptive-mother is something that can be So Personal, actually, and originally I was going to leave it at this quick sketch, but then I got carried away thinking about what this child will grow up to be like raised by this little gang of misfits, so…

Here she is!! A little older and so, so beautiful, I need more of her in my life immediately, she’s way too precious

And, because I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t also add a sapphic element to this absolute cinnamon roll, a small crack ship that I’m only half serious about for when she’s a little older still:

All in all, we may be getting impossibly far from canon, but I for one already cannot get enough of sweet darling Kumisai <3

(I fully drew three pieces from scratch in 9 hours I cannot feel my brain or my hands anymore send help)

[thnksfrthmmrs]

[ironhusband]

Thinking about Erik snapping at Charles with “well maybe you should have fought harder for them” and the pain in his eyes when Charles told him they didn’t want the same things.

[milo-is-rambling]

Me when I want to be wanted more than anything else

[wren-kitchens]

dude my state of being is way too queer and/or mentally ill to relate to straight media, but that kind of Not Really Interesting mentally ill/queer for most audiences to relate to in other media

[fingertipsmp3]

I’ve been watching a lot of paranormal documentaries lately and decided to write out all the experiences I’ve had that I can’t adequately explain. Will add a cut because I feel some of these stories could get long, also, if I have theories about what could’ve happened I’ll add them.

First experience: when I was 5 or 6 years old (no older than 6 because we moved out of the house this happened in when I was 6), I was in bed trying to go to sleep when I suddenly heard a lot of voices in my head, overlapping, like someone had put on many radios all tuned to different stations. I don’t remember hearing music and I couldn’t make out any words, although I specifically remember several of the voices sounded angry and were shouting, which really scared me.

I ran to get my mum and tried to explain to her what was happening to me, but the craziest thing about this was, I couldn’t hear myself or her talking. Real sounds that were happening around me were drowned out by the cacophony in my head. My mum tried to comfort me as best she could and came back to my room with me, sitting with me until I fell asleep. I remember the voices continuing for a long period of time, which felt like ages to my child’s mind but was probably no longer than half an hour ultimately. I cried myself to sleep and when I woke up, the voices were gone. They’ve never returned, thank god.

Theories: my mum thinks it was a migraine, but I don’t really get them and have never had auditory hallucinations to this extent while experiencing one. I think it could either have been an auditory hallucination the likes of which I’ve never experienced before or since, or a one-off non-epileptic seizure. (I do experience short auditory hallucinations when I’m about to fall asleep, but they’re never more than 1-2 words or a sequence of music maybe 10 seconds long.) I remember at the time honestly feeling like someone had tuned me in to a frequency where I was hearing the thoughts of every human on earth.

Second experience: My dad died in May 2007. The song All Summer Long by Kid Rock came out in October 2007 on an album, and was released as a single in March 2008. But me and my dad used to listen to this song together in his car no later than the summer of 2004. I don’t have a good explanation for how this came to be. My dad used to drive me to my swimming lessons, which stopped when I was about 8 years old, and I always asked him to play “the Sweet Home Alabama” song. He knew this wasn’t the song by Lynyrd Skynyrd but the song by Kid Rock, because I really liked the lyric “singing Sweet Home Alabama all summer long”.

My dad couldn’t seem to play this song on demand, so I don’t think we had it on tape, but it seems like it was fairly consistently on the radio, because we listened to it at least 3 or 4 times. My dad wasn’t a Kid Rock fan at all, he was a classic rock n’ roll guy; he wouldn’t have owned a Kid Rock album or single. One thing I do find kind of interesting is that listening to this song again, I remember the melody being a bit different, faster, and being sung by a different voice. But it’s a Kid Rock original, not a cover, so I don’t know how that could be.

Theories: All Summer Long is a cover, and the original is lost to time. Or, I’m misremembering, but I swear to god I’m not. My mum asked if we could’ve been hearing Sweet Home Alabama instead, but I was adamant that when my dad put on that song I said “no! Not that one!” So I knew the difference. For me, this is classic Mandela Effect, or a timeslip involving the radio. Maybe even a dimensional thing, I don’t know. I wish someone with a good memory had been in the car with me and my dad, but it was just us.

Third experience: Now this is the one even my card-carrying skeptic mum can’t explain. When I was 13 I was in grief counselling for my dad’s death. My counsellor concluded that a lack of closure, the fact I hadn’t been able to say goodbye, was a pretty big point of agony for me, so he came up with the idea for me and my mum to go to the crematorium where we’d scattered my dad’s ashes and let some balloons go with a message for him. (I know now that balloon releases are a really bad idea for the environment, but I didn’t know that at the time.)

We did it that same day. We didn’t tie a message to the balloons but when I let them go, I thought “I miss you. I love you” or something along those lines. The crematorium has pretty big grounds, not just a memorial garden but a large field and many trees. We’d walked all the way across that field to get to the tree we’d scattered my dad’s ashes near. It was a nice day, the grass was bright green, freshly cut. I mention this because when we turned around to walk back (we’d only been standing at the tree for two minutes or less), the field before us was absolutely blanketed with white feathers. You couldn’t not notice, they were everywhere. It was something neither me nor my mum could explain. How could the feathers have fallen without getting on either of us? How could they have fallen in the first place? We’d have noticed, say, a seagull massacre going on right above our heads. It was like they didn’t fall, they just appeared.

Theories: yeah, I have nothing. My mum said “message received and understood”. I think my dad sent them.

Smaller incidents:

My grandma taught me to knit when I was 10, about a year later, she bought me my own pair of knitting needles, my first pair I wouldn’t be borrowing from her. I was really happy with them and wanted to cast on right away, but when I set them down, they disappeared. Not right before my eyes, but I swear I left the room for about ten seconds to get yarn and they were gone. We tore the house apart looking for them. My grandma has a very small house and she keeps it extremely clean and tidy, yet those needles have never shown up. Not even when the carpeting in the room I lost them in was replaced. I don’t know what happened here. If a house spirit has my 3.5mm navy blue plastic needles, I want them back.

Used to smell my dad’s cigar smoke and aftershave all around my childhood home and occasionally hear his footsteps on the stairs for years after he died. It stopped when I was around 16.

From the ages of 12-13 whenever I was alone in the house I’d hear scratching and banging sounds and footsteps. It terrified me. It was only when I was alone. I genuinely thought I was being targeted by a demon (having recently watched Paranormal Activity probably didn’t help.) When my mum told me the only person associated with our house who’d died was my dad, it all seemed to stop. It was like it stopped because I wasn’t scared of it anymore. It makes me wonder if I somehow created the phenomena with my mind. Teen girl telekinesis?