#while still hating his old man

[mamamittens]

If Ace wasn't so hung up on his dad, he could have done the funniest thing ever.

Like.

Really fucking funny.

Imagine with me, an Ace that is, at best, annoyed about who his dad is. Like, that's a high bar and the kind that overshadows just about anything you can do.

He could become an incredibly decorated marine and the papers would still go on about his old man's legacy and it's effect on him.

He could be a notorious pirate--and just be portrayed as chasing his old man's shadow.

So, obviously, he still keeps a lid on it.

But he's not afraid to ask about his dad. Particularly if someone knew him. And it's not even a weird question from a pirate cause like, yeah! What was he like?!?

Ace would have more specific questions of course. But in general not that weird to ask. And even less weird if the person he asks clocks him as Roger's son but, obviously, won't make a whole thing out of it cause obvious consequences of that getting out.

A politely kept secret, if you will.

Where am I going with this?

Imagine Ace has a chance to pull some shit on the Marines. Real old guards who know too much to be overwhelmed by force or anything like that. People who rubbed shoulders with his Gramps back in the day.

Imagine, if you will, it's Halloween or Roger's execution anniversary.

A little bit of costuming and well, it's been two decades.

They can be forgiven if they don't realize this 'Ghost Roger' is a bit shorter than they remember.

And Ace just absolutely terrorizes them. Acting exactly like his dad, chasing them around demanding they give him a good fight. Which, they, obviously couldn't do when he was alive either.

Every so often, for a special kind of asshole, Ace plays dress up.

And has the time of his life being a menace. A complete, utter bastard to those poor Marines.

His new folks are utterly floored and try very hard not to die from laughing too hard because it's just... So damn accurate.

Ace didn't grow up with his dad and, arguably, takes after his mom considerably. But in a pinch, he makes one hell of a resurrected Pirate King Gone Mad.

Whitebeard has to remind himself it's just Ace, the urge to jump in and kick ass is so strong. He was good friends with Roger but damn, did that man deserve to get his teeth kicked in a few times. And all those nostalgic feelings come sweeping back.

Ironically, pretending to be his dad is more in line with something Rouge would find sadistically amusing.

He really is a mixed bag of both of his parents personalities.

[clockworkreapers]

There is just something about Brother Riley I really like....

[ken-katayanagi]

I like to think, in a better timeline, one of Augustus’ favorite skills would be Levitation. (Me when I can’t stop making AUs.) (Raz isn’t upset they’ve just been at this a while lol)

[vitaspera]

unhinged calix / viorel yapping commences..

[sukibenders]

Korra hate going up, Aang hate going up, Iroh hate/criticism still at an all time low. Ohhh, these new Avatar rumors need to stay far away from this fandom, please let them not be true!

[sylphwing]

hm. i do not like chilshi 🤔

[sleeperinohs]

thinking about the technocrats and their fantastic shipping dynamics this morning <3 lulu voice to rosie what if i cut you open and held your beating heart. thats romance right

[xxplastic-cubexx]

what 93 clip are we talking abt..

Its that scene from the last episode of 92 where jeans all How Much Do You Love Charles Xavier and eriks blows up all How Dare You Ask Such A Question I Owe That Man My LIFE or w/e

[fortune-maiden]

You can also tell eps 9-10 were Inoue eps because of the 3 minute fight scenes that are largely disconnected from the rest of the episode, and a plot that would fall apart in 2 minutes if people talked to each other :D

[enhanced-operatives-division]

One day I'll draw the ieytd cast with all the flower imagery i want

[cinnabeat]

rememebred everyones kh3 outfits and now im annoyed again

[seithr]

Randomly remembered the half-reason i call my oc-verse by the name it has while laying in bed. One-half of the reason i still knew, but I had forgotten what had truly, really cemented it jointly until now

(it was a song from my favourite band I haven't listened to in a while.)

(the song fit so well at the time, still does, that i needed to hold onto it for the main protagonists forever, by partially naming their story in reference.)

Does this explanation make any sense? Does anyone know why I'm tearing up remembering this. Aahh

[atopvisenyashill]

that scene where tywin calls a meeting to emotionally abuse tyrion & cersei about how upset they are at his sexual abuse & control of them is so darkly funny to me and i finally realized I keep linking it to the scene in the umbrella academy where they all want to talk to the future version of their dad and five is like “why. why do we think this is a good idea” and SURE ENOUGH. terrible british dads is the same.

[aria0fgold]

Whether it be inside of Genshin Impact or outside of it, Childe you are the bane of my existence and I can't believe I still love you even after everything.

[talentforlying]

father grimaldi: forgive me, lord, for i have sinned. constantine: — understatement of the bloody century, that is. father grimaldi: the chapel is closed to the public! who are you? how did you get in here . . .? constantine: did you know vatican city has the highest per-capita crime rate of any nation state in the world? i'd have thought a touch of breaking and entering's pretty much par for the course around here.

so #1, an undeniable slay.

#2, how long do we think he was sitting in the confessional booth waiting for the guy to wake up from ellie's fake vision quest. like an hour? checking his light, practicing his Big Reveal Pose TM? he probably brought a book with him and just shoved it underneath the seat cushion when it was time to show off.

#3, knowing how intensely he studied & continues to study in order to teach himself magic at such an absurdly advanced level without any teachers to formally guide him? and how that level of dedication would absolutely carry over into researching a mark / making sure he had every corner of a confidence scheme nailed down pat? i like to imagine that the day before this meeting was spent with his severely under-caffeinated ass parked at a public library computer, squinting at articles for 'most important things to know about vatican city before you travel' or 'top 10 little-known facts about vatican city' and using the back of his boarding pass to take notes on what would be the best throwaway line to blow off all the usual questions with.

also, he probably woke up still in his travel clothes less than two hours before this scene and had to hustle to get suited up in time for his Dramatic Apparition. the demon blood was boiling so bad in that chapel that it was giving him a killer migraine. he didn't get breakfast so his stomach was growling the ENTIRE time. but all that meant was he had plenty of room to eat UP the runway and that's EXACTLY what the fuck he did.i'm

[free-and-to-none-accountable]

As the lion in our teargarten remembers the nenuphars of his Nile (shall Ariuz forget Arioun or Boghas the baregams of the Marmarazalles from Marmeniere?) it may be, tots wearsense full a naggin in twentyg have sigilposted what in our brievingbust, the besieged bedreamt him stil and solely of those lililiths undeveiled which hat undone him, gone for age, and knew not the watchful treachers at his wake, and theirs to stay. Fooi, fooi, chamermissies! Zeepyzoepy, larcenlads! Zijnzijn Zijnzijn! It may be, we moest ons hasten selves te declareer it, that he reglimmed? presaw? the fields of heat and yields of wheat where corngold Ysit? shamed and shone. It may be, we habben to upseek a bitty door our good township’s courants want we knew’t, that with his deepseeing insight (had not wishing oftebeen but good time wasted), within his patriarchal shamanah, broadsteyne ’bove citie (Twillby! Twillby!) he conscious of enemies, a kingbilly whitehorsed in a Finglas mill, prayed, as he sat on anxious seat, (kunt ye neat gift mey toe bout a peer saft eyballds!) during that three and a hellof hours’ agony of silence, ex profundis malorum, and bred with unfeigned charity that his wordwounder (an engles to the teeth who, nomened Nash of Girahash, would go anyold where in the weeping world on his mottled belly (the rab, the kreeponskneed!) for milk, music or married missusses) might, mercy to providential benevolence’s who hates prudencies’ astuteness, unfold into the first of a distinguished dynasty of his posteriors, blackfaced connemaras not of the fold but elder children of his household, his most besetting of ideas (pace his twolve predamanant passions) being the formation, as in more favoured climes, where the Meadow of Honey is guestfriendly and the Mountain of Joy receives, of a truly criminal stratum, Ham’s cribcracking yeggs, thereby at last eliminating from all classes and masses with directly derivative decasualisation: sigarius (sic!) vindicat urbes terrorum (sicker!): and so, to mark a bank taal she arter, the obedience of the citizens elp the ealth of the ole.

Now gode. Let us leave theories there and return to here’s here. Now hear. ’Tis gode again. The teak coffin, Pughglasspanelfitted, feets to the east, was to turn in later, and pitly patly near the porpus, materially effecting the cause. And this, liever, is the thinghowe. Any number of conservative public bodies, through a number of select and other committees having power to add to their number, before voting themselves and himself, town, port and garrison, by a fit and proper resolution, following a koorts order of the groundwet, once for all out of plotty existence, as a forescut, so you maateskippey might to you cuttinrunner on a neuw pack of klerds, made him, while his body still persisted, their present of a protem grave in Moyelta of the best Lough Neagh pattern, then as much in demand among misonesans as the Isle of Man today among limniphobes. Wacht even! It was in a fairly fishy kettlekerry, after the Fianna’s foreman had taken his handful, enriched with ancient woods and dear dutchy deeplinns mid which were an old knoll and a troutbeck, vainyvain of her osiery and a chatty sally with any Wilt or Walt who would ongle her as Izaak did to the tickle of his rod and watch her waters of her sillying waters of and there now brown peater arripple (may their quilt gild lightly over his somnolulutent form!) Whoforyou lies his last, by the wrath of Bog, like the erst curst Hun in the bed of his treubleu Donawhu.

Best. This wastohavebeen underground heaven, or mole’s paradise which was probably also an inversion of a phallopharos, intended to foster wheat crops and to ginger up tourist trade (its architecht, Mgr Peurelachasse, having been obcaecated lest he should petrifake suchanevver while the contractors Messrs T. A. Birkett and L. O. Tuohalls were made invulnerably venerable) first in the west, our misterbilder, Castlevillainous, openly damned and blasted by means of a hydromine, system, Sowan and Belting, exploded from a reinvented T.N.T. bombingpost up ahoy of eleven and thirty wingrests (circiter) to sternbooard out of his aerial thorpeto, Auton Dynamon, contacted with the expectant minefield by tins of improved ammonia lashed to her shieldplated gunwale, and fused into tripupcables, slipping through tholse and playing down from the conning tower into the ground battery fuseboxes, all differing as clocks from keys since nobody appeared to have the same time of beard, some saying by their Oorlog it was Sygstryggs to nine, more holding with the Ryan vogt it was Dane to pfife. He afterwards whaanever his blaetther began to fail off him and his rough bark was wholly husky and, stoop by stoop, he neared it (wouldmanspare!) carefully lined the ferroconcrete result with rotproof bricks and mortar, fassed to fossed, and retired beneath the heptarchy of his towerettes, the beauchamp, byward, bull and lion, the white, the wardrobe and bloodied, so encouraging (insteppen, alls als hats beliefd!) additional useful councils public with hoofd offdealings which were welholden of ladykants te huur out such as the Breeders’ Union, the Guild of Merchants of the Staple et, a.u.c. to present unto him with funebral pomp, over and above that, a stone slab with the usual Mac Pelah address of velediction, a very fairworded instance of falsemeaning adamelegy: We have done ours gohellt with you, Heer Herewhippit, overgiven it, skidoo!

But t’house and allaboardshoops! Show coffins, winding sheets, goodbuy bierchepes, cinerary urns, liealoud blasses, snuffchests, poteentubbs, lacrimal vases, hoodendoses, reekwaterbeckers, breakmiddles, zootzaks for eatlust, including upyourhealthing rookworst and meathewersoftened forkenpootsies and for that matter, javel also, any kind of inhumationary bric au brac for the adornment of his glasstone honophreum, would, met these trein of konditiens, naturally follow, halas, in the ordinary course, enabling that roundtheworlder wandelingswight, did suches pass him, to live all safeathomely the presenile days of his life of opulence, ancient ere decrepitude, late lents last lenience, till stuffering stage, whaling away the whole of the while (hypnos chilia eonion!) lethelulled between explosion and reexplosion (Donnaurwatteur! Hunderthunder!) from grosskopp to megapod, embalmed, of grand age, rich in death anticipated.

But abide Zeit’s sumonserving, rise afterfall. Blueblitzbolted from there, knowing the hingeworms of the hallmirks of habitationlesness, buried burrowing in Gehinnon, to proliferate through all his Unterwealth, seam by seam, sheol om sheol, and revisit our Uppercrust Sideria of Utilitarios, the divine one, the hoarder hidden propaguting his plutorpopular progeniem of pots and pans and pokers and puns from biddenland to boughtenland, the spearway fore the spoorway.

The other spring offensive on the heights of Abraham may have come about all quite by accidence, Foughtarundser (for Breedabrooda had at length presuaded him to have himself to be as septuply buried as the murdered Cian in Finntown), had not been three monads in his watery grave (what vigilantes and ridings then and spuitwyne pledges with aardappel frittling!) when portrifaction, dreyfussed as ever, began to ramp, ramp, ramp, the boys are parching. A hoodenwinkle gave the signal and a blessing paper freed the flood. Why did the patrizien make him scares with his gruntens? Because the druiven were muskating at the door. From both Celtiberian camps (granting at the onset for the sake of argument that men on the two sides in New South Ireland and Vetera Uladh, bluemin and pillfaces, during the ferment With the Pope or On the Pope, had, moors or letts, grant ideas, grunted) all conditions, poor cons and dives mor, each, of course, on the purely doffensive since the eternals were owlwise on their side every time, were drawn toowards their Bellona’s Black Bottom, once Woolwhite’s Waltz (Ohiboh, how becrimed, becursekissed and bedumbtoit!) some for want of proper feeding in youth, others already caught in the honourable act of slicing careers for family and carvers in conjunction; and, if emaciated nough, the person garrotted may have suggested to whomever he took the ham of, the plain being involved in darkness, low cirque waggery, nay, even the first old wugger of himself in the flesh, whiggissimus incarnadined, when falsesighted by the ifsuchhewas bully on the hill for there had circulated freely fairly among his opposition the feeling that in so hibernating Massa Ewacka, who, previous to that demidetached life, had been known of barmicidal days, cook said, between soups and savours, to get outside his own length of rainbow trout and taerts atta tarn as no man of woman born, nay could, like the great crested brebe, devour his threescoreten of roach per lifeday, ay, and as many minnow a minute (the big mix, may Gibbet choke him!) was, like the salmon of his ladderleap all this time of totality secretly and by suckage feeding on his own misplaced fat.