#nobody panic!

[neonponders]

When Coal Turns Into Pearls - Harringrove x Hunger Games!au - ch. 3!

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Coffee…Steve sat up straight and found the drink table. He’d been so eager for solid food that he hadn’t appreciated the liquid options. And dessert!

“I’m getting a head start on the sweets before all the cake’s gone. Watch my stuff.”

Robin pointed two fingers at her eyes and then jabbed them accusatorily at Tommy, who wagged his head sassily, cheeks too full to speak.

Steve swept by the dessert table, taking a napkin laden with a sizeable chocolate chip cookie—chocolate chip cookies!—and paused by the drinks. This table seemed more of a help yourself kind of spot, so he grabbed a paper cup embossed with the Academy’s insignia and set it down to pour hot chocolate—

“Feels more like winter with these options, huh?”

It took all of his cylinders firing to maintain a graceful pour while also checking who had spoken. Chief Hopper stood beside him, likewise helping himself to a coffee. Based on the discoloration of his cup, it was not his first.

“Seems a little more special, having something out of season,” Steve said, carefully setting the insulated carafe down. To his fascination, the chief picked it right up and topped off his coffee with hot chocolate.

“How are your folks?”

Dustin was not the only one lacking tact, apparently. Steve almost physically leaned back from the blow, but he managed, “They’re fine, thanks for asking.”

[lissy-strata]

*SUDDENLY CHANGES AVATAR FOR THE FIRST TIME IN TEN YEARS*

[waterwindow]

You can't just say this stuff to him man

[lazylittledragon]

mombin pt 9!! it's been too long i'm sorry

(1)(2)(3)(4)(5)(6)(7)(8)

[itsguysnightitsironic]

Vulture dimension? More like, *goes into a rage* *goes into a rage* *goes into a rage* *goes into a ra-

This video clip will be big evil next season I think

All I know of Fantasy High is fan compilations while being in a feverish state that made me see people in the shadows, and I think I don't need to know anything else.

Peak experience.

[bucketsofmonsters]

Deep Water - Part 4

cw: the ocean, animal carcasses, rotting, malnourishment, more tags to be added as the story continues

merman x fem reader

Word count: 3k

read on ao3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

You woke up disoriented on an unfamiliar floor, the steady sounds of snoring filling your ears. 

You turned to see Finn, still fast asleep as you rose from your little spot on the floor. He was bundled up in blankets, his head just barely peeking out of them enough to breathe. 

You didn’t want to bother him. He’d done so much for you, the last thing you wanted to do was to disturb his rest. 

In your attempt to begin to get ready without disturbing him, you managed to get your feet tangled in the loose blankets below you and tumble back to the floor.

You quickly righted yourself just in time to see Finn begin to shift, waking fitfully. 

He groaned, eyes barely peeking open to look up at you. “Is… Oh. I forgot you were here.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

He tried to wave dismissively but in his half-asleep state, it looked more like he attempted to clumsily swat a fly out of the air.

He rose from the bed slowly, a little unsteady on his feet.  “I’ll find you some clothes.”

You took him in as he moved to the drawers beside the bed. He was a little scrawnier than the average man working on the docks and only a few inches taller than you, but still, you were sure that his clothes would fit you awkwardly, if at all. “You really don’t have to do that, my clothes are mostly dry now.”

“Nonsense, I have just the thing for you.”

And then he pulled out a dress, a practical one with reasonable skirts and allowance for movement. A dress you’d seen before. 

You reeled back a little as you asked, “Why do you have my sister’s clothes?”

It came out harsher than you’d intended it to. Maybe the shock was to blame, you weren’t certain. 

He deflated at your words, crumpling in on himself, his shoulders slumping as his face fell. 

“I should have told you,” he said, visibly mortified. “I know I should have. You just… you look just like her.”

The realization hit you instantly. “You two were…”

“I wasn’t trying to replace her,” he said, rushing in to cut you off. “I mean, I couldn’t replace her even if I did want to. It was just… it was nice to see you. I could almost pretend, just a little.”

The more he tried to justify it, the more your heart sank. “How long were you together?” you asked, your voice flat and distant.”

“Years. She was everything to me.” His voice was low and sad, sadness that you were sure was for her and not for you, standing betrayed in front of him. Why would it be for you? How selfish could you be?

You almost wished he’d yelled at you. Then maybe it wouldn’t make you feel so bad. He seemed devastated and apologetic and all the things he could be and yet now that you knew you could just tell. You could see him looking at you like you were her, with faux, unearned affection in his eyes behind the heartbreak. 

It made you furious. You wanted to throw something, to shout at him, to demand to be seen as a person, to be removed from her shadow. 

But he was grieving, just as you were. Probably more. 

The least you could to was be kind. 

So you gave him a half-hearted, soft pat on his shoulder and tried to paint as much sympathy accross your face as you could manage.

“You didn’t mean any harm,” you said, and you knew it was true. 

It still stung. 

And then you took the dress from his hands, his grip softening as you reached for it, and you left. 

You found an empty room to change in and went off to work as quickly as you could.

The next few weeks passed quickly, settling into an easy routine. Without Finn hovering over your shoulder as you worked, you were free to move quickly and mindlessly, doing your job exactly as intended and no more. 

You stopped by to see Simon almost every day. The days you couldn’t, held up late at the docks, he no longer threw a complete fit. There was huffing and pouting but he hadn’t kindaped you again and you considered that progress.

In fact, after the stunt he’d pulled, he seemed hesitant to even get near you, like even his presence was tainted now. He was more careful than he’d been, asking before he did anything. 

You supposed it was preferable over the alternative. 

You and Finn had grown distant. He was clearly trying to give you space but you couldn’t quite breach that gap and bring yourself to talk to him so instead you let him fade away, sharing quiet polite smiles when you saw one another and nothing more. Your only real friend here now gone. Other than your monster that you still caught glimpses of below the docks, no matter how many times you warned him that it was ill-advised.

You didn’t mind going to see him. There was very little understanding between you but it felt nice, having him so eager to meet with you every day, shifting uncomfortably in shallow water that he braved for you. 

It had been a bad day. 

Nothing had happened, not really, but that awful ship was back. Every time you saw it, a wave of nausea overtook you, brought back to you kicking and screaming on the deck, inhaling rain as you huffed in breaths. 

Finn had shot you a concerned look or two as he apparently read your nerves off your face, but he had kept his distance, respectful and stomach-churning. 

You wanted him to come check in on you, something he clearly wanted to do, but you still refused to go speak with him first. You couldn’t do it, couldn’t return to him like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs, offering yourself as your sister’s replacement if he’d just speak to you.  

So instead, at the end of an awful day, you scurried off the docks to your spot, content that you’d at least get to see your siren. 

On the shore, where you usually sat, lay the tail end of a sea lion, bloody with bones sticking out, looking almost rotted.

You looked into the water to find amber eyes staring back at you, wide and expectant. 

You knew instantly he’d brought it here, though you couldn’t fathom why. It wasn’t a fresh kill, instead looking like it had been pulled off a beach somewhere where it’d washed up. 

A sense of shame flickered in his eyes, fighting back a grimance as you noticed it. 

“Do you want it?” he asked, head nodding towards the carcass.

“No,” you said, and he reeled back, not looking surprised but seeming upset all the same. 

“It’s the best I could do,” he said, eyes downcast. “I’ve been trying to find something better but I’m not built for this.”

His voice was tinged in a sense of bitterness and frustration and you wished you knew what he was talking about so you could comfort him. Or at least understand why he was upset. 

“Built for what? Why is this here?”

“It was supposed to be food,” he said with a huff. “I have nothing for you. I can’t provide you anything.”

“Provide me… You don’t need to provide for me, I can get my own food.”

“You shouldn’t have to. I want to… I want to show you I can keep you safe but I can’t. Couldn’t even keep you fed.”

As he spoke, you really took him in, sitting behind a rotting carcass that wasn’t fit for anyone to eat. 

What had he been eating if after weeks, this was the best he could bring you?

And then it struck you, the way he’d begun positioning himself in the shallows, stomach carefully down, arms in front of it, shifted away from you. 

“Come here,” you said, trying to keep your words soft. 

He looked like he was about to cry but he shifted forwards all the same. 

You fought back a gasp as he finally let you get a good look at him. 

He looked emaciated. Where soft, plump skin used to be, it instead had begun to pull taught over ribs that looked sharper than the human ribs you were accustomed to. 

With the new context, you could see it in his face too, his full cheeks beginning to bow in.

“What happened to you?” you asked, cursing yourself that you could have missed this, could have let him keep his distance and hide this from you so easily. 

“I’m not good at hunting,” he said, rufusing to meet your gaze. 

“You were fine before, what changed?”

He shifted and you could see a war waging inside his head, the conflict written accrosss his features. 

You waited, owing him patience at least. 

Finally, he seemed to come to a decision and he spoke, still sad and low but with a sense of finality rising behind it. 

“We’re not hunters, we’re not built for it. Not fast enough or sharp enough. We’re built to lure in prey but… you’re a person. If I hadn’t stopped to talk to you, you’d just be gone, drowned and devoured, and I wouldn’t even have known that it hurt, let alone… I can’t do it anymore,” his words had shifted from sad and low to frustrated and sharp. “I can’t hunt so I can’t eat fish but I can’t do it anymore. Every time I look at them I keep just seeing you.”

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes at the thought that you had done this to him. The revelation that he’d been eating humans fell by the wayside at the sight of sad eyes on a gaunt face that used to be warm and soft.

And you couldn’t even do anything about it. You didn’t have the resources to get him fish, not after the measly few weeks you’d spent here. You had barely managed to find yourself lodgings in a grimy old inn, barely eating enough to keep up your strength. 

But you had to. You couldn’t just leave him to this, in this situation that you’d dragged him into when you’d gotten thrown off that ship. When on the worst day of your life, he saw easy prey in front of him and decided to be kind. 

And then an idea came to you. An awful idea, sure, but the only one you had. 

You muttered a quiet “wait here” before you stood up and sprinted back to the dock, knowing you had to catch him before he left. 

Finn’s face lit up when he saw you nearing him, relief pulling the tension out of his shoulders and bringing a soft smile to his face. 

You grabbed his hand and with a soft noise of confusion escaping him, you dragged him down to your isolated little spot on the beach. 

The whole time you pulled him along, as he followed you without question, you tried to think how to explain any of this to him. 

You kept moving as you wracked your brains, needing to solve this, needing to know it could be fixed, and you came up with nothing.  

Anything would be better than just bringing him in blind, a fact you realized seconds too late, arriving at your spot on the shore. 

You saw the panic in Simon’s eyes seconds before disaster hit. Right before Finn noticed him, he was being snatched into the water, pale arms hooked under his armpits, holding him down in the shallows. It seemed mainly like shock and confusion that kept Finn down. Submerged in deep water he wouldn’t stand a chance, but here, in the shallows, against a malnourished and emotional siren; he could’ve taken him easily.

But he didn’t, instead thrashing a little with eyes wide and he tried to take in the simultaneous facts that sirens were real and that one had just dragged him into the water. 

“He’s here to help, drop him,” you snapped, shooting a harsh look at Simon. 

“I didn’t even do anything wrong,” he said, a grouchy look crossing his face as he let Finn go, drifting nervously back into the water. You recognized it for what it was. He was preparing for his escape, just in case. 

You didn’t blame him for the instinct. To be honest, it was a good one. Blind trust like that in anyone could get him killed. 

You hoped this wouldn’t be one of those times. You hoped you’d prove him wrong. 

Your hand snapped out to grab Finn’s wrist as he tried to stagger away, eyes wide and frightened.

“Finn,” you said, keeping your voice measured and level. “This is Simon. He’s a friend.”

You didn't think you'd ever seen such panic and betrayal in his eyes, his face normally light and happy. He was breathing heavy, eyes darting between the two of you like he couldn't quite believe he wasn't about to get pulled back in.

Finn looked down at your hand encircling his wrist. He tested his strength against yours, almost pulling away before deciding to let you keep him there. Ever patient, he didn’t take the out, he didn't run. He waited, by your side, nervous but steady.

His breaths slowed, taking stock of Simon in the water.

You weren’t sure who looked more frighted, both sizing one another up, ready to bolt should the need arise. 

You left them to it, terrified that any sudden movement would shatter the tentative peace that was forming between them. 

He nodded slowly, eyes not moving from Simon, shivering slightly in newly wetted clothes. “And why exactly,” he began, eyes locked onto Simon, “did you want me to meet this friend of yours?”

“Um. So he wants to stop eating people,” you said, wincing as you heard yourself and the reality of what you'd just said sunk in.

“He eats people?” Finn asked, his voice spiking up in panic as his head whipped towards you.

“And he would like to stop. If we can’t help him, what do you think he’s going to start doing again?”

“It’s not my fault!” Simon huffed from the water. “The fish don’t hate you for eating them, why do you get to be mad at me?”

“The fish aren’t people,” Finn insisted, arms wrapping around himself as he shivered in the cold air. 

“And you aren’t sirens. I thought you were stupid anyway, like fish.”

“You thought we were like fish?”

Simon shrugged. “Not like fish. But the difference from you to fish is like the difference from you to me. Or… I thought so. We might have been wrong. I don’t know, I just eat.”

He seemed uncomfortable with having to explain himself, shifting in the water as he glanced at you every few seconds. 

It took a moment for you to realize what he was looking for. It was approval, you could see him searching for it in your eyes. 

You weren’t sure you could give it to him. Your stomach churned at his words but you could feel how earnest he was, could hear the confusion and distress in his voice.

He hadn’t thought he was doing anything wrong. Why would he? He was just doing what sirens had always done and now he wasn’t so sure about it any longer and his whole past was filled with deaths he didn’t know if he could justify anymore. 

How would you feel, you wondered, if you met a fish one day and that fish told you it was afraid? If it told you that it told stories to its young about your kind and how they’d snatch it up and cook it over an open flame. 

Would it be your fault? Would those deaths be on your conscience?

Would you ever have the presence of mind to see a fish, alone in strange waters, and save it? Could you even do what Simon had done, take that first step?

Your heart hurt for him, alone in his crisis, with no one to talk to about it. His only options were his kind that depended on these horrible deaths to survive and you. And his prey. 

Finn pulled you aside, far from out of Simon's earshot but it seemed to settle him a little bit to at least feign privacy. 

“What do you want me to do here?” Finn hissed.

“I want to help him. He saved my life and… and even if he didn't, is this not for the best? He wants to do better, we can't just not help him.”

He nodded, hesitant but willing. “Okay, so what now.”

“I don’t know. He can eat fish, we know that for sure. Maybe other food too? Do you think he can eat human food?”

Finn pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I don’t know. How would I know? I guess I can get him fish, we could sneak a couple out and buy some before we leave at night. Would that be enough?”

You shrugged. “I have no idea.”

He sighed. “Great."

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this, I just didn’t know anyone else I could go to.”

He gave you a soft smile. “It’s the least I could do. Now, I’m going to go scrounge something up, you keep your little siren company.”

You shot him one last grateful look before settling down on the beach, water lapping at your shoes. 

Simon pulled himself out of the water a bit, trying to get closer to you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice barely audible over the sound of the waves. 

You took his hand from where it lay, shifting nervously over some rocks, and gave it a gentle squeeze. 

“I know.”

[sisyphean-torment]

this is normal behavior for writers for comics, right? scripting dialogue and describing the scenes by drafting all the paneling and dialogue and character positioning and having it in a horrendous single canvas divided into 10 squares since 10 was the page max and your poor artist is going to have a to draw all this so you condense the entire plot like a mastermind and still have time to crack jokes and draw cub’s entire buttcheeks slung over hotguy’s shoulders. sorry what were we talking about

anyway it was so much fun to get to work with @tibby-art for the Hotguy Comics Zinethology!! please go check out the full comic in all its finished glory!

[californiannostalgia]

seems to me like zac oyama is repping some experiences of asian american schoolkids, defined by such hits like 'regulate your anger,' 'communicate clearer to deliberately misunderstanding assholes,' and 'perpetual sense of unbelonging in both the american part and the asian part of your life.'

[ask-the-colony-tree-siblings]

Hey, Hunter!

Aside from the chronic back pain, what other long lasting symptoms did you have from the Rot, if any?

((Okay! So my attempt to answer this somehow developed into a rant about Hunter’s characterization so… here you go lol.))

So I have to answer this on Hunter’s behalf, because part of his character is that he doesn’t like to admit any sort of weakness. Apart from chronic pain, I essentially just gave him the symptoms of low iron. He gets light headed and dizzy, and he is often tired or low energy. 

Hunter has this mindset that being weak, or showing weakness makes you useless. (I wonder what could have possibly made him develop that way of thinking. Surely nothing to do with the way he was raised and treated growing up.) Keep in mind, Hunter’s very logical logic only applies to him. He wouldn’t judge Survivor for not being strong, Hunter just has unhealthy expectations of himself that definitely aren’t realistic anymore with his post-rot symptoms, and were never actually that realistic to begin with.

He has a habit of ignoring his own symptoms, and pretending to be perfectly fine when he isn’t. He’d never admit it if his chronic pain is making it difficult for him to function properly. 

(His physical health is one thing, but don’t even get me started on how Hunter views his mental health lmao.)

Uhhh anyways bonus light headed/dizzy Hunter:

[additiva]

Oscar not thriving early in FP1 which obviously means nothing. But I want to believe he's being the pettiest king alive and going:

"Fine. You don't want me to beat Lando? I won't. Win your constructors on your own 😘"

That'd just be so delicious and toxic I can't lie.

[book-lover85]

Stay at home dad and artist on commission Keefe

[micamone]

"Launchpad, on a scale of one to five you scored... A TWELVE?"

[spaciebabie]

at first getting diagnosed with cptsd was like, "yay my trauma has been validated (it always was valid)!" and i really thought that was going to be it, but then i started to do research as i do whenever i realize i have something and learned that!! the way i experience socialization is!! quite horrid actually!!

[charlotte-family-apologist]

Suchin's Backstory In My AU

Warning: Non-Graphic Addiction and Suicide

Suchin was the only child of a civilian mother and a former criminal father. When she was eight, her mother died in a car accident, causing her father to fall into a depression and relapse into his gambling addiction, taking out several loans from his old employer in the Red Dragon to support it. He lost his job within the year and started drinking, leaving Suchin to take care of him more often than not. He also fell back into old paranoid habits and took to training Suchin in case they went after her first.

Struggling with money, Suchin got a job at a local restaurant at fourteen, where she flourished socially. She even got a boyfriend at seventeen. Due to her always being away from home, she failed to notice her father spiraling further until he raided her savings when she was eighteen. She started to take more hours to build them back up, neglecting her relationships to do so. Because of this, her boyfriend broke up with her.

At nineteen, she came home to find her dad committed suicide. Upon reading the note, she learned all the debts had come to a head, and the Red Dragon was pursuing payment. The trauma of it finally breaking the barrier in her mind to fully activate her “radar” (see notes for explanation) that had been on and off her entire childhood.

Inheriting her father’s debt, Suchin fled and became a traveling vigilante known as Blackbird on a personal mission to destroy the Red Dragon and return to civilian life. She quickly became a notorious figure in Asia’s underworld for her efficiency and only took paid jobs to support her survival.

She swore off personal relationships and dedicated her life to completing her goal, investigating any lead on the Red Dragon she found. One of these investigations led her to Japan, where she met Kenshi for the first time.

And nearly killed him.

Notes:

Suchin’s radar is a danger sense ability she feels, not sees or hears. Despite it being a form of precognition, she can’t tell what is and isn’t a danger and has to identify them herself. She can’t turn it off and it works best when she’s calm and collected. The only time it doesn’t work is when she’s panicking, as it becomes hard to read and quickly overloads her senses and rational thoughts. It can also blank out when she doesn’t know how to process something, often freezing her in place. Because of it, she lives in a constant state of flight or fight and suffers from severe anxiety and paranoia, which is only made worse by her lifestyle.

Suchin’s father wasn’t physically abusive, only laying hands on her during training, even helping her patch any injuries before his addictions fully tanked his psyche. The majority of the trauma Suchin has from her father is from neglect, parentification, and the fallout of his suicide.

The timeline of these events are: 1957: Suchin is born 1965: Suchin’s mother dies in a car accident and her father relapses, taking out loans from the Red Dragon 1976: Suchin’s Father commits suicide, transferring his debt to Suchin (19); Suchin flees from the Red Dragon and eventually becomes Blackbird 1987: Kenshi (28) and Suchin (30) meet

[ajearthlinggg]

every actress in this movie is my wife ong

[thiskryptonite]

If you click here you’ll find a total of 66 gifs of Rap God Cody Christian from his role in All American Season 6. Cody is of the Penobscot and Passamaquoddy nations, so please cast accordingly. All gifs were made by me and are 268 x 170. You are welcome to resize these/edit for personal use, but do not redistribute or claim them as your own.

Content warning: flashing lights