#but be adorable in public more

[jessieren]

Random photo set but I love how he interacts with the cast and crew in the behind the scenes shots.

He’s so smiley and lovely… he truly seems like a kind, funny and interesting person.

And that’s why we adore him…

Well… and a few other things but mainly for being adorable

And hot

[bunnieswithknives]

You know, considering that Dale has a big interest in anything that can make him money

Would he use his newfound form to make a profit?

I feel as though, if it was Dev who got that bite, he'd totally use it for profit. Be it filming Dev like he's filming a odd dog, or caging him like he's some sort of attraction.

Oh, imagine all the promotions he could do! All the money he could make! All for the low low price of sacrificing his son

Too bad it wasn't Dev who got bit though

As addicted to money as Dale this is, quite literally, his worst nightmare come to life. He is horrified by his body and the idea of letting anybody see him like this is too mortifying to bare. not to mention he fully believes this is direct punishment for his actions.

As for using Dev a money making tool like that... horrifyingly, he probably would if he could get away with hiding that it was his child. That being said this never would have happened to Dev.

[rearviewghost]

one thing that really fascinates me about alex is his devotion to art – and more specifically, how he chooses to get some inspiration from scientific works of what he aims to implement in his art. every time one gets to examine some of his lyrics, or even how he explains these lyrics in an interview, they can be greeted by some bits of actual scientific information. an example is how he named his taquería on the moon with the term “information-action ratio”, coined by the critic neil postman, and referenced it in the song four out of five, something that might also indicate an interesting articulation with postman's concept. the line “cute new places keep on popping up”, for example, can express his well-known sardonic discontent regarding the flood of information being generated and transmitted over and over and, as much as it seems visually appealing and does give the idea of benefiting from advanced technologies, it doesn't really add anything substantial to the receiver's critical thinking – and worse, it distances the information receiver from the sender in a communication channel, according to postman.

what i'm saying with this interpretation is, it's known that alex is enamoured with the idea of gathering a bunch of references and condensing them into a mixture of metaphors in his writing, but it's so thrilling how, at times, we can find some bits of science inside of it – and it's even more exciting, just like playing a puzzle game, to find these references and analyse them by doing a similar research to what he did to create his works.

[tee-hee-hee-i-need-help]

My Maths teacher (for some reason) calls herself a grumpy, shouting, evil cow. She is literally anything and EVERYTHING but those things.

[theswedishpajas]

The man truly can’t take a genuine compliment 🙄

[moonshynecybin]

totally fine if that's not your vibe but i actually meant that ask as girl!vale 😅 in case you just missed that, would that change anything from your answer (wholeheartedly agree btw)?

helpppp i was just fully prepared to accept that you were misgendering ms rossi

[sergeifyodorov]

why are you a straightsid truther

he's straight

[cubffections]

so argenxi . . argenxi at it's finest ꒰ᐡ⸝⸝σ̴̶̷̤ . σ̴̶̷̤⸝⸝꒱꜆

[doctorbrown]

MCFLY JULY ‘24 ⸺ 「 30 / 31 * BLIND SPOT 」

April 16, 1991

“Mom’s gonna lose it when she sees that,” Verne says, scrunching up his face as he studies the nasty bruise swelling up around Jules’ left eye. It’s gnarly—so much so he reaches out to touch it, prompting Jules to swiftly smack his wrist away—purples and reds and blacks blossoming out from his eye, his upper eyelid swollen, encroaching on the eye itself, and Verne whistles, not envying his brother’s position.

That looks like it hurts.

Last time that happened to him, his face ached for days and Curie only made it worse, trying to help with the bruising by licking it clean. It was almost as bad as the scolding lecture Mom had given him.

“I know,” Jules says, heaving a sigh of resignation well older than his twelve years. “I don’t know what’s going to be worse, her worrying about this and sitting us—”

“—You! Don’t drag me into this, it wasn’t my fault this time!”

“—down for another one of her lectures about why we shouldn’t let ourselves get provoked into fights with the other kids or the look on Dad’s face.”

“Mom,” Verne answers without a moment’s hesitation, “no question. Dad only freaked last time ‘cause the school called him and made him come down there and made it sound like something bad happened to you.”

All the kids in the school had talked about it for a week, how crazy old Doctor Brown burst into the school like a madman and chewed out not only the principle, but the teacher who’d allowed such an incident to happen right under her nose.

Peter Weintraub spent the whole next day telling anyone who would listen that Doctor Brown got so angry he threatened them with one of his creepy death rays and Verne nearly marched all the way to the upperclassman’s lunchroom to even out Peter’s stupid, smug face with a second black eye.

God, he really hated that kid sometimes. And Jules had to sit in classrooms with him every day. The thought nearly makes Verne shudder.

Jules barks out a sound between a huff and a laugh. “Yeah, Dad doesn’t get angry often but he really wasn’t happy that day. But that just gave Peter another reason to start running his mouth like the jerk he is.”

Verne kicks a rock in their path, sending it flying down the street. “He musta messed up real bad this time if you hit him after you promised Mom you wouldn’t.”

Throwing his head back, Jules lets out the loudest, most exaggerated sound of exasperation and disgust a twelve-year-old could possibly manage. “He started going off about Dad again! And not with the usual stuff either. I still hate it that people think Dad’s just some crazy failure ‘cause we can’t tell them about the You-Know-Whats or all the other cool stuff he’s been inventin’ for them, but you know what he says.”

That it doesn’t bother him because it’s nothing he hasn’t heard all his life, and probably in far worse ways than anything these kids can come up with. Verne nods, understanding all-too-well.

“So fine, he can say whatever he wants and if the others laugh with him, they don’t know anything. But this time he went too far, talking about how Dad’s too old, sayin’ stuff about Mom, and I just lost it.” Jules goes to rake his hand down his face and thinks better of it at the last second, diverting his energy into following Verne’s lead and sending a rock hurtling down the street with all the pent-up anger he can summon. “Next thing I know I’m hitting him and we’re yelling and—ugh, Mom’s gonna kill me.”

“Mom’s not gonna kill you. But she is gonna give you That Look that makes you wish you could steal one of Dad’s Machines.” Suddenly, Verne snaps his fingers, taken by a brilliant idea. “I bet Uncle Marty’s got some makeup at his place we could use to cover that up. And he won’t rat on us to Mom and Dad.”

[hournites]

I saw Hournite and immediately rushed to send in an ask! 😁 "Is this a date?" -Rhuben

Homemakers

Beth wiped silky cobweb film on her patchwork jeans. Mindful to not let her upbringing with wealthy parents and a spotless home cloud her judgment, she stepped away from the giant 80s curtains, continuing to meander through the fixer-upper. The wooden floorboards were swollen with old water damage and spreading apart by the front foyer, creaking beneath her tennis shoes. A stubborn stale smell lingered in the air, even after Rick opened windows to stop her sneezing.  

“I know it needs work.” Rick glanced around at the stains and barebones furniture, seeing his home through her eyes for the first time. “A lot of work.” 

“That doesn’t matter.” She turned around, full with so much gratitude. To her knowledge, Rick had never let anyone visit his house. When he casually suggested they stop by because he forgot his hourglass in his room, she nearly kicked her feet with giddy. She was happy just to be on his property for the first time, she didn’t expect him to give her a private tour. “I think this place is wonderful.” 

“It’s a shithole,” he corrected, shrugging a shoulder. “There was a pipe leak just last week. You don’t have to lie.” 

It wasn’t a lie. She wasn’t about to deny that it needed serious TLC. The rugs could use a good beating and every room she saw was practically begging for a deep clean. The only mirror was dirty and cracked in the bathroom. The couch could at minimum use a cover, but honestly needed to be replaced…Swiffer could do a commercial here for their mops. No dishwasher and a clothesline for his flannel to dry. At the same time, in all its depressing neglected glory, many trinkets belonging to Rick’s parents were left behind by Matt Harris, writing them off as worthless in value. It was humbling and reassuring to see the reminders of the house this once was. It brought Rick’s past alive. 

In fact, she was certain she could transform this into a rustic, positive and hospitable space Rick wouldn’t have to feel ashamed of. With some flowers in window planters and a few fruit trees for Grundy, they could even revive the farm and make it beautiful again. 

“Nonsense.” Sitting down on a soft duvet in the room they ended up in, she slipped her hands behind herself to curb the itch she had to fetch her goggles and measure dimensions. She flashed him a grin instead. “It just needs a trip to Ikea.”

“…Ikea?” he repeated, like it was a foreign word. 

Beth gave him an excited nod. “Mmhm!” 

Rick crossed his arms with a strange look on his face, leaning against the doorpost as she looked around, noticing a mismatching vibe she couldn’t quite place. She sniffed after another tickling sneeze, nose no longer quite so clogged with dust mite. An earthy scent greeted her at last. A hint of sandalwood and trees.

 “It smells so good here.” She settled in, crossing one leg underneath the other and pulled out her phone for Ikea’s web browser while ideas were still fresh. “Best spot so far.” 

“This is my room,” he told her, amused. “And that’s my bed, so you’re smelling me.” 

She gaped at him, ignoring the flush warming her cheeks. “Your room?” 

But there wasn’t a single personal item here on display! No books, snack wrappers, or any pictures…There was the bed and a chair, and, yes, admittedly now she did see his phone charger plugged into the outlet in the corner, but…she at least expected the hourglass to be somewhere noticeable. 

“What?” he teased. “Didn’t think my bed would be made?”

She stood up, sensitive to what was growing between them and unsure how to proceed. “I didn’t say that!” she protested hotly. 

“I know, B. I’m kidding.” 

His tone went soft. Like he loved to ruffle her feathers for the opportunity to gently set her at ease. 

Opening his door to her also opened a part of  himself that Beth always craved after. As guarded as he first was that she knew everything about where he came from, he’d quickly adapted and affirmed her presence much like the baby steps it took for Rick to invite her to sit shotgun in the Mustang. And now it was her unofficial official seat. 

“But why is it always you now,” Yolanda used to whine when Rick picked them up for school. Beth would shrug innocently, like she hadn’t been aware their dynamic was charged from the start. 

She wasn’t sure how long he’d ever had the peace they fostered in the Mustang, knowing this was the very place he’d used the car for to escape. It wasn’t lost on her that their friendship filled a lot of voids. Connection, solidarity, and, well, partnership. Which, at first, worked in the traditional sense on the team, but had now sailed into the uncharted gray area beyond intense friendship. She couldn’t help longing for more. And, she knew, she was the one that usually tested the boundary as the extrovert of the two, but it secretly thrilled her when it was Rick’s doing, which he was more often. 

It had only occurred to her that she’d never let Rick into her bedroom all the times he’d stayed over. Why was that? Her parents never set out any ground rules. And there she was, curling up in his private space–She could only dream what was running through his mind. Was there such a thing as too comfortable? How much was too much?

“And—” she continued to justify, even though Rick never asked. “I likely have your scent memorized because I’m familiar with your car. Or something.”

“Sure.” Rick lifted an eyebrow at her, and kept going. “Or, you just really like my aftershave.” Bending down, he pulled out a storage container from under his bed with a padlock and that had all his stuff. 

Beth glanced out the window at the field of dry grass, hoping he’d open it too when the room only grew warmer as more unwarranted thoughts of Rick shaving leisurely swirled around her head. 

Meanwhile, Rick latched onto the golden chain of the hourglass and slipped it round his neck. She decided she’d rather be embarrassed about finding such random things Rick does attractive than stay sad about the state of his living habits, clearly developed from living with his uncle. He deserved a teenage room, not a hotel safe. Now that thought drove her to wrap her arms around his middle. 

“Thanks for bringing me here.” 

Rick returned her hug hesitantly, genuinely confused. “Is this just an excuse to smell me?” 

“No,” she said with a roll of her eyes, a teeny tiny fib–she’d already buried her face into his shirt. But this was not the time for that, so she sacrificed the sandalwood for propriety and regretfully pulled away. “I know it matters, that’s all. You could’ve told me to wait in the car but you didn’t. So, thank you.” 

He nodded and Beth stepped back, folding her arms.“So, Ikea after training?” 

She watched him nervously rub his jaw and added, “We can set a budget. And you get veto power over anything we get.” She crossed her heart but in their business, didn’t think it prudent to hope to die. 

“Okay, but I veto.” 

Her hand is still over her chest. “You veto.” 

“It’s my budget not yours.” 

“Okay, but can I buy a few things?” 

“Define a few.” 

She held out a hand. “Ten things?” She saw his face twist and quickly adjusted. “Five things! Five things you really want!”

“One thing. Maybe. I’ll pay you back later. And, I’d need your advice anyway so don’t give me that look. And this is my house, not yours.” 

She saluted as he shepherded her out of his room with a hand on the small of her back.  “Message clear and understood.” 

-.-

“Is this a date?” She peered into a display box with a dozen different door knobs in one of the Ikea showrooms. Rick gave her a long sideways glance as he pushed a cart twice the length of Courtney’s staff. 

“What?” She laughed in his pointed silence. “People go on Ikea dates all the time! They browse interior decor, ask probing questions to get to know each other, share Pinterest ideas to share their dream house aesthetics, and find pieces that fit both styles. There’s a restaurant to eat Swedish meatballs for dinner…Not to mention the teamwork required afterwards for assembly.”

“You think building furniture together with wordless instructions is romantic?” 

“It can be with the right person! And a pair of very useful AI goggles. Or a guy with very convenient strength.” She picked up an eight dollar lampshade. “This one?”

He wrinkled his nose. “Does it come in black? And I thought you were very against using JSA stuff for non-JSA things.”

“Exceptions can be made–Are you sure you want black? That’s a depressing color.” 

“I’m sure.” 

She sighed, resigning to the unforgivable fact Rick was a monochromatic minimalist by default. She noted it down to collect in the maketplace. “So, is this a date?”  

The long cart came to a stop. Rick rested his elbow against the metal grate handle. “Believe it or not I do have standards. I’m not having a first date be a trip to Ikea because my house is so ugly it rendered you to tears.” 

She laughed again in disbelief, having so much fun. “I did not cry!” 

“You hugged me!” 

“Because you smelled really good, and I was in your room, which also smelled really good, and I was happy,” she explained, gesturing wildly. 

“You’re going to bump into that dresser,” Rick warned her, avoiding a backwards collision with the KOPPANG by tugging her close just in the nick of time. 

Greeted by sandalwood yet again, she whispered, “So a first date in your books would not include Ikea at all?”

“Not a first date. Not any date.”

“Noted.” She peered at him quickly, then glanced away to watch other families and couples shop, clasping her wrists behind her back as they walked along the long natural way. Rick strayed away to pick up a few things.

It was when she got lost going through the Turkish rug samples hanging from the ceiling that an arm wrapped around her and she got a kiss on her cheek felt all the way down to her toes. 

[laugtherhyena]

I'm still not sure if i'll write Mayura and Hina back into the storyline in Csm part 2, but just know that post part 1 Mayura becomes the second biggest Chainsaw man hater

[ladyofthenoodle]

Okay you shouldn't have to but i would love to hear how Socqueline is to Alya what Zoé is to Chloé and Adrien 🫣 that intrigues me

you are so right but here it is. here is the earth. damn that is a sweet earth you might say. ROUND. but

the ml writers don’t think so. they are le tired. fire ze missiles! they are zoe and socqueline and it is season 5. the missiles are laser targeted to the gaps in the narrative that adrien, chloe, and alya could have filled. maybe all blondes with shitty parents are interchangeable. maybe marinette can just switch one savior for another. maybe the fans won’t notice that the characters they’ve been invested in since season one have their screen time and purpose split with a character who was just introduced. and if they do notice, those fans are just salty and not real fans so we can dismiss them. who cares that they’ve spent countless words and energy defending their faves for the first 3 seasons if they’re not willing to automatically love these new characters that we tell them to love without question.

admittedly. i am an alya stan and not a chloe stan. so i have my own biases! but zoe and socqueline and both late additions that we are told we are supposed to like, even as they take screen time and meaning away from the characters we’ve spent years invested in. they aren’t bad characters but they haven’t earned the loyalty the show wants us to give them. and they aren’t worth pushing the characters we are already invested in - for better or worse - to the back burner.

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

My general rule here is that I don't talk about books I don't like or didn't vibe with because I don't think it's productive or the sorta space I want to curate (unless it's something truly dreadful or offensive or something) and oh some days I really wish I didn't have that rule 😅

[triglycercule]

i love doodling swapinverse like hello drawing characters aside from the normal mtt is lowkey therapeutic 🧡🧡🧡 anyways i FINALLY FINALLY finished crash's lore!!!! and vice.SER is connected to him,,,, theyre interconnected!!! i forgot how much i liked crash's design (not the design but all the little gimmicks in the design. figuring out all the hanging ribbon bits is annoying but hey it looks good)

[dorothygale]

your friend: are you okay? you:

SJDHAGDJSJDHSHD basically 😭😭😭

[dangoulains-devotion]

yuffie has many interesting elements to her but people refuse to move past "i find energetic kids annoying" and it makes me sad