#god damn submarine

[toytulini]

i keep being subjected to muscle cars. awful

[sadclowncentral]

sailed to denmark today to get ice cream and this huge submarine just appeared in front of us in the middle of the sea. unprecedented situation. we played the Das Boot soundtrack from our speaker as we passed by i hope she (the submarine) liked it

[theactualsunshinechild]

Hoyoverse couldn't let Wriothesley and Childe interact in game because they knew that Wriothesley could damn near fix him, and they can't have that.

[hauntingblue]

chopper has become catholic

[furiouslysleepinggreen]

I love indie horror games, no not the soulless mascot ones, those ones where it’s like, hey dude you gotta hunt a bunch of squirrels in order to make your dead skinless wife beautiful again by covering her headless body with them

[itisthejohn]

robotpost time

It’s Echoes!

Echoes is a secret project of the Robot Maker, and a submarine that will serve as his mobile and untraceable home and hideout! He suspected that his “job” could lead him into unwanted dangers, so this sub will serve as his escape when the time comes.

Design and concept wise it is based on the Nautilus, the vessel of Captain Nemo from the writings of Jules Verne. Above are some pieces of concept art.

Here is a flat layout test map, mostly made to pin down some ideas. Here’s the interesting thing about Echoes though, there is a central computer intelligence responsible for controlling it and all, yes. But you can’t really classify it as a robot, right? Well, meet Echoes’ two other bodies:

The first “Captain” body is attached to the sub and considered part of it, it physically cannot leave the bridge. As you can figure, it’s responsible for all the captain-y duties and navigation.

The second “Butler” body is completely free to walk anywhere around and even outside the submarine. It’s purpose should be obvious.

Finally, concept artwork of the two humanoid bodies.

[catiuskaa]

I.O.U. [pinky promise]

SUMMARY: minho’s fear of heights is not alone, because airplanes are also in the equation. but rest assured, lovely strangers like you are there to help him.

TAGGING! @evermourning, i finally finished minho’s vers <3 hope you like it!

TW: slight panic attack, mentions of anxiety, mentions of aerophobia (fear of flying), swearing, [still fluff af].

WC: 3.1k

[★☆✈️☆★]

Everyone that knew a bit of StrayKids and their members knew for a fact that their second oldest hyung had a problem with heights. But, added to the issue, planes where also not really a comfortable idea for the cat owner, as mandatory as they were for his career path.

“We’re on the airport, can we go back now?” He’d joke everytime they had to travel, sometimes earning small giggles from Jisung, Hyunjin or Felix, or teasing groans from Seungmin.

They had been informed that this airplane’s rows had space for two people per row. Normally the situation would be handled by sitting one of the members next to him, and he was fine with that.

“Oh, the seat 16A can’t be used due to its condition in case of evacuation. Excuse us for the late notice, we’ll find you other seat right away.”

Fuck.

Shit.

Fuck.

He had simply nodded, looking at his only hyung with anxiousness on his eyes. Yongbok hugged his arm while Han held his hand tight.

“It’ll be ok, Minho hyung.” Jeongin tried to comfort him. He smiled weakly, wishing for the youngest to be right, but deep down, he knew it was bullshit. He felt dizzy, and he hadn’t even got on the damn plane to begin with. Chan offered to trade seats, but all truth be told, he felt like he needed to do this one on his own. He liked that the members supported him, but he didn’t want to be babied. Even if he would complain about the alleged “lack of empathy” the group had with him —always in a teasing manner— he declined the offer nicely.

He left Felix’s side once the row 16 was behind him, seating in one of the two seats in row 21, as far as he could from the window, even though he could still see the finger connected to the plane and some people coming inside it. He knew that Changbin and Seungmin weren’t far away from him. He’d be ok. Yeah. He could do this. He was Lee Know, pro idol. He had to hold back the awkward giggle that the thought gave him, and snorted lowly.

“Sorry, can I…?” You trailed off, apologetically pointing to the seat next to him. He smiled sheepishly and nodded, feeling his tongue stuck, and connected it to because of how nervous he was, letting you pass through. You sat next to him, smiled kindly and then looked down at your phone.

He stared at you for a bit, a bit jealous of how calm you looked. He was on the edge, thinking of walking out and paying for a taxi. From Australia to Korea? Nevermind. On a second thought, he would pay for a fucking submarine. Or autostop… with boats. Or swim.

At this point, he wasn’t sure if he would mind drowning too much.

“First time flying? You look kinda nervous, mate.” You joked lightly, taking one of your headphones off when you noticed his eyes on you, his fidgeting and his shaky leg.

He noticed an Australian accent rolling off your tone, and the known sound made him relax a bit.

“Oh… s-sorry… eh, no, actually. It’s just… It’s for work, but I don’t really… enjoy…flying.” He stumbled on his words, his hands traveling below his thighs. He felt them cold. And sweaty.

God, this was going to be the death of him.

“Damn. That’s tough. Sorry for you, bud.” You sighed, sharing the shittyness of his situation.

“It’s fine, I guess. You? Work related?” He never was in the mood for initiating small talk, but he desperately needed to cling onto something so he would just stop thinking about the fucking plane.

“Nah. Visited the family, going back home now.” You smiled at him, trying to comfort him a bit. “Hope they pay you well if they make you fly.” You laughed.

He giggled slighlty, and nodded. “Not to brag, but that they do. At least I have that.” You laughed at his honesty.

You presented yourself in hopes of making him feel less awkward. With a slight hesitation, you ended up adding. “Just, don’t be afraid of pulling my headphones off or anything if you need. It’s ok to be scared, mate,” you mentioned with a calm smile. “You know, my sister is terrified of heights. I know its not the same… but stilll. ‘M used to it.”

Minho looked at you as if you had fallen straight from Heaven, all for the right reasons. “…pretty name. Uh. Yeah.” He mumbled messily, to which you laughed. He smiled. “Lee Minho. Don’t tempt me too much, ‘cause I might destroy the seat in a panic attack.”

You giggled, and that lowered the burden on his shoulders a bit.

The conversation died, turning in a comfortable silence, but Minho regained conciense of his surroundings once the plane started working, the vibration of the motors all through the plane. He started shaking his leg anxiously, picking the skin between his fingers. Unbeknownst to him, his breathing pace quickened by minutes. He could hear his heartbeat right on his ears.

Fuck, he couldn’t do this.

He couldn’t-

“Hey, Minho, you there?”

Your soft tone of voice brought him back for a second. You noticed how he eyed to the window behind you, so you closed it. You took out of your pocket your headphones, and bended down to your backpack just to take other headphones and an adapter, plugged it to your phone and gestured to him.

“Care to miss the evacuating instructions? If it makes you feel any better, I know them by heart. Pinky promise.”

He smiled lightly, a tad embarassed, still, a small chuckle left his lips as he took the headphones.

“You choose or I choose?”

He seemed troubled, a bit lightheaded, subconciously focusing more on the plane than anything else.

“We’ll take turns, then.” You smiled.

You played music by presing the shuffle button on your liked songs, skipping until you’d find something to listen to. Bruno Mars came along, and you let it be. It was a safe choice, right? Who doesn’t like Bruno Mars?

When Finesse started playing on his headphones, Minho failed holding back a smile. The known melody caressed his mind, the shaking now turned to tapping to the rythm. You smiled and let him be, feeling better now that your flightmate didn’t look like he wanted to die before departure, and happy that you had been able to help.

You left your phone on your leg, clinging your arm on the the armrest in between both of you. He tried to get comfortable, just to find your hand in the same place as his. He quickly apologized, pink tinting his cheeks, and you brushed it off with a sympathetic smile.

But then, the airplane started going faster, and faster, and the music wasn’t able to cover the sound that the air made when crashing to the metal walls of the aircraft. Minho felt on the edge of a heart attack, and in a desperate cry to just calm down he gripped your wrist, to which you turned your arm to hold his hand properly, caressing his palm with your thumb. It reminded him of what Yongbok used to do, and the familiar thougth calmed his dizzy, crowded mind for a few seconds.

“Hey champ, we’re on air.”

Again, your voice made him open his eyes, ones he didn’t realise he had closed, and suddenly, he recognised the new melody that was playing for both of you.

“…Wonder Girls?” He whispered, staring deeply into your eyes.

You blinked repeatedly, confused, then smiled. “Oh, yeah. You don’t like it? You can change the music if you want…”

“No…! It’s… it’s ok.”

Minho found himself forgetting about flying, focused on the music, without being able to notice his small smile and pink colored cheeks nor how he was humming to the melody.

Half of the flight had passed, which meant 5 hours had passed and other 5 were left. Minho had fallen asleep, one of the headphones hanging low on his neck, the other one threatening to fall down.

Turbulence shook the aircraft slightly, enough for the sleeping beauty to move, head falling to your shoulder. You tensed up, blushed, then relaxed and leaned into him, effort settled on trying to find a position that wouldn’t mean infinite neck pain the moment he would wake up.

“Don’t worry too much. He owes you a big one, but he’s a heavy sleeper. Plane could fall down and he wouldn’t notice.” Another strong-looking young man with black, slightly-curled hair joked. He was waiting in line for the bathroom. He was strangely wearing a black rain hat, inside of the plane. You thought of it as extravagant, but brushed it off.

“Oh, you know him?” You questioned with a small smile.

He giggled, and you knew he was smiling underneath his black mask because of the creases close to his eyes. “You could say that, yeah,” he teased. “We work together.”

“That makes me feel better. He seemed quite nervous before.”

“I hope he isn’t giving you any trouble…” he mentioned with an awkward tone.

“Not at all, mate! Don’t sweat, he’s really kind. Wish my coworkers were this nice.”

He blinked, eyes big, surprise pampered all over the features you could see. “Kind?”

“Yeah…?” You answered with doubt in your tone.

“No… it’s just that, mind you, but no one really describes Minho hyung as kind. Not by a first impression, really... no, but he is, yeah. ‘M glad you noticed, otherwise the trip could be very long.”

You giggled lowly, still slightly confused but happy that at least Minho wasn’t traveling completely on his own.

“Oh, sorry. Seo Changbin.” He tilted his hat on your direction, and you snorted while presenting yourself.

“G’day, mate.” You winked.

“See ya, Aussie.” He teased.

You’d kept on reading in your phone, Minho snuggling into you from time to time which made your cheeks pink as you laughed as lowly as you could, because sleeping when afraid of flying was really one of the best medicines, but suddenly noticed the belt sign turning on. Windows still fully blue, you sighed at the thought of turbulence coming. So you wouldn’t need to move Minho, you clung your feet to your backpack and stuffed everything inside of it, leaving only your small blanket and phone outside, alongside with the pair of headphones. You’d taken Minho’s a while ago, as they had fallen onto his lap.

The armrest was pushed back so Minho could lay on your shoulder better, and you doubted if you should lower it down. You definetely didn’t want to wake him up, that’s for sure. The plane started shaking, enough for anyone to notice, but you focused on putting Minho’s belt on, finally decided on lowering the armrest, setting his arm first and then you made yours link to his as smoothly as you could, holding hands.

You noticed that as the airplane trembled, Minho was waking up.

“Minho, you up?” You whispered, your warm breath on his neck giving him chills.

He tensed up, squeezing your hand as soon as he noticed his surroundings shaking. He suddenly felt small, anxious and in total danger.

“Minho, can you hear me? If you feel like you can’t answer, nod.”

He nodded.

“I want you to concentrate on my voice, can you do that?”

His grip on your hand got tighter as the aircraft kept shaking, but he nodded.

“Do you know how airplanes fight off turbulences?”

“N-no…” he mumbled.

“Basically, the usual protocol is to avoid them.” You started speaking softly into his ear, barely a murmur, tracing shapes with your fingers on the back of his hands and the part of his forearms that could be seen because of the sleeves of his shirt, rolled up just below his elbows.

“There are two ways of dealing with them.” You looked at him, noticing how his eyes were fixiated on the movements your hand made, making you move your gaze to the bracelet he was wearing. “One, they are prepared for it and they avoid it.”

“What if they aren’t prepared?” He mumbled, fear showing through his weak tone. You smiled, because he was trying to pay attention to you and at least a bit less to the airplane.

“Then the pilot goes above or below it, that’s why you feel like the plane is going up or down really fast. But it’s a controlled move.” You noted. “You’re not in danger, Minho.”

He suddenly nuzzled into your neck, trying to hold back tears. He felt safer, but still, his heartbeat kept running like crazy, beating so loud that he could hear it in his ears. Breathing turned like a complicated task as he struggled to keep calm.

“Follow my breathing, Minho. I need you to do that, ok?”

You started breathing in and out at a really slow pace, noticing him following you despite trembling from crying silently into the crook of your neck. A small voice in your head whispered a question, and for a moment you agreeded, because why wasn’t this a bit awkward? Why were you feeling all flustered and worried over someone you met less than 10 hours ago?

The turbulence went away, and the plane stopped shaking.

You moved the hand that was free, the other still holding Minho’s, and you softly stroked his hair. He moved his head back from you a bit, just enough for you to notice the tears on his cheeks. You quickly wiped them away and smiled.

“It’s ok, Minho. It’s over.”

He blushed and nodded, eyes glossy as he leaned back on his seat, his cold hand never leaving your warm one, trying to calm himself. Thank God you were there.

“I’m-“

“Don’t you dare apologize,” you threatened in a teasing manner. “You’re ok. It’s no big deal, really.”

He felt heat rush to his face as a smile plastered in your features. He closed his eyes, flustered, and eventually fell asleep again.

The plane landed while he was sleep. You wondered how much could a person sleep, because out of the ten hours of flight, he slept for almost 6 of them, when you could only manage to rest for 3.

“Hey, sleeping beauty, you made it.” He looked at you, as if something was different, as you walked through his legs to go get your suitcase from the compartment above.

“I didn’t wake up for landing?” He asked softly, voice a bit raspy.

“Nope. Slept through it like a lucky motherfucker,” you laughed.

He started tiding up his stuff in his backpack and thanked when you gave him his own luggage.

“It was a pleasure to meet ya. I’ll see ya again. G’day!”

Minho froze as you walked away. He felt a little sting on his chest, one he didn’t quite understand as he shook his head sideways as joined the rest of the group outside.

But then, a femenine voice called.

“Chris!”

He recognized that voice. That voice that had lulled him to sleep, to a state of calmness that he had never achieved before in an airplane.

“Mate!”

You and Chris shook hands vigorously, patting each other’s backs.

After all, how could you forget your co-star in that tv add from years ago? Your mom still had contact with his mom —as weird as it can sound— and still made funny remarks about it; a long-lasting joke in the family by now.

“I knew your name sounded familiar!” You smiled to Changbin, starting some sort of small talk as the fellow Aussie presented each member.

Yeah. Minho scoffed.

Luck? Most likely?

Unbelievable.

Of course you knew Chan. Everyone knew Chan, for fuck’s sake. He directed himself to Han and Jeongin, not thinking about the fuzzy feeling on his hands when he eyed to yours, as if wanting to hold them again.

What the fuck? What was going on with him?

Their security came by pretty fast, allowing you to tag along with them as it was too early in the morning for anyone to really care. The members walked in front of you, who was ‘caching up’ with Chan.

“So? What do you think?” Chan asked in the strongest accent he could, as a way of making it harder for the rest to understand.

“He’s brave. And kind. I’m surprised he didn’t kick me for being too nosy or touchy.” He gave you a look as he wiggled his eyebrows, and you pushed him teasingly as he giggled. “Shut up, you cunt. You’re lucky I was on the plane.”

“Thanks, mate. I owe you one.” He mentioned sincerely. “And Minho does, too.” He teased, winking at you.

Because it wasn’t mere coincidence the fact that you were so nice to Minho, helping him out. You’d recognised the name, and his face looked thoroughly familiar. As soon as the idol fell asleep you texted your friend, hoping he was using the airplane’s wifi. He replied asking for a favour, for you to take care of the pretty man till landing, because Chris was quite worried about him.

You walked with them until they reached the cars prepared for the group. And when he was just about to run the whole hallway to ask you to wait, begging for someone, anyone, to do something about how the fuck was anything of this even possible or real, you turned and hugged Chan, waving goodbye to the members from outside the car.

Minho and you locked gazes, and you quickly pointed to your left wrist with your cheeks turning pink, leaving the parking and walking towards your own vehicle.

He didn’t understand, but remained looking to your figure from the distance and how it became smaller and smaller while they were exiting the airport.

“What’s that, hyung?”

He turned around to face Jeongin, who was chewing some strawberry gum that the members were passing around for regulating the pressure after the flight, and looked to where he was pointing: his left wrist.

Tied to his black bracelet, the one you’d been fidgeting with, there was a small, light blue ribbon. Something clicked on his head as he now knew what was different: your hair was resting on your shoulders when he woke up. He untied it with utter care on his movements, causing a slight surprise on Jeongin, and Hyunjin —as we all know, curiosity killed the dumpling.

Since when did their hyung took so much care in something so small?

“Well? What is it?” Hyunjin asked.

Minho held back a smile as he read what was scribbled on the small fabric.

‘Think my name’s pretty? I think you’ll like this better.’

Followed by… a phone number.

He smiled, flustered. He didn’t like it.

He loved it.

~kats, who wanted to post because IDK, HAPPY NEW YEAR!!1!1!!1!1!!11

[tgmsunmontue]

It's not who you know 3/4

YEAR 3 - Non-angsty Nepo!Baby Bradley and his years at the USNA and his head-in-the-sand approach to the nepotism and the fact that he ends up being known as the guy with the two hot dads instead...

YEAR THREE - 2003 - PART 3

                Bradley’s time in San Diego is now numbered in days rather than weeks and Tom helps him pack for his first extended stay on a cruiser. Tom wonders if his name was even put into a hat for a place on a submarine; unlike his relationship with Man and him, it’s no secret that Bradley wants to fly. If a carrier had been an option he’s pretty sure Bradley would have gotten that. He’s seen Bradley’s report though, knows he’s excelling in all areas, clearly determined to succeed and he’s so proud. Of course, Bradley still needs to take part in the standard summer activities, despite having grown up and having them happening around him constantly, getting dragged across the country to attend various things in his shadow.

                “You know I’ll be visiting the USS Princeton while you’re onboard.”

                “Yeah yeah, I promise not to have to be thrown overboard for insubordination.”

                “No, that wasn’t… I was more thinking that you might find yourself hearing things about me which are going to make you want to pop someone in the nose.”

                “Like what?”

                “Oh god, all sorts of shit. People think I don’t know what they say behind my back but trust me, I know.”

                “I haven’t heard anything!”

                “You’ve not done any active service yet. Fresh greenie not even a proper upperclassman yet. You’ll hear stuff.”

                The expression on Bradley’s face is equally angry and annoyed and Tom holds back a groan.

                “Bradley, I’m serious. You’re really going to have to hold back if you get angry. Don’t worry about my honor okay. You’ve spent the last couple of years pretending you don’t know me and Mav at all, don’t blow your cover over something stupid that doesn’t matter. You understand?”

                “Yeah. Thanks Ice. And thanks for going along with this whole thing, I know it probably feels a bit stupid some days, but it’s really nice knowing that the friends I’ve made are my friends because of me you know, not because of what connections I might have.”

                “Yeah kid, I get it. Fair warning they might feel pretty pissed when they do find out though.”

                “Nah, I’ve picked good friends. I reckon they’ll understand.”

                “Okay. Now did you need anything else? I know Mav has been riding you hard about your flight hours…”

                Mav of course has made the most of whatever spare time they’ve had and ensured Bradley built up his flight hours again so his license doesn’t lapse. Tom doesn’t think there are going to be very many other upperclassman with as much flight experience as Bradley. Talk about being overqualified. However he also knows it makes for a damn strong application so he’s supported Mav in his undertaking.

                They say goodbye to Bradley on the porch, tell him they’ll see him onboard when he’s mixing with the enlisted personnel and Tom wishes they could watch him board, feels like it’s another milestone he’s going to miss. Reminds himself firmly that he’ll see him again onboard the same damn ship and he’ll have plenty of opportunities in the future to wave Bradley off on deployment.

…             …             …

                He doesn’t punch anyone, didn’t even need the warning, wonders what Ice thinks people say about him. He’d heard them talk, but nothing more than him being brass and being very cool-headed in times of crisis. It’s all been pretty benign stuff really, and no-one had stopped talking when he entered a room or anything.

                For the first time ever he puts up a photo of Ice and Mav beside his bed. It’s weird, but he can see why people don’t see Admiral Kazansky. He’s got a few copies of the photo, Slider having printed him off a bunch in thanks for forwarding him the electronic file and that is probably going to come back and bite him in the ass at some stage. Now he’s back in Bancroft, preparing to help with Plebe Summer, this time older and not being expected to have to deal with people yelling in his face while not reacting. It’s going to be a cake-walk in comparison to two years ago and he’s looking forward to it.

                “You’re not meant to be in here,” Bradley says, seeing Natasha at the end of his dorm bed.

                “I was sent to collect you, I have permission,” she says, hand waving away his concerns. “Let me look at that photo. Holy shit… I thought your first dad was hot, but your other dad? I mean… wow. I know I told you I like girls more than boys, but these are the type of boys that I prefer…” she says, tapping the photo. “Huh. Maybe it’s just men and women, because to be honest I don’t find anyone here very attractive.”

                “Gross,” Bradley states, because he’s very firmly kept the company of his own hand when he’s been on base. His summers are probably a lot wilder than Mav or Ice think they are, but he tries to make use of every night he has home once they’re

                “To you maybe… pretty sure you’d find my brother hot.”

                “If I did, I wouldn’t tell you!”

                “That’s because you’re repressed.”

                “Rather be repressed than find either of my dads hot thanks!”

                “Okay. That’s fair. And you probably won’t be too ugly once you grow into your face…”

                “Wow, you really know how to flatter a guy…”

…             …             …

                Plebe Summer starts and Bradley throws himself into being the best role model he can. He knows that in the future some of these people will be his peers, maybe even be his superior, but right now they have to get through what he still considers the hardest summer of their life. Of course hardly anyone drops out, the selection criteria is far too difficult and physically rigorous to make it something someone would easily just drop-out from without serious consideration first. There’s friendly competition and even friendlier encouragement, the brigades working together.

                There’s one guy that keeps catching his eye and he’s not sure if it’s deliberate on the guy’s part, somehow magically putting himself nearly always in Bradley’s line of sight. Or whether he’s only got himself to blame, eyes just drifting to watch. Either way he’s really fucking horny and the guy is hot. Not that he will do anything, but it doesn’t stop him thinking about it.

                “Now there is a guy who doesn’t need to grow into his looks…”

                He silently agrees.

                God what he wouldn’t do to get his hands on him.

                Ah well. His own hands on his own body and his mind on another it is.

…             …             …

                “Do I have a sign on me that says to tell me if you’re gay? Or a lesbian? Or bisexual?”

                “Um… not literally. But there is the common knowledge that you have smoking hot dads and therefor okay with the gay.”

                Bradley groans.

                “I had another guy come out to me today. No reason. Just to tell me. Also he said he thinks we’re cute together.”

                “Ew.”

                “I just nodded and smiled.”

…             …             …

                Michael Williams sighs. It’s the second… complaint? Notification? Information? Tips? Regardless, they’re both about Bradley Bradshaw’s relationship with Natasha Trace. They’ve been spied coming out of rooms together, otherwise small, dark, empty rooms like the store rooms. Fraternization. Actions unbecoming. Fuck. The kid wants to be treated like all the other kids, he’d be getting pulled into Mack’s office for a dressing down, short and sharp. Both of them would be.

                Part of him wants to, still a little ticked off at the whole stunt Bradshaw is pulling. He’s not familiar with him outside of watching him last year, seeing a whole raft of his superior officers watch as Admiral Kazansky toured the campus dressed as a civilian. But also Bradshaw is good. He does everything well, more than well. And he’s cheerful and helpful and encourages the underclassmen and there had been no fault in any of his behavior.

                Until now.

                He walks down the corridor to Admiral Kerner’s office, nervous as he knocks on the open door.

                “Sir. Do you have a moment?”

                “Of course, come in.”

                He does, closes the door behind him and notes the eyebrow raise and the lean back in the chair. He has his full attention.

                “Sir. I need you to do a favor and make a call to your friend Kazansky.”

                “Why, what’s happened?”

                “I’ve got two instances of fraternization for Bradley Bradshaw and Natasha Trace.”

                “And you want to do what? Tattle on him to his uncle?”

                “No, I was actually after guidance on how I should proceed. I would pull them both into my office and give them a stern talking to, and a warning. Is that appropriate?”

                “Bradshaw and Trace are the same rank Captain, it’s not exactly forbidden, just heavily frowned upon. The fact you have had two complaints tells me that this is more likely a case of sour grapes on whoever is complaining, so I’d be having a talk with them as well. But let me see if I can get Ice on the blower…”

                Michael will never understand naval aviators and their call signs, but he stands and waits as Admiral Kerner dials, then asks to be put through. Obviously whoever it is on the other end knows not to mess with one Admiral ringing another. He listens to the one-sided conversation and watches Admiral Kerner’s face with interest.

                “Hey Ice, it’s Sli. Yes, well, I didn’t think I’d be speaking to you today either. Look. Yeah. This is about Bradley. Did you talk to him about behavior?” Face curious, openly contemplative.

                “Okay, so you covered that with him. Then why are we looking at two instances of fraternization?” Eyes narrowed and considering.

                “No, it’s with a fellow midshipman. Also an upperclassman.” Serious.

                “Yes, I’m aware it’s not actual fraternization.” An eyeroll.

                “Yes, it is.” Face back to curious, speculative.

                “Oh. Huh.” Surprise.

                “I did think it was maybe a case of sour grapes, jealousy at his general capabilities and the fact that he’s generally well liked amongst his peers. Except by a couple apparently.”

                “Yes well, he’ll be fine. We’ll pull them in and give them a heads up. Both of them. Midshipman Trace is equally talented and capable.”

                “Yeah, was nice talking to you too. Will have to have a proper catchup when it’s not about work.”

…             …             …

                Jake isn’t sure what he has to do to get the guys sole undivided attention, but he’s not going to give up trying. He’s so good at everything, competent in this easy way that turns him on in ways he’s never thought were possible, and he’s a teenager and being horny is pretty much a permanent state for him. Except when he’s too tired to even think, which unfortunately for his first year at USNA is a whole lot of the time. Either it gets easier or people just learn how to cope with everything better because Midshipman Bradshaw makes it look easy.

…             …             …

                “Oh god, it was horrible. I can’t do it again. How do they do it?”

                “What are you talking about?”

                “Submarines! Going under the water…”

                “Uh…” Tom exchanges a look with Pete and opens his mouth. Closes it again. Bradley is back home for part of summer, having just experienced his first dive and he’s at a bit of a loss.

                “Bradley. Buddy. Uh. You realize you’re in the Navy right? And that has, uh, a lot to do with the water?” Mav says.

                “But I’m going to fly planes!”

                “Maybe he should have joined the airforce,” Tom muses.

                “You wash your mouth out right now!”

…             …             …

                “Seriously, if I was going to fuck around I’d do it somewhere far less obvious than the fucking storeroom!”

                Tom winces, because clearly Pete has heard the rumors about Bradley and Natasha Trace. God he loves the rumor mill of the US Navy, bunch of gossipers the lot of them. He hadn’t bothered mentioning anything, because he knew nothing was happening. Mav is of course mentioning it. In the worst possible way. Clearly having forgotten that Bradley came out as gay several years ago and that Natasha Trace is a woman. He’s going to need a coffee.

                “Bradley! What do you mean Bradley? Don’t walk away from me young man!”

                “You said we leave our ranks at the door with our shoes, so this conversation is over! And I said if!”

                “I know what if means in this house, and it definitely means something definitely happened!”

…             …             …

                “Do I even want to know?” Tom asks, taking a quiet sip of coffee.

                “Mav’s scared I might be having sex.”

                Tom raises an eyebrow, he’s fully aware Bradley’s been sneaking out for the last couple of years. He guesses Bradley’s now feeling mature enough to talk about it. Good.

                “Are you being safe?”

                “Yes.”

                “Good enough for me. Don’t get caught.”

                Bradley scoffs.

                “I learnt from the best remember!”

                “He got caught plenty of times,” Tom says dryly.

                “I meant you Ice.”

                “Oh.”

                It’s been a long time since he’s blushed.

PART FOUR

[alexthefly]

Did I miss the relevant prompt earlier in the week? Maybe. Shhhh...

In honour of FishTank Week, and particularly the prompt 💛"We're a team, always"💚 please enjoy this reblog.

*******

Green Wool and Sunshine

What is that?!”

“What is what?” asked Virgil through a mouthful of cinnamon roll.

“That! That…thing you’re wearing!”

Gordon sat up slowly from the sofa, his face fixed in equal parts grin and grimace as he pointed with his good hand.

Virgil looked down at himself and surreptitiously brushed a few crumbs off his sweater. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked.

“Dude, it’s hideous,” said Gordon, eyeing the offending garment critically.

Virgil looked again. True, it wasn't in the best shape. Pale green wool, striped with white and yellow, and all of it faded and bobbled to within an inch of its life. One shoulder had a loose seam so that it looked almost as if the wool were melting. And at the centre of it all, the distinctive shape of Thunderbird Two rendered clumsily in darker green.

"Where did you get it?”

“Grandma made it for me one Christmas. You remember that vintage knitting machine Dad got her that one year?”

God, it had made a racket, like someone flicking a giant comb over and over again. Thank goodness she’d finally lost interest in that particular hobby, although in hindsight Virgil wondered if her subsequent rediscovery of her old cooking books might have been too high a price to pay.

“Anyway, I just found it the other day in the back of the closet.”

Gordon’s mouth twisted to one side. “...Any chance you could lose it back there again?”

A deep grumble. Okay, so she might not be the best at the domestic arts, but she was still their grandma and he loved that she tried. Virgil had actually thought the sweater was pretty good, in a homespun, one-sleeve-slightly-longer-than-the-other sort of way; his girl’s big, friendly turtle-face was unmistakable, and Grandma had even included a little dark-haired figure in blue and green waving out of one of her windows.

“Lay off. It’s comfortable. Anyway, I didn’t see you criticising when she made you that yellow submarine one you wore down to scraps.”

Gordon rolled his eyes. “First of all, I was a lot younger then and not so refined.”

Virgil snorted.

“Secondly, yellow is infinitely better than green. And thirdly, I can carry that sort of thing off. You…” - he wafted his hand up and down at his brother in the manner of a bitchy ballroom dancing judge - “...unfortunately, cannot.”

Virgil grunted and took another bite of his roll.

“Really? Mr ‘Hawaiian Shirts and Sandals Go With Everything’ is criticising my fashion choices?”

“They totally do go with everything! They’re a completely universal outfit; the quintessential capsule wardrobe.”

He puffed out his chest to show off today’s offering, complete with large ketchup stain down the front.

“Anyway, why are you even wearing a sweater when it’s 80 degrees outside? I know you tend towards layers, tropical climate be damned, but this is a bit much even for you.”

“I was down in the hangars,” Virgil shrugged. “It was cold.”

“You doing some maintenance?” His little brother’s face lit up.

“Two’s left air intake’s doing that rattling thing again; I thought I’d give her an overhaul,” he said, brain shifting seamlessly into engineer mode, “And her injectors need a spruce up. Thought perhaps I’d have a play with that new neo-PEM cell Brains has been going on about.”

“D’you want some help?”

The enthusiasm in his voice was unmistakable, and cut deep.

Virgil bit his lip. “Aww, I don’t think so, Fish. You need to rest.”

“I could rest down there? I promise, I’ll just sit and watch you."

The desperation in his brother’s puppy dog eyes felt like knives in Virgil’s chest.These last few weeks since the Marindata Ventfields had been hard on them all. Even now, with Gordy finally home from the hospital, Virgil still woke almost nightly with the sound of that emergency signal echoing in his ears, the silence of his brother’s comms stretching out in his mind until…

No, don’t think about that. He’s home. He’s safe.

But obviously Gordon had been hit the hardest. His ‘bird was a total loss, his body not much better, and he still had months of rehab ahead, bringing with it all the oh-so-unwelcome memories he’d worked so hard to bury. Regular visits from Penny had helped, and their sunshine boy was trying hard, but it was like the clouds had gathered, dimming that indefinable brightness that made him…him.

Virgil wished beyond wish that he could indulge his little brother if it would make him happy. But…

“I’m sorry Squid, Grandma’s orders. There’s just too many hazards down there. Fumes and stairs and things to trip over… I wouldn’t be able to watch out for you properly.”

Gordon sagged, and Virgil felt his heart clench painfully.

“But hey, how about I leave the maintenance and come sit up here with you instead? We could watch an episode of Buddy and Ellie?”

Anything to bring back the sun.

A shake of the head, eyes fixed downwards. “Nah, seen ‘em all.” Gordon looked up and smiled again; this time it didn’t reach his eyes. “Anyway, you don’t want to be stuck up here. Not when there’s oil and grime to play about in. Better watch you don’t get that sweater dirty though, or Grandma might knit you another one.”

Virgil opened his mouth to speak, but his little brother cut him off.

“Stop worrying Virg. S’no biggie. I’m fine, see?” He shrugged. “I’ll just see you when you’re done.”

He lay back down on the sofa carefully, looking so much smaller than he had a moment ago.

“Actually, I’m getting a little tired now. You just go do what you gotta do - I’m gonna take a nap right here.”

And with that he closed his eyes; conversation over.

Virgil lingered for a moment, scouring his brain for something to say but coming up blank. Inside his heart burned with guilt and impotence: his little brother was hurting, and he couldn’t do anything to fix it. All he’d done was make things worse.

Perhaps he should go.

“Okay then. Take it easy, alright?”

“Yup."

“There’s cinnamon rolls in the kitchen if you get hungry.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Thus dismissed, he turned and made his way towards the elevator, mind no longer on his ‘bird but instead on her grounded, miserable co-pilot.

Oh Gordy. It will get better; I promise.

………..

As the sound of the elevator faded away Gordon opened one eye a crack to check the coast was clear. Then he slowly, painfully hauled himself up, intent on getting to the residential levels. No doubt his big marshmallow of a brother would be on the comms right now, asking someone - probably Scott - to come down and check on him, and there was no way he was hanging around for that.

Even if his body hated him for moving.

The journey from the sofa to his room used to take less than two minutes. Today it took him seven minutes twenty. What was worse was that objectively he should be pleased. Sub-eight minutes was actually an improvement on a week ago.

Goddammit.

Finally, he was able to close the bedroom door behind him and collapse onto his bed, aching and miserable.

This sucked.

He was lucky to be alive; he knew that. A few weeks ago he’d been lying at the bottom of the ocean with half a volcano on top of him. Now, because of his brothers, Penny and Parker, he was back in the bosom of his family, healing, getting stronger, gradually shaving the seconds off his bedroom run.

He should be grateful. He’d been through far worse, for God’s sake.

So why?

Why wasn’t he able to shake this off?

Why was it that whenever he tried to see the positive, all he could see was just how freakin’ useless he was?

He didn’t dare say that out loud, of course. His family would absolutely kick his ass if they heard him say something like that. Penny too. (Boy, would she!) He could hear them now, telling him to give himself a chance, these things take time, blah blah blah… Hell, he even tried saying that stuff to himself sometimes, like he would if it were one of his brothers in this position instead of him.

If only any of it actually worked.

Because no matter how much he tried to reason his way out of this funk he was in, it didn’t help, because this feeling wasn’t logical. It couldn’t be reasoned with.

It whispered to him in the dark.

You’ve let them all down.

Look at the slack they’re having to pick up.

Look how much they’re worrying.

Worse.

They don’t need you back.

They’re fine without you.

Every time his brothers went off on a mission without him, it hurt. Whenever someone else took his place co-piloting for Virgil - even Penny, who was only doing it for his sake - he felt cold inside. And when Scott had been the one to take his new Thunderbird Four out for her maiden voyage? The mission to recover the Zero X capsule, no less; the thing that had kicked off Operation Bring Dad Home? Well, he’d just wanted to curl up right there on that sofa and never move again.

The unfairness.

The guilt.

The fear.

He would never wish what had happened on any of his family in a million years. But at the same time, why was it always him that got hurt?

Perhaps he really was just useless.

Sad, exhausted, hurting in more ways than he knew how to handle, he turned his face to the pillow and let the tears come.

…………

The thing about uber-strength pain meds is that they can make a guy fall asleep in the middle of the afternoon and not wake up until the early hours.

He registered the dim not-quite dark as the world slowly came back to him.

Someone had drawn the covers over him at some point during the night, tucking them around him like he was a child, and didn’t that just sum up everything? Take a nap, take your meds, and maybe if you’re a good boy you’ll get a lollipop(!)

He shifted slightly and his hip complained. Gingerly he rolled over, tackling the manoeuvre in sections, trying to get comfortable. He was just settling again when something caught his eye on the chair by his bed.

A large package wrapped neatly in yellow paper.

Twisting carefully he reached out with his good arm and pulled the chair towards him. In the soft glow of pre-dawn, he recognised the paper as the same kind he’d had for his last birthday: bright yellow with blue seahorses and glittery bubbles. Scott had complained about the glitter getting all over his shirt, and they’d all spent the next hour randomly shaking the paper over each other’s heads until they’d sparkled like they were in a Las Vegas show.

He smiled at the memory and gradually pulled himself up until he was sitting, blanket wrapped around him in the cool, almost-morning air.

Holding the package on his lap, he delicately pulled it open at the seams, revealing unmistakable green wool underneath.

What the-?

In with the sweater there was a card written in Virgil’s big, swooping hand:

Seeing as you’re the only one who could pull it off anyway, you should have this, at least until you can make it back aboard the real thing.

She isn’t the same without you. V.

He read the card two more times, breath hitching on the last sentence each time, then he gently unfurled the sweater out in front of him to take a closer look at the design, now that it was technically his.

It took a few moments for him to notice it.

Something was different.

He squinted.

There, in the window of Thunderbird Two’s cockpit, carefully embroidered next to the tiny waving figure of Virgil, a second, blond-haired figure waved out at him in shades of blue and yellow wool.

How...?

...Virgil.

For a moment, he swore he could see the little co-pilot grinning. Or was that just his suddenly-blurred vision playing tricks?

He wiped his eyes and, discarding his blanket, pulled the sweater over his head. He couldn’t get his bad arm through the sleeve, so instead opted to keep it against his chest, nestled between the soft wool and his own thrumming heart.

Despite the way it looked, Virg had been right: the sweater was comfortable. So comfortable. Softened by repeated washing, with a clean smell of detergent and just a hint of Virgil’s cologne - sandalwood and bergamot, mellow and comforting - wearing it was like wearing a hug; warm and reassuring and just so snuggly.

Full of love.

Wrapping his good arm around himself and breathing in the calming, cozy scent, he picked his way carefully over to the window and opened the blinds. Dawn was just beginning to break over the horizon, painting the sky a hundred different shades of pink and purple and orange. As he watched, the sun slowly poked its head out over the gentle waves of his beloved ocean, bathing him in the warmth of its early morning glow.

It was going to be a beautiful day.

[imintoomanyfandomscuzihaveadhd]

Quaritch being a southern Dad (Modern!AU)

@hyperfixatedfandomer @naavispider

A/N: idk if quaritch is actually supposed to be from Kansas like he says in the movie but people headcanon him being from all over the south. Accents and sayings are different all over the south, I’m from east central Alabama so these are just based things I say or other people say

Southern dictionary

Buggy: Shopping Cart

Toboggan: kit cap or benie

‘r: or

sghetti: spaghetti

Coke:soda

that boy ain’t missed at meal: That boy fat as hell

Yur: your

Scow: let’s go

Jeet: you eat

Wallerin: pouting or crying

Bud light: beer

Miles: Spider I swear to god you better behave in this goddamn Walmart or I will tear your ass up. Now go get me a buggy

Spider: ………a what?

Miles: A buggy spider go get a buggy

Spider: YOU MEAN A SHOPPING CART!

Miles: *mocking his voice* you mean a shopping cart? GO GET THE DAMN BUGGY

Miles: Spider it’s cold outside put this toboggan on

Spider: Toboggan? This is a benie.

Miles: JUST PUT THE DAMN HAT ON SON

*Spider fucking up that good ass bbq masnk made*

Miles: Damn, son slow down, you got a tapeworm ‘r sumthing?

Miles: Spider go grab me some sghetti sauce

Spider: Wtf is sghetti sauce, are you talking about SPAgehtti sauce

Miles: Boy go get my sauce

Miles: Hey spider I got you that coke you wanted

Spider: I didn’t want cocoa cola

Miles: I didn’t get you cocoa cola, now come get your coke

Spider: *Confused Nosies*

I NOW PRESENT QUARITCH SAYING SOUTHER DAD THINGS

Spider thats the worng ammo, I swear you bout as useful as a screen door on a submarine

Lyle I swear they done moved everything around in that damn Walmart, I was confused as a homeless man on house arrest

Spider, I’ll tell you what that boy ain’t missed at meal

SPIDER GET YUR ASS IN THE TRUCK LETS SCOW

Well hell spider I figured I was speaking English what language do you speak, dumbass?

Spider did jeet yet?

Yep, Spiders up there walliern in the bed cuz I took that bud light away from him

[90ekz]

RYUSEI SHIDOU BF HEADCANONS <3

cw : chubbyblackfem!reader, smut, possessiveness, foul language, blasian!ryu, he’s a lil mean but we luv.

- ngl, this mf has a really weird obsession with your tits. like, it borders on creepy. you can’t do anything without him coming behind you and sticking his hands up your bra. fuckin’ weirdo.

- smells really fresh, yet warm at the same time. like a mix of spring rain w/ a side of male ignorance. quite nice, at least to you.

- loves nothing more than waking up to you with your legs slung around his waist. he finds that shit so cute.

- absolutely gets a kick out of making you mad during sex. just got ur hair done? he’s pulling on it extra hard. just used the last bit of ur favorite gloss? he’s smearing it all over his cock while fucking your throat. he’s a dickhead fr LMFAO

- talks so fuckin’ condescending to you. always talkin bout “hmm?” and “oh yeah?”, cause he knows that his voice does it for you. when you woke up the morning after your first time w him, and his voice was all husky—whew lord.

“heh.” you threw an annoyed look over your shoulder, hoping that he’d get the memo that your wobbly legs and sore back were not funny. he held back anothet chuckle as he got up and held your waist on the way to the bathroom. his other hand snaked to your jaw as he feigned sadness. “‘m sorry mama. dont be mad at me baby.” with that same damned tone in his voice.

- possessive as hell. like it’s so bad LMFAO. he’s a firm believer that any man who comes near you should die by his hands, unfortunately. he just can’t help it, you’re his favorite lil’ thing, cut him some slack :(

“next time he comes near you, ON GOD im tying him to the bottom of the ocean and running him over wit a fuckin’ submarine, cause who the fuck??”

- the first time you came to one of his games and he noticed you waving a big sign in the air with “i <3 ryu!” in big letters, he knew that he was in love with you. his teammates had never seen him smile so big.

- his fav nicknames? sugar, baby, ma, mama, princess. he’s so bleh :((

- big girl enthusiast. if you ain’t 2sumn to do sumn get out his dms fr.

- his fav domestic thing is cooking with you, well, while you watch. one hand is cooking, the other is fondling the fat of your ass with his big ol’ hands. he’s absolutely convinced that the food comes out better when he does it.

- before y’all even got together, he was shoving it down sae’s throat how he got a girlfriend before him, and how y’all were gonna go out on dates whenever you stopped playin games. delusional ass.

“didn’t you just say-" “man, she slid up on my story! that means that she’s soooo in love with me! right?!” “totally. yep.”

[herzzgeist]

Captain's Log

A/N: A highly self-indulgent piece. Not sure how I came up with this, but . . damn, I needed this after going through some tough times. Let a girl dream alright? ;-; Hope I still could give you a little smile with this. This is kind of a recap to last year and how I learned to love that silly boy Not really prove read

Content: first person pov of Law 'diary style' - him being lovey dovey for fem!reader in his own way

January, 2023

Noticed a new wanted poster hanging around in the towns and cities we dock at. A woman. I have heard rumors of her, (Y/n), but she looks rather strange. The bounty is quite high though - another worst generation rival perhaps?

February, 2023

Her bounty‘s higher now. Even the poster has a new, more clear picture to it. Strange looking. I wonder what her fighting skills are like.

March, 2023

Finally this pink bastard is down for the count. Breaking up to Zou - will be a long journey ahead.

This crazy woman sabotaged an admiral‘s fleet?! Is she mad? How?? She has to be one of the worst generation! At least I heard that rumor from Nami-ya.

April, 2023

Nico-ya mentioned this (Y/n) is headed towards Zou as well. It worries me even more, that she's supposed to bear a mythical zoan devil fruit. People died because of her singing? Ridiculous.

May, 2023

This is not what I expected. Shortly after meeting my crew, this blasted woman appears right around the corner and instantly disappears again? Bepo brought her back, introducing her to me and explaining her supportive acts. She was down right nerve wrecked as she looked up at me.

I'm an idiot for thinking about how velvet like her hand was

Guess she heard of me. Wouldn't be a surprise, she went pale as snow as she saw me.

June, 2023

I hate her. She's nosy, upright, supportive and . . cute. Those terms shouldn't be in a pirate's resume, at least the cute part. Yes she has excellent control of her devil fruit, true she helped out my crew , but it doesn't mean I'll fully accept her as part of the crew.

I learned about her powers. The Sonar-Sonar fruit. It acts like a submarine or bat I believe, using echo location to discern anything in a large radius. In addition, singing melodies, each having a different use, she can either make people fall asleep or lure them towards her. Her epithet 'Siren' sure makes sense.

That's all I know - but there must be more . .

July, 2023

She's part of the crew now. If I'd refuse her, Bepo would cry 24/7, Shachi and Penguin might as well talk my ears full with bullshit and Ikkaku will most definitely sabotage the Tang's motors. So I didn't have any other choice.

Besides that, it's (Y/n)-ya's birthday - if I wouldn't have taken her in . . yes that leads me to everything above.

Additionally, I learned she turned my age yesterday. She's so . . feeble for that age. So insecure and too nice for this world (besides being bold towards the government?) Why even is she in the piracy scene? How did she come this far?

August, 2023

What the hell is wrong with me? I fell for the oldest trick in the book! She merely asked for my help, saying she had something in her eye, so of course I take a look and she goes ahead and pokes my nose??

Not sure what she said, but I think it was: "You should smile more." What? Who does she think she is? Talking to her Captain like that?

God, I will never get rid of that image and her deep e/c eyes staring back at me. Damn it she was close. Or theoretically I was

September, 2023

Damn it, her scent is everywhere! It's outragous, she steals my clothes, Kikoku and even my hat when I'm not looking! I think I took on her odors now too! It's annoying . .

Not sure why, but the fragrancy reminds me of wildrose and chocolate. Maybe because she eats way too much chocolate, which she stashes somwhere aboard the sub. (Note to self - find her candy stash and eliminate it ASAP)

I can't help but think of her whenever wildroses appear randomly wherever I go. And I see them everywhere as soon as we dock on islands? What dumbass is into wildroses that much? I sure am not! They're nothing but cosmetic to me, nothing of use in real medical sense.

October, 2023

I am most certainly NOT giving in to her charms. She's just being nice and gifted me a yellow hoodie, a polar teddy bear and . . god damn tickets to Sora Con. Is she insane? They cost a shit ton of Berry and she just . .

She accidently grazed my hand as she gave me the plushie. How can it be so soft? Not the teddy I mean. She's warm and silky. And again - this forsaken scent of wildrose.

Speaking of which. I noticed how pink her lips are, almost resembling the petals of . . wildroses.

She's weird.

November, 2023

Something's different. She's not as cheerful and overly smiley as usual. I believe there's a private matter going on.

Whatever, she'll get over it.

December, 2023

She didn't get over it. Her mood is really annoying lately, but she's behaving like a totally different person. She truly isn't well.

So I asked her about her well being. It's nothing to get over quickly, that's for sure. It worries me, seeing her this absentminded. She'll get in trouble if she doesn't concentrate on the battles ahead. Her powers can be truly useful, if not crucial if we stick to my plans (which I highly doubt)

To be fair, I'd rather see her happy than all slumped and grumpy.

She's got a pretty smile

I like her, I must see to her after the raid

I think she's going to be alright

Last page of captain's log / Notes barely readable, for he tried to eliminate 'evidence'

She called me 'snow leopard' the other day. I believe her naive woman thoughts got the better of her, perhaps influenced by all the ‚adorable’minks at Zou. If she calls me that one more time in front of everybody, I swear I'll send her heart to the marines.

Anyway, she asked me what I think what kind of mink she would be? She's a human, why should she be a mink out of the sudden? But I guess I'll humor her tomorrow.

She reminds me of a red panda. It's her hair. As soon as the sun rays hit her, red glows from her strands, resembling the embers of fire. Besides, she behaves like one, silly and throwing paws. Plus they're cute. Kind of like her.

I heard her sing together with Brook at the outpost. Her voice sounds nice. Yet, the way she holds the notes, it reminds me of north blue folklore. Is she actually . .?

She hugged me. It felt strange. But I can't deny it was . . heartwarming? I tucked her into my blue feather coat, in hopes to suffocate her, yet her head just plopped right out front and she looked up at me . . smiling

I'm too young to have a cardiac arrest - still whenever she does this I get premature ventricular contractions.

[aprillikesthings]

swear to god the amount of time I've spent on this fic that's just looking up release dates of fucking songs/albums like do you KNOW how many times I've had a half dozen tabs open that are just the wikipedia page for [band/person name] discography

because yes I remember that The Beatles' Revolver came out in 1966 but WHEN in 1966, when can I make Adora listen to it while doing homework

for extra-fun points this was back when a lot of music had not only different release dates but the albums had different track lists, between the USA and the UK--American kids had more spending money, on average, than British kids; so American albums tended to be shorter so they could sell the songs as singles and EP's as well. In the case of The Beatles specifically, their really early stuff was across more than one label! Their albums didn't have the same track lists on both sides of the pond until Sgt. Pepper--at that point they insisted on it, and after that the track lists were always the same.

Sgt. Pepper was still released a week later in the USA than in the UK but I wonder if that was like, literally due to the time it took to ship the damn thing across an ocean lolol

Anyway even as an obsessed teenager in the mid-90's I only bothered memorizing the British album names/tracklists, since that's what was released on CD--the singles that weren't on any albums in the UK were released on their own compilations.

I say "bothered memorizing" lol I didn't even do it on purpose it just...happened. I used to be able to just recite the UK full-length albums in order of release.

Wait can I still do it?

Please Please Me, With the Beatles, A Hard Day's Night, ...I'm missing one I think?..., Help!, Rubber Soul, Revolver, Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, Magical Mystery Tour, Yellow Submarine, The White Album, Abbey Road, Let it Be (hah those last two always trip me up bc they were released in a different order than they were recorded)

Okay let me look and see if I fucked up

OH RIGHT the one I missed was Beatles for Sale. To be fair that album has a lot of...less good songs on it. Though it does have Eight Days a Week on it, which is one of my FAVES. And I got Yellow Submarine and the White Album in the wrong order. (To be fair, Yellow Submarine was mostly "leftovers" from recording Sgt. Pepper and Magical Mystery Tour; the White Album is a totally different style)

ANYWAY this was SUPPOSED to be a post about writing my fic lol god I spent all of yesterday going "I need to write....I need to write...." but couldn't get any words down, until I watched a chunk of Monterey Pop on youtube and then voila, words fell into the gdoc. The funny thing is that I know I just recently reblogged a post that was like "if you're stuck, write or at least imagine things later in the story" and I keep refusing to let myself do that even thought it keeps working when I give up and do it. Because of course it's by writing things that happen later that I figure out how to approach scenes that happen earlier!

But also at this point, their senior year is going to be two or three chapters!, and "Catra hitch-hikes to SF" is going to be an entire chapter by itself. My actual chapter listings in the doc are unintentionally hilarious because at this point it's going to be, like, twice as many chapters as I was planning. 😩

That said I think I only need a couple more scenes before this upcoming chapter is finally done? But at this rate, by the time they graduate high school the rest of the fic will be basically done hahhhhh

[spider-xan]

Just read the press release for that Nautilus D+ show that everyone rightfully criticized months ago for ret-conning the books so that Nemo is now no longer the inventor of his own damn submarine, and my God, in addition to all of that, the real architect and engineer of the Nautilus is going to be an old white Frenchman AND Nemo apparently kidnaps a rich white British woman as a hostage, hmm, I'm sure that won't come off as a racist trope or anything, right??

[howlingday]

RWBY Party

Ruby/Yang: WHAT?!

Blake: That's insane...

Ruby: Why is that even an option?!

Blake: Friendly reminder to the audience that this is proof that Yang, Ruby, and I are normal, and Weiss is a robot.

Yang: SERIOUSLY, DUDE?!

---------------------------------------------------

Weiss: Hm... My biggest threat is probably Yang, so I'll tume this block to choose her.

Yang: Pfft! Yeah, right! Like you can time it to- OH!

Ruby: Are you serious?

Weiss: And for doubting me, I'm maxing the amount.

Yang: No shot! There's no way you're gonna-

Ruby: ARE YOU SERIOUS?!

---------------------------------------------------

Weiss: Oh joy. A button mashing level against Ruby. How fun.

Blake: Yang is on the other team, so it cancels out. It's simple math.

---------------------------------------------------

Weiss: I'm winning and Xiao Long is suffering? This is the best Mario Party ever!

---------------------------------------------------

Ruby: Jumping is broken, Weiss! Don't bother running!

Yang: Dammit!

Weiss: Shit!

Ruby: WHY AM I ALWAYS CARRYING YOU GUYS?! YOU'RE ALWAYS MAKING FUN OF ME!

Yang: Go, Ruby! Go!

Blake: I guess there's nothing you can do if you spam jump.

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Blake: No wonder you're so bitter.

Ruby: Why am I slow?!

Blake: I had to do it to him.

Ruby: I have done nothing but understand your grievances!

Blake: (Lands on a red plate)

Ruby: Oh, look at that! KARMA!

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Weiss: This is like a Ruby game, but in the body of Yang.

Ruby: Is this how Yang feels? This sucks!

Yang: Oh, you guys are JUST NOW noticing?!

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Ruby: Blake, what are you doing?! You're supposed to stop Weiss!

Blake: Gee, Ruby. Maybe if you stopped kissing Yang's submarine, I could have come up for air.

Weiss: Snrk!

Yang: What did she say?!

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Blake: Ruby will get two.

Ruby: ...OH COME ON!

Yang: You made it to the bank, Ruby! Way to go!

Ruby: Shut up, Yang!

Yang: Man, look at the Koopa Troopa! Even HE thinks you're poggers!

Ruby: YOU GET UNFUNNIER WITH EVERY SENTENCE YOU SAY! SHUT UP!

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Yang: Hey, Weiss!

Weiss: WHAT?!

Yang: How's your day going, Weiss?

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Ruby: You could get a Bowser, Weiss! That'd be so cool!

Weiss: Yes, it would. Watch me do it, idiot.

Yang: The sands of this map hide many secrets- ARE YOU FUCKING FOR REAL?!

Weiss: YES!

Yang: ALL OF YOU HAVE A STAR EXCEPT FOR ME?!

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Ruby: Weiss, hear me out! Hear me out! Hear me out, Weiss!

Weiss: Hear what out?

Ruby: So Blake has gotten way too many blessings in this game-

Weiss: OH SHUT YOUR FREAKING FACE, YOU LEECH!

Ruby: JUST DO IT, WEISS!

Weiss: OH, SURE, MISS "I'M YOUR BIGGEST THREAT, BY THE WAY"!

Yang: You know what would be funny? If we all took from Ruby.

Weiss: THAT is a GREAT idea!

Ruby: WHAT?! Nononono! Don't trust her! She's trying to manipulate you! She's a puppet master and she'll make you her puppets!

Weiss: A puppet master?! SHE'S IN LAST FUCKING PLACE WITH NO STARS! HOW IS THAT A PUPPET MASTER?!

Weiss: Hey, Ruby? Who keeps taunting Yang and asking who's in last place? YOU!

Yang: It would be pretyy funny if we left her in the dust.

Ruby: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Said the snake as she slithered into first place!

Yang: Look, I'm just out here trying to survive.

Ruby: Whatever...

Blake: ...I'm vibing.

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Ruby: Weiss! Weiss! If you take from Blake now, I'll take from her next, and she won't be able to get the star. Cool?

Weiss: You are such a bitch.

Ruby: NO, WEISS, LISTEN TO ME!

Weiss: No, no, no. You listen to me. Do you know why Blake wins every game? It's because you idiots LOVE KILLING EACH OTHER! SHE IS THE BIGGEST FUCKING THREAT IN EVERY GOD DAMN GAME, AND YOU IDIOTS KEEP SABOTAGING ONE ANOTHER! SHE LITERALLY WINS EVERY GAME! HOW THICK IS YOUR SKULL?!

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Blake: You could probably curse Yang.

Weiss: Hm...

Yang: Wait! No!

Weiss: You could get the star, though...

Yang: How?! I only have 18 coins!

Weiss: You could win another mini-game!

Yang: And you go before me! Like, you're only two spaces away and- WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!

Weiss: ...This was the right move.

Yang: HOW?! I HAD EIGHTEEN COINS!

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Yang: What's a Bowser Bomb?

Blake: It would kill me, Weiss, and you.

Yang: ...

Weiss: Oh my god...

Yang: HAHAHAHAHAHA!

Blake: We are so dead.

Yang: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Ruby: YO, I GOTTA GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!

Blake: Roll a three or four!

Ruby: ...NO! NAT 1!

Weiss: Please seven or eight. Please seven or eight- FUCK! AND I'M STUCK WITH RUBY!

Blake: (Sighs) At least we get a duel mini-game before we die.

Yang: FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT!

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Superstar: BLAKE

[sebbiesolace]

*enters back into his shop*

“Hello again fish man. “

-It’s the expendable with the gun and now that Sebastian seeing them more clearly can see that it’s actually… a humanoid bird, what looks to be a crow-

“Sorry for robbing you earlier. Say, aren’t you Z-13? I remember hearing those.. scientists talking about how they had combined a human with other animals, I didn’t believe it at the time that they had managed to combine another humans DNA with animals… *sighs* I might as well introduce myself as you’ll be seeing me a lot. My name is Corvus (Birb) or as they called me, Z-01.”

-It seems like this expendedable isn’t any regular old thing, but another experiment just like Sebastian is-

“oh, and I got my gun after I gave one of the guards a little hello~..”

"Last I checked, BIRD, Z-01 was the crystal powering this damn place. A piece of a dead god..... And it's used as a glorified battery."

[He flicked his hair out of his face, letting it fall back down immediately. Sebastian let out a loud sigh, staring at the doorway into the room, grimacing at the visible bloodstains on it.]

"They made a lot of MISTAKES like you and I, friend. Most of them ended up dead... Urbanshade only keeps the ones with use... Until they're no longer of ANY use."

[The leviathan looked directly at the other experiment, the red lights of the submarine casting a heavy shadow over his face.]

And you BETTER be sorry for robbing me. Do it again and you'll be getting a free ticket to the pearly gates."