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connabeth · 3 months

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🚨🚨🗣️BURDGE IS BACK, THIS IS NOT A DRILL 🗣️🚨🚨

literally the original backbone of this fandom and the blueprint for 95% of percy art…a (show critical 😌) legend returns!!

#percabeth #percy jackson #pjo #pjo tv show #percy jackon and the olympians #burdge #she might disappear again but let’s savor it #maybe just this once #got clocked so bad scrolling thru ig instead of catching up on the 5 lectures i need to watch before my midterm #but HELLO???

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flamingpudding · 5 months

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Bruce stared. He had just been lecturing one of his son on his gala manners. Dick or Jason were usually the ones misbehaving like that, not Tim! What had gotten into his son to behave like that in public when he wasn't even in a sleep deprived state. Of course, Bruce had to lecture his kid and benched him for the night to get some sleep because Tim had to be sleep deprived to act like that. That was untill said son, he was lecturing, came through the front door shouting at him for leaving him behind at the gala.

His head swayed between Tim and the teen he had apparently just abducted and possibly has now knowledge of their secret identities.

Okay, maybe Alfred was right about his amount of sleep. Bruce brain went to overdrive, he could play it all of with an extended Brucie act.

That was before the teen lifted on hand in a calming manner and sheepishly smiled at him.

Danny: I get the whole secret identity thing, but i dont think it's a good idea to bench me, when ghost might come attacking. I won't tell a soul about yours if you keep mine! I can make a death vow if that helps. So can I call vlad now? As much as I like getting on his nerves and away from him. HE is my original ride home.

Tim: Wait, Vlad Masters who pestered ME all night is your guardian?

Bruce continued staring at the teen that looked like Tim and was now talking to his son while his son was parallel texting on his phone. No doubt telling his other sibling.

Good, they will never let this go and Alfred will use this situation against him next time he works through several nights.

#dp x dc #danny fenton #dpxdc #danny phantom #dcxdp #tim drake #brue wayne #i spired by another post in which bruce abducted danny as batman #i just thought he could do it as brucie took #danny just wanted to annoy Vlad #he ended up acting like Dick or Jason at the gala #Bruce of course had tk remove his son fro. there and needed to know why Tim was acting out #only that Tim was getting pestered by Vlad at the same time #so Danny got mistaken as Tim #and accidentally learned about their secret identities while getting lectured #though Danny might misunderstood #thinking bruce was benching phantom cause batman doesnt want metas in his city #random early morning thoughts

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pupkashi · 1 year

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gojo’s first thought when he gets unsealed is you, his eyes are darting from face to face trying to find you, he wants to get home to you.

and when he finally does and sees you he feels okay again, he’s running to take you in his arms, his hearts racing so fast and he’s sure you can hear it but he doesn’t care.

you’re holding him in shock, your fingers digging into the fabric of his t shirt and you can’t believe he’s here and he’s real and he’s holding you. there’s tears down your face but you don’t care, you’re squeezing him so hard and he had almost forgotten how strong you truly were.

it’s only minutes later that the two of you pulls away, your hands flying to his cheeks and wiping away the couple stray tears on his cheeks, he’s smiling down at you and you can’t help but smile back.

“you’re really here?” your voice is small and weak, your eyes drinking in all of his features, afraid he’d be taken from you again.

“i told you i would always come back to you didn’t i?” he’s smiling and you want to roll your eyes, you want to smack his chest but all you muster is a small nod before crashing your lips onto his.

you’re smiling into the kiss, he giggles at the way your teeth bump against each other, but the two of you don’t pull away, even when you’re out of breath you do your best to get one last kiss in before pulling away, breathing a little heavier and your cheeks heating up as you looked at him.

you finally gain enough courage to let go of him, you’re cheeks flushing even more when you see the tight black t shirt he’s wearing, gojo can only smirk as he watches the way your eyes widen a bit.

“haven’t been home for even an hour and you’re already checking me out? I’m just a piece of meat to you aren’t i sweetheart” he’s pouting and your mouth falls open, attempting to protest but you have nothing.

“you were gone for so long what do you expect?” you quip back, you grab his hand, pushing him onto the couch before laying on top of him, your head buried in his chest as his arms instinctively wrap around you.

gojo swears he’d never felt more comforted in his life.

“missed you so much lover” you whispered, peppering kisses all over his face, satoru catches your lips with his. his heart skipping a beat as the name of endearment hits his ears.

“i missed you so much more sweets” his voice has no teasing lilt to it and your heart aches for him. all you do it hold him tighter, hoping if you hold on tight enough you’ll be able to keep from falling apart from all he’s been through.

#I MISSED HIM SO BAD #he has no reason to be looking so good #not proof read + just got out of lecture + sleepy #ignore any mistakes plzplzplzplzplz #jjk manga spoilers #jjk spoilers #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru one shot #gojo satoru drabble #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x gn!reader #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojo x reader #gojo fluff

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hellenhighwater · 2 months

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You mentioned emotional stability, which I get, but it made me think of the meme about ‘how do you not cry when people yell at you’ and I’m wondering both: whether there’s as much yelling in law as in tv, and whether you’ve ever cried while doing law

Nowhere near as much yelling as TV!

The only people I've ever had yell at me are non-attorneys who are representing themselves and who do not understand how this whole system works, and generally speaking...they're not in a position where their yelling is hurtful? Every time it's happened it's been more like a person throwing a tantrum, and I just...can't take that seriously. No one I actually work with (or opposing counsel) has ever managed to yell at me. I have cut off a couple people who were working themselves in that direction and redirected things back to being civil.

Frankly: I will not put up with that shit.

The list of people who are allowed to yell at you in a professional setting is very, very short, and the circumstances where that is appropriate are few and far between. It does happen in some workplaces but that's a question of office culture and individual shitty temper. My boss would never yell at me--it's unprofessional--and if he did he'd have my resignation on his desk by the end of the day. Opposing counsel is not entitled to yell at me; I am their professional peer and I don't have to put up with it outside the courtroom, and if it's inside a courtroom, the judge is likely to shut that down.

We're lawyers. In this profession, it's widely seen that losing your temper is a sign that you have lost your professional regulation and it discredits your argument. That's true in and out of the courtroom.

I have come near tears in court, but mostly because if I hit a certain point of rage I will tear up. Twice, I've had a judge hand down a ruling so wildly unjust and unexpected that it threw me off balance and into immediate fury, but I've always been able to keep it together and carry on without actually crying.

Mostly the practice of law is just not that personal. Even if someone is yelling, it's not at me as an individual. I don't make the laws, I don't decide the facts, I just take these things and lay them out. If someone's mad, it's not usually a personal attack. And you learn to deal with and understand that kind of anger--often frustration--as you go.

#my lawyer parents are both of the mindset that when you lose your temper you lose the argument #which resulted in a childhood where we didn't get yelled at we got lectured #i can recall very very few occasions where either of them raised their voice at us #and like yes anger does not negate a valid argument #it is appropriate in some circumstances #but most of the time it does not make a person more credible.

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flowercrowngods · 11 months

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based on this concept of steve and mike coming out to each other

🤍 also on ao3

The sun is setting in beautiful hues of pink and purple, tinging the town of Hawkins, Indiana, in a light of serenity and beauty it doesn’t really deserve. Steve’s hands are gripped tight around the steering wheel as he carefully scans the road and the houses he passes.

He almost misses the bike where it’s lying on the curb, carelessly discarded by the looks of it, and a tinge of worry shadows his frown. Worry that doesn’t quite dissipate when he spots the figure sitting on the roof, almost black against the lilac colour of the sky, but he breathes a sigh of relief. He considers grabbing the radio to let the others know he found Mike, but decides against it. Something tells him that maybe they’ll take a while. Something tells him there’s more to Will’s stunned silence and Mike’s sudden departure from where they were all hanging out at Steve’s after another successful Hellfire session.

With a sigh, Steve cuts the engine and gets out of the car, keeping his eyes on Mike the whole time — ready for him to take off again, ready to go sit a while and wait for him to come back. But Mike doesn’t move, even after he shuts the door and approaches the Wheelers’ house. He doesn’t acknowledge Steve when he pulls himself up to the roof, easier this time than the first time he did this.

There’s a snide comment in the air between them, a version of Mike that would have lashed out at him, made fun of and insulted him. But this one just sits there, hands in his lap, frown on his face, and stares ahead.

“What do you want,” he asks eventually, though it doesn’t have the kind of heat that Steve expects. He barely even sounds like a teenager. Just sort of… dejected. Steve aches for him; just a little bit.

“Just making sure you’re alright,” Steve says, shrugging, looking ahead as well so Mike doesn’t feel watched. Or seen, maybe.

Because the thing is, Steve does see him. He sees the way he looks at Will sometimes, and the way his eyes fill with something that can only be described as yearning, or aching, followed by regret and fear. Which always, always turn into anger. Into frustration. Into snide comments and rolled eyes and walls that keep getting an inch added to them each day. It’s never directed at Will, that anger, and rarely at the rest of the Party, but Steve still sees it. Gets the worst of it and takes it, because he knows something about how that feels.

He knows something about looking at someone like that, about feeling that fear, that regret, that worry that come with it. He knows something about never really daring to meet someone’s eyes for fear of what they would see.

“I’m alright,” Mike says, sounding anything but. There’s a bitterness in his voice. Frustration in the way his thumb is picking at the skin of his fingers. Confusion in the tension of his shoulders, and Steve feels like he only needs to make one wrong move, say one wrong word, make a single sound that’s off key to the melody of this moment, and Mike will jump off the roof and take off again with his bike.

So all he says, after a moment’s consideration, is, “Cool.” Like he believes him. Giving Mike room to breathe, room to pretend. He knows something about that, too.

He knows and he sees and he feels.

And suddenly he wants to say something he’s never said before, something he didn’t even get to tell Robin because she knew and saw and felt, too, taking something from him that he hasn’t yet been ready to reclaim for himself.

And maybe it’s because he sees something of himself in the way Mike holds himself, in the way he snaps at anyone willing to listen, in the way he frowns in regret and barely meets anyone’s eyes except when it’s in challenge — and, most of all, in the way he never, never meets Will’s eyes. In the way he looks away when the other boy turns to him, and in the way his eyes will snap back and take in everything about his best friend when he’s not aware of it.

Maybe it’s because the sky is pink and lilac and purple above them, allowing for a certain magic to happen, allowing for a bravery that doesn’t come easy to him; but as he sits on the roof next to Mike Wheeler, the only one of the Party he never really connected with, he closes his eyes against the breeze that catches in his hair and opens his jacket a little further, slithering beneath the fabric as if in a brief embrace, a nudge, a sign to take this leap, and takes a deep breath.

His heart is picking up its pace inside his chest, taking this leap along wit him, and pulls up one of his legs to wrap his hands around it — just to have something to hold onto.

He opens his mouth once, twice, three times, but the words never really come out. They don’t know how, and he’s beginning to tremble a little with it, tension building in his chest where the words are still locked away, hidden among layers of truth.

Mike looks over with a frown and eyes him warily. It makes Steve want to laugh, this sudden change of pace, but he just keeps staring ahead; even when Mike asks, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Steve says. And then then dam is broken and breaking further, and with another deep breath, still not meeting Mike’s eyes, instead focusing on the tree tops in the distance that shine in hues of purple, he finally says, “I’m kind of dating Eddie Munson.”

And just like that, it’s out. He’s out.

He doesn’t know if the world still spins, if time still passes, if he still breathes, because for a moment there is only silence. Mike stops picking at the skin of his fingers, Steve stops trembling, and neither of them moves.

It’s both anticlimactic and momentous, this silence between them when their eyes meet. When the words unfold and grow wings, when Mike understands, his eyes growing big with something that Steve can’t quite read with how tense he is despite his best efforts.

The silence stretches between them, surpassing comfort and overstaying its welcome, and suddenly it’s Steve who feels like he’s about to take off if Mike so much as twitches his brows.

“You… What?”

Forget it, Steve wants to say. Nothing.

But also, I’m in love with Eddie Munson. And I used to be in love with Nancy. And that’s okay. Both of that, it’s okay.

He ends up repeating his words, though, because they know what it’s like to be spoken now. “Eddie. I’m kind of dating Eddie.”

“But…” It’s Mike now whose mouth is opening and closing without saying anything. Mike who’s blinking, trembling a little, twitching, picking at his skin again, moving further along his hand this time to pinch the skin between his thumb and pointer finger. Steve almost reaches out to stop him, but he doesn’t really dare to.

“But?” he prompts after a while, not quite comfortable with this loaded kind of silence.

“Eddie’s a boy.”

But Tammy Thompson is a girl.

“I know,” Steve says, his tone carefully neutral, wanting to see, to wait where Mike takes this, to hear what’s on his mind, to watch the wheels turn and the gears shift. He feels awfully raw and open, vulnerable with someone who hasn’t been treating that with care yet. But there’s something about this moment that feels bigger than his own fears, bigger than the light nausea settling in his gut; far more important than the way he wants to run and hide, away from the scrutiny.

“And…” Mike continues, still battling the words inside his head. Steve wonders if there are too many or none at all. “But you… You loved Nancy.”

Ah. Smart boy. “I did,” Steve says with a small smile. “And it was never a lie. But I found that… Yeah, I can kinda like boys, too, y’know? And that’s, like, okay.”

A beat. A frown. A confused, hopeful, small, “It is?”

Steve just nods, smiling in reassurance and relief at equal measures. Silence settles once more, now that the sky has darkened into a deeper, darker blue; but it’s not as loaded this time, not as tense. It’s an invitation. An offering. A promise of I’m here, I’m with you, you can take as long as you need. To get down from the roof, to come back, to come out of wherever you think you need to hide from the world.

Mike takes it. He stays, pulling up his leg, too, mirroring Steve’s pose and staring ahead, but not as far away. He seems alert, seems to be thinking rather than dwelling, seems to be gearing up for something. Steve watches and sees and knows, remaining patient beside him, his chin resting on his knee as Mike learns to deal with this new world that has been presented to him. This new world that comes with opportunities and chances and possibilities that are scary and big and difficult to make.

“Y’know,” Mike starts at last, interrupting the silence, playing with it, his voice hushed and quiet to keep it from disappearing completely. “Lucas, when he had that championship game? He told us, Dustin and me, that we didn’t have to be the losers this time. The nerds. The outcasts. Different. And all I wanted was to scream at him, because…”

Mike swallows his words, keeping them from tumbling out of his mouth, and Steve aches for him again. He wants to reach out, wants to say it’s okay, tell him it’s alright, to take his time. But he waits in silence, lets Mike find the bravery he needs on his own, and waits.

“Because how could he say that, you know? How could he, when… Will wasn’t there. And all I did, all I ever did anymore, was miss him. And I loved El, I knew I did. And she was gone, too, but…”

He trails off again, and this time Steve picks it up. To let him know he’s not alone. To let Mike know he understands what he’s saying. He understands. “But she’s not Will. You needed Will.”

“But I shouldn’t!” Mike explodes suddenly, riled up because Steve adds fuel to the fire, because Steve has that same fire, too; and because they are so, so similar when they want to be. “And now he’s back and it should be fine, I shouldn’t be feeling like this, it doesn’t even make sense! How can I…”

Steve looks at him, at his expression that is nothing but lost — completely and utterly. He’s seen it on the bathroom floor at the mall; high out of his mind as he was, he’ll never forget the way Robin looked at him, the sheer crestfallen expression. All that confusion, all that fear and frustration and, in the end, resignation. He’s seen it in the mirror, and he’s seen it in those pretty brown eyes that he just can’t get out of his head anymore.

He offers, gently, “How can you need him when he’s right there? How can you love him when a year ago you loved El?”

And Mike just looks at him before he deflates completely, his shoulders falling along with his face. He nods. Shrugs. Looks away and hides his face behind his leg.

Steve sighs softly, watching the boy and speaking the words he wants to say the sixteen year-old version of himself. “I don’t know,” he says truthfully. “I really don’t, and it sucks sometimes, having this need to, like, decide. Or understand. Or stop and be like the rest of them.” Like Robin and Eddie, or like the rest of the world. “But I like to think, sometimes, that maybe it’s a good thing. That there’s just… I don’t know, it sounds corny as hell, but like, there’s just so much love to give, we can’t even stick to only boys or girls, y’know.”

“That does sound real corny as fuck, man,” Mike says, and back is that long suffering tone of his, back is that eye roll and the twitching elbow, ready to nudge Steve in the side. It’s still tinged with that vulnerability, not quite Mike yet, but it’s an offering.

One of many tonight, it seems.

Steve grins, a bit lopsided and raw, shoving Mike gently as he remembers something he overheard once. “Sorry, mister Heart of our group, but I don’t think you have any leg to stand on here.”

That makes Mike freeze, though, and he stares at Steve wide-eyed; caught. Exposed. Reminded.

“What did you say?”

“Uh,” Steve falters, not sure where he went wrong — or if he went wrong at all. “I overheard Will calling you that, talking about you to, uhm. Someone. I don’t know. Why, what’s— What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Mike says, way too quickly, pulling away again with everything he has, hiding behind those walls once more, and Steve feels whiplash from it.

“Mike,” he says, his voice quiet and gentle as he turns to face him completely.

“No.”

“It’s okay,” Steve says. Promises, as much as he can.

“Shut up!”

“You’re not wrong or bad or broken. It’s okay, you’re okay.”

“I said, shut up, Steve.”

“You should see the way he looks at you, too. You should go talk to him. You—“

Mike lashes out, finally coming out from behind those walls again, only to shove at Steve, to push him away — hard enough for him to lose his balance and almost fall off the roof, clenching one hand on the edge, the other in the rainwater gutter with a bitten-off curse.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” Mike reaches for him immediately, snapping out of whatever anger Steve caused, and pulling him back until he’s safe again, apologising over and over, dead to Steve’s promises that it’s alright. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, Steve, I’m so—“

He pulls Mike against his chest, finally reaching out to hold the boy who always pushes people away when they get too close — quite literally, too.

But he doesn’t shove this time, doesn’t move out of Steve’s grasp as the mumbled apologies become heaving sobs.

“It’s okay, you’re okay, you’re so okay, Mike,” Steve tells him over and over as he holds him. The sky above is almost black now and Steve lets Mike cry into his chest.

It takes a while for Mike to calm down, but Steve just holds him through it, ready to let go whenever Mike wants to pull back and snap out of it again — but he never does, and Steve feels a certain kind of affection for the boy that is usually reserved for Lucas or Dustin.

At last, when he’s calmed down, Mike pulls back a little. “Do you really… Does it… Is it really okay?”

Can it be okay? Can I really like both? Is that not just me, being broken and wrong and bad? Will I get the chance to not be alone?

Steve swallows hard, and his voice is hoarse when he says, “Yeah. It’s really okay. ‘N’ I’m with you, yeah? If someone gives you shit for it. Or if you need a reminder.”

And Mike — puffy eyed, snotty nosed, so, so young — looks at him with those trusting eyes and nods, like he believes Steve. Like he trusts him. Like he hopes.

“Just don’t fucking shove me off your roof again.”

Ans just like that, the spell is broken, the tension is lifted, and silence has left them, as Mike almost chokes on a laugh and shoves at him again, lightly this time, before jumping off the roof so Steve can’t retaliate.

“Asshole,” he mutters, shaking his head as he, too, jumps off the roof, dusting off his pants as he watches Mike grabbing his bike. “Hey, Micycle,” he calls, cackling when Mike flips him the bird. “You want a ride back?”

Mike stops, considering as Steve casually flicks his keys into the air and catches them expertly. “What kinda music do you got?”

“The Clash, ‘cause Eddie hates them.”

“Yeah, that’s because they suck!”

Steve snorts, opening the driver’s side door. “Y’know, they’re one of Will’s favourites, actually.”

He watches Mike freeze with a grin on his face, knowing there’s no way the boy would take the bike.

“You’re so annoying,” Mike sighs as he brings his bike close to the garage and carefully lays it on the grass this time before hurrying over to Steve, getting in on the front, rolling his eyes when Steve cackles. “I don’t know why Eddie would date you—“

His words are drowned out when Steve turns up Train in Vain, drumming along on the steering wheel with a shit eating grin. Though the atmosphere is wildly different now, the spell broken and the bubble burst, it’s undeniable that something happened between them. Something big, something important.

Something that makes Mike’s annoyed, long-suffering expression be broken by the smile he’s trying to hide. It makes Steve laugh, elated and feeling something that’s much, much bigger than he himself ever could be.

It’s going to be okay. So, so okay.

Before they know it, they’re pulling up to Steve’s and he turns off the car, is about to get out when Mike makes him still again.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Hm?”

“I think it’s cool. You and Eddie.”

He smiles, relief and fondness washing over him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks.” He reaches over and ruffles Mike’s hair — a wild mane these days, but they could make it work with some care and some products. “Now go get your man, lover boy.”

“God, you suck so much, you’re so annoying!”

Steve’s cackling again when the passenger door slams shut and Mike lets himself into his house.

He spots a figure in the dark, their face lighting up when they take a drag of a cigarette — and Steve’s heart stumbles in his chest. He scrambles to get out, attempting to look calm and collected, even though Eddie always manages to see right through him.

“Hello, stranger,” he says, leaning against the wall beside Eddie, hiding away in the dark, where the world won’t see their shoulders touch, or their fingers tentatively playing with each other before they can’t take it no longer and lace their hands, holding on tight.

“Hi,” Eddie breathes. “How’d it go?”

“Fine, I think. But, uhm… I told him. About me. About us. That, uh. That okay?”

Even in the dark, Steve can feel eyes on him, but he just stares ahead, opting instead to give his warm hand a squeeze. He smiles when Eddie’s thumb begins to draw patterns on his palm.

“Hmm. Very. You think they’ll be okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, stealing Eddie’s cigarette from his mouth and pulling it between his own lips. “Yeah, I think they will be.”

#steve & mike #steve harrington #mike wheeler #steddie #byler #pre-relationship byler #real hesitant to use the pairing tags tho 🥺😭#this kinda ran away from me i feel like i’m gonna have to try again with better words but here’s what i got for a first try #i write this whole 3.2k words thing tonight it is 2am i should proofread this but i have a lecture early in the morning i get 5h of sleep #(but only if i fall asleep right this instant which. ain’t happening chief. anyway uh depression era words?#dio words #and yes the bisexual light of this whole scene is important thanks for asking

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astrum99 · 3 months

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Do you think bugs fall in love?

Their small bodies host even tinier brains. Built to crawl through soil and rocks bigger than itself. Running on a simple software bouncing between eat, sleep, fight, flight, and copulate.

V1 is smarter than a bug. It must be. It’s a war machine, so it must be. Its programming is complex enough to fry several motherboards; the internals are heated from constant, unrelenting processing needs. If it updates its optical data intake to any greater degree than these rough, messy polygons, it’d surely perish from the overwhelming information.

V1 is built to kill first, survive second. To be fair, survival would ensure more killing, so it’d be more effective. Moving through the battlefield, culling lives, drawing blood. Perfectly aligned with its programmed objectives, then.

Gabriel is smarter than a bug. He must be. He’s an angel, so he must be. He’s one of the best soldiers in the heavenly realm. Armour and swords glistened with pride and justice. He sees all. He judges all. His loyalty and perfect track record have earned him a high rank within the order. Leaving behind the creaturely "it". His light burns hot and bright within his constitution.

Gabriel is built as a messenger of the Father, then a judge of Hell. To be fair, the role of a judge was assigned to him by the council, so he supposes that his placement can be summed up as the bearer of the divine authority to bring right to all other creatures. Perfectly aligned, then.

Bugs… Well, they’re the same. I suppose. Small beings. Running pre-programmed orders derived from centuries of evolution: eat, sleep, fight, flight, and copulate. No role. No responsibilities.

Bugs are built naturally and fully, unlike humankind; but formed and ready to go within seconds from their births, like machines and angels.

So. Do they live?

When the machine and the angel escape their chains, do they see themselves in bugs?

Bugs are born to live, temporarily, fleetingly, yet live nonetheless. Do they, then, deserve to live, freeing and meaninglessly. No role. No responsibilities.

So. Do bugs love?

Do they learn that they can go beyond their basic structures? Do they see their own reflection in each other’s compound eyes? Do they recognize each other’s bodies, scents, heat? Do they feel the desire for closeness?

To flutter wings like a dance of waltz. To brush antennae like butterfly kisses. To greet and caress and lie next to each other near their death.

To move through the sky in battle, in passion. To clash swords and fists and bullets. To greet and caress and lie next to each other near their death.

The same cells in the same blood coursing beneath the same suit of exoskeletons.

Machine, angel, bug. Boiled down to the barest essence of existence; crisp simplicity.

To live, to love.

#(im thinking abt how angels have a default pronoun of it/its and went insane – they’re so bugs; like machine)#v1 ultrakill #ultrakill #gabv1el #gabriel ultrakill #az thoughts #also if this flops im flinging myself into the sun #is this any good; is it; is it <- desperate #im just really tired rn i think; its fine #wrote between lectures; thought abt queueing but whatever its fine #got like 4 group projects and a giant assignment and no free time during the last weekend i am fine i am fine i am fine #its fine for me to write Things instead of working on stuff this is destressing its fine #i need to be spun in a washing machine and left on a hanger to dry for approximately 12 hours and then ironed for way too long #<- going insane but in a bad way #someone pls take me out (date or murder; surprise me)

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colorisbyshe · 3 months

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mattel is owned by an israeli who was promoting the ~october 7th “documentary” (propaganda)

so maybe less caping for the barbie movie and crying about how it was “snubbed” when it got at least 5 noms too many lmfao

like… the oscar’s TO THIS DAY are racist as hell, are used to distract from real life atrocities, and here you are crying about a billion dollar movie not getting enough noms

free promo to go into mattel’s ceo’s zionist pockets lmfao.

#it was effectively a marvel movie for white feminists #a “’i got that reference’ burger for girls who went to one gender studies lecture once #and a ‘boyfriend test’ for the tiktok girls #who are currently trying to get their bfs to peel an orange for them

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cattamouche · 4 months

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do you guys think scaras handwriting would be neat or messy?

to me, he has always come off as a perfectionist, so I feel like that would definitely apply to his handwriting as well. like ik his penmanship is crazy. maybe a little too crazy. sometimes he gets carried away with trying to make his letters pretty that they're almost unintelligible type of crazy, and he would hate you for not being able to read it but it's literally not your fault that he's tryharding (yes it is. why else do you think he would put extra care than usual into his handwriting when it's only meant for you to read?).

he doesn't want his letters to look like slop but he accidentally overdoes it, which does look pretty at first glance, but then you actually try to read it and there's too many loops, it's a bit messy and a little too slanted. there are imperfections in his perfectionism and it's something he hates but it's so endearing that you can't help but laugh a little, to which he promptly sighs and mumbles little jabs at you (that he really doesn't mean, but you already know that), before he begrudgingly takes the paper from your hands and reads it to you in slight embarrassment.

and you really can't complain because there's nothing more comforting than the soft sound of his smooth voice :)

#lunes rambles #theres also something really cute about messy handwriting scara #but i just cant imagine it being his like. main handwriting #like j think its only messy when hes bored as hell at a lecture taking notes #IF hes taking notes and not doodling #but let me know what u think :)#i love hearing ppls headcanons #i got this idea from someone on twitter saying they think hes a messy handwriting guy #scaramouche x reader #scara x reader #wanderer x reader #scara fluff #wanderer fluff #scaramouche fluff

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alluraaaa · 7 months

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When the paladins touched down on Earth, it quickly became Reunion Central. Not that Keith has a problem with it, he’s just unsure of how to approach it. He doesn’t exactly have anyone to return to.

However, he doesn’t have to think about that, the decision is made for him.

He’s pulled into many a meeting of the family, given introductions he immediately forgets and hearing stories about himself. Hunk, Pidge, and Lance are thrilled to show their first families their second one. Keith, Allura, Coran, and Romelle are passed around like trading cards to the tune of “These are my parents!”

Though Keith will admit he’s avoiding Lance’s family. Nothing against them personally, it’s just… there’s so many of them, and they’re all as touchy feely as Lance. He appreciates a good group hug from the team, but it’d be different with people he’s only heard stories about.

Luckily, he’s saved from a social interaction he doesn’t want to participate in yet.

“Keith. Akira. Kogane.”

Unluckily, it’s replaced by a less favorable one.

Keith stiffens, staring but unseeing at Hunk’s grandmother. She, and the rest of the Garretts, turn to the source of the full name yelled across the way. Keith… doesn’t. He stares at the ground, unable to hide his grimace as he hears boots marching towards him.

Someone please put him back into a magic robo-cat that shoots lasers. He’d gladly get into a space fight than talk to him.

“Where the hell did you go!?” he asks, grabbing Keith by the shoulder and turning him around. Keith stares up into brown eyes covered by glasses, rage in those irises. Behind his head, Shiro is sending him a sympathetic smile, unable to stop his fiancé once on the warpath.

“Your brother goes missing and you think the best reaction is to do the same!?” Adam all but screeches.

“Hi Adam,” Keith manages. He missed him, he really did, but he also 100% knew this was coming.

“Don’t Hi Adam me, young man! Where did you go? Do you know how much I was looking for you? I was so worried! And you didn’t even say anything, you just left! Right after I get told my fiancé is dead!”

“Sorry.”

“You’re not sorry and we both know that.”

“Yeah…”

Adam sighs, like this is the biggest problem he has right now, and pulls Keith into a tight embrace. But not too tight. He still remembers how Keith likes his hugs. Keith hugs back.

He’s just as warm as Keith remembers him, and he still smells the same, like vanilla and cinnamon. It’s moments like these where Keith gets why Shiro fell in love with him.

“You’re grounded, by the way.”

“What!?”

#i wrote this months ago but forgot to post it #cue the garrison trio watching their chill ass professor W lecture their badass teammate who looks like he got caught by a parent #and they all laugh at keith <3 family things #keith #adam&keith #fic #mine #txt #long post #kiiiinda. just in case

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