#how talented

[lilislegacy]

perseus jackson: the OG pjo incorrect quote writer

[chloesimaginationthings]

Vanessa is about rich as hell in FNAF

[morganbritton132]

Musical prodigy Steve, who is way too casual about this gift. He plays seven instruments and could read sheet music before he could spell his own name, and literally never mentions it.

He has perfect pitch and can perfectly replicate a song he’s heard once on the radio. If you gave him an instrument he’s never played before and an hour, he’d made something beautiful out of it. And no one knows.

Well, some people know.

His mom still signs him up for recitals and performances out of state, but Steve never talks about it. He just says he has something to do with him mom that weekend, and then goes to preform in a concert hall in front of hundreds of people.

Honestly, Steve kinda assumed everybody was like that.

His parents never made it seem like it was a big deal. Hell, he doesn’t even consider that he could go to college for music (not that his dad would ever allow it). It’s basically a hobby.

It’s only after concussion number two when he’s sitting in English class listening to Eddie Munson complaining for a week straight about how he has an ‘epic vision’ for a ‘new song’ but it’ll never come to fruition because he’d need a full string orchestra.

And then another week listening to him hum the melody of the song.

And then a couple more days with the studio equipment that his parents got him for Christmas that Steve starts to think that maybe this ability isn’t all that common.

Eddie - still complaining - just stares at him with shock and confusion when Steve sits a cassette down in front of him and tells him to, “Stop talking.”

Honestly, that should be it, right? Steve has spent more effort making mix tapes than that cassette and those were barely a blip in the week so…

So, why is Eddie Munson confronting him at his locker the next morning? Eddie’s hands are all over the place like, “Did you really find and pay an entire orchestra to play my music just so I’d be quiet?”

“No,” Steve says slowly because that’s insane. “I played your music so you’d be quiet… it clearly didn’t work.”

“You can play…”

“Yeah?”

Eddie just stares at him like he’s something worth staring at and then asks seriously, “Do you want to be in my band?”

[the-mang0tree]

check out ilm's case study !!!!! check it out right now !!!!

[suntails]

touch the spindle, touch it i say!

[wanderingxmoth]

seen other people draw these three goobers together

[dclovesdanny]

DcxDp prompts

Dan/Danny/Dani additions 1/5

Danny is adoption bait to the Gotham rogues.

Danny only went to Gotham university because it had a lot of ambient ectoplasm and he could fast track to the arrow space department in Wayne enterprises if he worked hard enough. He didn’t need adopting, he was already 19 years old and had a (strained, very distant) relationship with his parents. When he moved to Gotham, he expected to have to deal with people wanting to make him a new Wayne, not with all of the Gotham rogues immediately trying to adopt him.

So what if he defended Killer Croc from some asshole cops, accidentally exposing his fangs and had a conversation about being dehumanized with him that led to them having dinner on Wednesdays?

So what if he got into a serious conversation about the green gas effect and pollution (Sam had taught him well) with Poison Ivy that result in him coming over for dinner and Harley Quinn declaring him a ‘sweetheart’?

So what if he directed Frostbitw to help Mr. Freeze and now Nora invited him over for brunch on Sundays?

So what if he had a wonderful conversation with the Riddler in which they traded space themed riddles which lead to Riddler seeking him out sometimes for a game?

So what if he helped Mr. cobble pot by making him intangible when some people were driving by in about splash mud on him and he now had a part time job there as a bouncer?

So what if Grundy played tag with him every other Thursday and called him Little Death and offered to eat his chemical engineering teacher who gave him a low grade because he didn’t follow safety precautions?

This didn’t mean he was adoption bait. Shut up Sam.

[mobius-m-mobius]

#there are two types of actors 😂💖

[emryste]

aye whatever you say boss

[grogumaximus]

[meowmoths]

i am so glad that "you wouldn't like me alive" by @ectoplasmranch was the first dp fic i read, it's so so good and will for sure be one of those fics that rattles around in my brain forever. in honor of my molecules being rearranged i would like to donate some eldritch dannys to the cause :]

[thefallenangel2008]

Ok, so we know that Stan makes really silly and cartoonish doodles but what if he could also draw really fucking good? Like, yeah, sure, he was discouraged from making comics, but maybe he still sketched stuff he saw from time to time. Stan was definitely the type of kid to sketch the girl he's crushing on on his notebook during class.

Anyway, cut to post Gravity Falls. They're in the Stan o' War II, and ig Ford is looking for something and he goes to his and Stan's shared room. He sees scattered papers and pencils on Stan's desk and he assumes it's another Lil Stanley comic. Curious, Ford moves aside some papers to get a better look at the his brother's drawing, only to be met with a really impressive and detailed drawing of the Stanleymobile. And he just goes "holy fuck".

[zorangezest]

how do you draw yourself?

ok, now how do you draw the others?

here’s soundwave’s drawings without the vandalism, I imagine he does little doodles!

[swoopswrites]

hi this is exactly how i picture lily in shoulder to shoulder btw

Miss Lily Evans the ICON :))

(also omg look at me finally posting again!!!)

[neodiekido]

buddies :)

[shotmrmiller]

re: rugby team ghoap

it'd been a one-off, seize-the-moment kind of thing. casual hookups aren't really for you, plus you distinctly remember your ex prating on about how the team would only be here for the weekend hence the absolute burning need to go, and you've got work monday.

goodbye, great knowing them. you'd traipsed out of the hotel room with your sneakers in hand, soap's used jersey in the other- a memento of sorts, a trophy. mild serial killer behavior but you reckon since you just became another pearl in their long string of conquests, the least you could do is take something with you that won't be gone with a warm epsom salt bath and a couple of days rest.

("would ye believe yer the prettiest we've ever brought back with us?" right. you know where you stand on that scale, and people like you don't typically pull men like them. another cringe-worthy comment like that and you'd mistake their interest with pity.)

you'd put both jerseys in the wash later that day, and the rattling of your washing machine marked the end of your exciting weekend.

or so you'd thought. from your side of things, you'd wiped your hands clean of their sweat, spit and come and went home, once again falling back into semi-familiarity, expecting to go to work feeling completely relaxed and loose, in more ways than one, while ignoring the photos taken of you and the "star players" at the stadium on social media.

(no one caught your face, what bloody luck.)

when you see them again, it's by pure chance. you'd been ordering a sandwich at a deli down the street, hand already reaching for your wallet when an arm curls around your shoulders, dark, coarse hair of a forearm brushing against your cheek.

cedarwood and citrus. it clings to your senses— a sharp, tangy reminder of that time you'd only look back on when the familiar pang of want pooled searing hot between your legs. small world, you suppose.

"didnae leave a note. stole my jersey. 'm surprised ye didnae leave us money on the table, bonnie." warmth flared beneath your cheeks but you didn't cow to his crude joke.

"i suppose i could've left a tip. what do you want?"

the playful lines around his eyes smoothed as his lips straightened into a firm line, his eyes frostbitten. you ignore the way his touch makes you feel trapped, tethered, a cage made of velvet.

"took my shirt and then didn't show up to a single game after tha'. jus' gettin' wha' i'm owed. unless he's yer favorite."

how can he be your favorite when you know nothing about the sport they play and have no interest in knowing?

"too bad. we come as a package. get yer food, we've a place nearby."

(simon had been nowhere near as good-natured as johnny had about you leaving without a word. made you spit out apologies with swollen lips, only accepted the ones that came with a fluttering of your raw pussy around the splitting thickness of him while soap condescendingly cooed in your ear about lessons having to be learned the hard way.)