#moon river and me

[numbuh424]

"this meeting could have been a massacre" on ao3

In which Mikami is late for the Yellow Box Warehouse meeting, and instead of waiting for him the Task Force and SPK decide to go out and have a team lunch.

[naffeclipse]

What if Eclipse from AP was a naga? And this took place in the deep jungle of the amazon, where photographer y/n is trying to take pictures of the wildlife?

I'm vibrating at the speed of sound over this ask while also nudging my naga au

Naga Eclipse from AP would have the tail of a Green Anaconda, with an olive green scaly color dotted with black, framed by burning-like flares of orange along the length of his slithery body. He's also decorated with orange-yellow striping on either side of his long, slipper form. His upper half is scaley with a lithe deadliness to his musculature and decorated by frills surrounding his head with brighter orange-yellow colors, almost hypnotic in their gradient hues. One eye is deep emerald green, and one is midnight blue.

Lucky you—you're out on a once-in-a-lifetime expedition to explore a jungle closed off to the public, funded by Fazco, and occupied by two researchers who will be your bunkmates for the next few weeks. You're itching to take photos of the large river, including swamps, marshes and streams, and whatever wildlife is out there.

The few locals you did meet before you left to hike the rest of the way to what would be your new, isolated home warned you of a dangerous snake—a large, mythical beast. You take note of the local folklore. You understand the truth is hidden in there somewhere, and you are well aware of the dangers and diseases you could be met with in such a harsh environment, but you're determined.

It doesn't take long for you to feel eyes watching you when you first venture out by yourself. You take beautiful pictures of freshwater fish, big and beautiful, unlike any you have ever seen. Of course, you have hundreds of snapshots of the local flora, the trees, the floating meadows, the thick vines that drape each branch and hang thickly about the ground. You almost forget that you eerily don't feel alone.

But you swear something moves in the water—the ripples stop as soon as you look. The stillness is suddenly stiff, lifeless. Even the birds have stopped chirping.

You lower your camera and carefully put it away. A trickle of fear slips into your heart. You turn away from the river's edge only to be met by a low hiss and a creature, unlike anything you witnessed in your travels, spooling itself neatly out of the water, blocking your path to the base. An incredible creature with long arms and a great, serpentine tail that seems to stretch for yards and yards. You can hardly breathe in his presence—he's otherworldly with his frills and scales and fangs.

His eyes contain a mesmerizing shine as if staring into a fire as it burns or watching the ocean as it laps up against the beach, drawing your attention, demanding you don't look away. You couldn't anyway. Half-frozen, you struggle to keep from collapsing. He beckons with a sharp talon. He hisses softly for you to come closer, mouse. He wants to see you. You try to beg no without revealing how terribly you tremble. He doesn't let you go. He insists. His eyes flash with an allure. You almost step close when he murmurs that you need to be good.

But then your sense of survival kicks adrenaline into your heart, and you turn to run—

He strikes faster than your eyes can follow. Two loops of his green and orange tail surrounded you in an instant. You're dragged to the ground, your arms pinned under his mass, and the back of your head cradled by his large palm as powerful muscles squeeze you in the slightest—a gentle rebuke for thinking you could get away. You're hyper-aware of the terrifying bulk of muscles as you lie trapped in his coils. One strong twist and your eyes could pop out of your skull, and every bone protecting your heart and lungs would crumble to shards. You gasp. An urge to kick your legs and struggle erupts in your panic; a sinking feeling tells you it would only make things worse.

He coos over you, hissing and humming in an ancient song of the jungle you have no name for. When you whimper, he shushes you and strokes your cheek. He tells you how lovely you'll be. When you talk back to him, somehow finding your tongue amid your horror, you find out his name. Eclipse. He moves you more upright, resting you on his tail so you're not petrified by how vulnerable you feel lying down, but he never loosens his scaly bindings. He hovers over you. You gaze into his stunning frills of yellow-orange and wonder how a being like him came to exist. He studies you as you study him. He grins at how you shiver when he traces your collarbone with a sharp fingertip.

You remind yourself that you can still breathe. He hasn't crushed you—yet—but you don't like how wide his smile is. Sometimes, his jaw stretches a little too long as if dislocating from his skull, ready to devour you. His eyes gleam with a ravenousness as scales twist around you, holding you close enough to smell the slick green water he had been in and deep musk.

He tells you that he'll see you again very soon—away from other humans, lest you bring him a fine gift for a meal. You can only flex your fingers, silently pleading in your heart that he won't unhook his jaw and eat you alive.

Then, he unravels himself from your limbs. But before he lets you go entirely, he leans in close, his serpentine tongue flickering close to your neck and by your hair, tasting the air around you as you muster all your strength to not scream. He inhales deeply, pleased, before he murmurs, "Sweet mouse. You are mine. Say it."

You don't understand, but you echo his command, and when he taps your chin once in what might have been a loving gesture, you force your jelly legs to solidify before you run and run, all the way back to base. You slam the door to your room behind you. You touch your ribs, your arms, still caught in the heavy sensation of his loops as if he were upon you right now.

The stories are true—there is a giant snake in this jungle, and he wants you. You're afraid to discover if Eclipse's intrigue with you is only an exotic way to satisfy his hunger.

[mattodore]

guy whose “extended one-night stand” regularly deploys polish to call a little mouse

[jessaerys]

sun visits the moon at spk headquarters and gets so so so sleepy

[spookberry]

This looks so lame in a photo, but this is my favorite spot in the world. Its so beautiful, it makes me feel like I could paint galleries full of just this.

[camellcat]

buffy and drusilla should've been allowed to make out. at least once :/

[girlaux]

This was honestly the worst part about the "backlash" against Bayonetta 3 (because it wasn't backlash, it was just criticism from Bayofans): annoying alt-righters taking well-meaning criticism about the ending and twisting it. Like, yeah, let's get on Twitter and Youtube to cry about fake outrage and the 'woke mob'. Most of the criticism about the ending was that, by killing off some of the major characters, it did a total disservice to them and the story. But these guys would rather make a big deal about the fact that some were disappointed by Bayoluka... snowflake behavior. I can't take any of that shit seriously.

OMG WHY ARE YOU MAKING SUCH A BIG DEAL OUT OF BAYO 3'S ENDING IT'S NOT THAT BAD

Because of homophobes and so-called "anti-SJWs", that's why.

[philcoulsonismyhero]

I Should be sleeping, but unfortunately I finished relistening to Moon Over Soho again earlier after I finished Amongst Our Weapons again the other day and decided to just loop back around, and I continue to be Deeply not normal about Thomas Nightingale.

2396 names of wizards who died in WWII and he personally carved every single one of them into the remembrance wall at Casterbrook. 3 out of 5 of every military aged wizard in Britain died and the rest of them gave up the craft due to injury and/or trauma, but he persisted, alone. He started aging backwards in his 70s but stopped at the approximate age he was during the war. He still remembers how and where all of his friends died. "Some days, it seems so long ago, and some days..."

I keep thinking of the DS9 pilot and the Prophets bringing Sisko back to his wife's death over and over again because "you exist here". Nightingale still exists in the war. And then Peter comes along and drags him into the 21st century and refuses to let him stay wallowing in his grief and spots Exactly all the ways in which he's broken and needs someone to keep the cracks from widening. Peter’s mum says what would one more killing be to a man with blood on his hands, and Peter thinks of the strain he's seen in Nightingale and decides no, no more, there's Always Another Way. For moral and ethical reasons, but also because Nightingale has been damaged enough. And it started when he put his foot down over the jazz vampires and threw 'what did all your friends die for?' in Nightingale's face.

I am. So very Not Normal about them in general and about that conversation in particular

[twelverriver]

sorry but the way river literally always haunts both the narrative and the doctor??? like. she turns up and she dies. we could say she's a ghost for the rest of the show even though we know she's very much alive for the rest of the show. the way the question of how to save river is something the doctor thinks about all the time. the entire episode of the name of the doctor with river's LITERAL GHOST HAUNTING HIM AND CLARA. the minisode "date night" where she says "oh doctor, you and your secrets, you'll be the death of me." and he's looking like he's mourning her all over again. it's twelve hiding a key of the tardis in the book "the time traveler's wife" for me. the way river appears again in the husbands of river song and we know that afterwards, she's headed to the library and dies and gets uploaded to the library as a data ghost. the episode that follows that is literally the return of doctor mysterio, where the loss of river is SO PRESENT??? and he's mourning her the entire and HAS been mourning her. nardole's speech!!! after that is season ten and he mentions her to bill (even if its a deleted scene it is REAL TO ME) and her diary is shown and a passage is read from it to convince the doctor of something and nardole shows up again as a "wife-approved companion" and twelve has a picture of her next to susans on his desk!! and bill asks if someone's really gone do pictures help !!! LIKE. I'm connecting the dots!!

[stephpanda]

Half of heart

[liahleeh]

Tenho a sensação que vou morrer cedo e isso é estranho!!! ❤️‍🩹💔🖤🥀✨

[swampvoid]

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Sharing for a boost 🍉🍉🍉

[theriu]

I think we all find some shiny pokemon aggravating due to their being either A) almost indistinguishable from the normal pokemon, or B) just a really unfortunate palette choice, honestly. (Looking at you, Dragonite.)

However, there is another subset of questionable shinies that I think is the absolute funniest, and that is:

The Only Color We Changed Is Canonically Not Part Of The Pokemon’s Body

Mimikyu is colorblind and/or thinks Pikachu is off-white, I guess??? Tinkaton, I’m sorry but it seems your shiny quality is just “prefers rusty metal.” And now I am pondering where in Alola Komala got that miraculously pink and white log. Apparently being "shiny" IS a state of mind in some cases!

[roe-and-memory]

earlier today the brain cells bounced off of each other and i was reminded of how proud thomasville was and still is of doc. no matter what, they loved him. their speedway sign still has his name and face proudly plastered on it, its proud claim of being his hometown, the sign is in beautiful condition despite it being over fifty years old, not a single thing was changed about it. the billboards in the track itself havent been changed one bit, it still has docs ad for smokeys garage, although in a little more disarray than the speedway sign, its still there.

smokey always knew doc would come back. he has a picture on the workbench in his garage of himself and doc (along with pictures of the others scattered around). they still have the old race tapes with doc in them, smokey knew exactly where they were otherwise we wouldnt have had the scene where theyre outside the garage with it being projected on the wall

there are still posters in the cotter pin of doc, and although all the old racing posters are still up (the ones about the crew anyways) they left docs to stay. they were so fucking proud of him guys. they loved him so much

[arsene-fixates]

omg… among the other scores i got for band i got girl from ipanema …!!!! jumping around!!!!