#mantis-scope

[rohvee]

The steampunk adventure au intro 🤎

The Piltover Academy auditorium was not the temple of quiet lectures and theory it usually was. Gone were the tiered seats where professors once pontificated beneath stained-glass oculi; the space had been gutted and reimagined in brass and linen.

What now sprawled was a great and haphazard bazaar of invention. Long rows of demonstration tables jostled for attention on the marbled floor, each bearing strange apparatuses like altars to rival gods. Arc-lamps, strung from wrought-iron gantries above, hissed and flickered, casting long shadows over polished gears and oiled levers. The scent in the air was thick: scorched copper, varnished mahogany, the faint sweetness of ozone.

This was the Distinguished Innovator’s Competition—an annual tempest of ambition and vision, where the Piltover Academy’s finest, or at least its most desperate, unveiled the inner machinations of their minds to the city’s elite. The auditorium was a throbbing cacophony: a din of overlapping demonstrations, raised voices, hydraulics, and the occasional alarming hiss from a pressurized pipe.

A mechanical arm attempted to knit a sock and promptly strangled itself with yarn. A self-boiling kettle shrieked like a banshee and spat steam in the face of its inventor, who bowed anyway. A student demonstrated an atmospheric condenser that quietly turned fog into ice within the glass lungs of a humming cube.

The judges floated through this chaos in clusters of three and four—academy staff in pressed uniform, trade lords with silver-topped canes, and venture financiers with toothy smiles. They murmured, took notes, and occasionally raised a brow to devastating effect. Some candidates blanched as they approached; others straightened spines and grinned too wide.

For those gathered here, it was not merely a contest. It was stage upon which a single brilliant moment might secure a lifetime of funding, patronage, and renown—or else consign an idea to obscurity and student debt.

This was Piltover’s true theater, and the curtain was already rising.

Jayce stood at his table, posture straight as a rifle barrel, but his fingers betrayed him—twitching at his sides, drumming anxious patterns along the seam of his coat. He’d polished his boots twice that morning. Now they scuffed restlessly against the gleaming tile, unable to keep still. The judges were one table away.

He glanced sidelong toward the neighboring exhibit and immediately regretted it.

Dmitri. Of course.

Dmitri and his stupid ponytail already grinning in his direction. The man beamed, raised both thumbs in an encouraging gesture that practically radiated good will.

Jayce scowled.

Top of the class. Preternaturally polite. Unfailingly kind. And always, always looked at Jayce like he'd hung the moon in the sky. Jayce loathed him with every fiber of his being.

He rolled his eyes and turned sharply back to his own table.

Jayce’s exhibition lay at the center like a reliquary in a chapel. It rested atop black velvet, arranged with ecclesiastical care: a gilded cradle of finework brass and filigree. It resembled some celestial device—an orrery or diviner’s scope more than any earthly thing. And yet at its heart nestled the true marvel: a gemstone, glistening blue, teardrop-shaped, clenched in golden teeth no wider than a compass needle.

Wires spilled from the contraption’s flank like viscera, snaking toward a tall mechanical limb to its right—elbow-jointed and claw-tipped, folded like a mantis in patient wait.

Jayce stirred at the movement in his peripheral. The judges had begun to bleed away from the neighboring display, and his heart climbed into his throat like a stowaway. He adjusted his stance, smoothed a wrinkle from his lapel, gave his curled moustache a twist, and composed himself.

They approached his table in a cluster.

A vastaya in pince-nez and brocade, fur combed sleek as gunmetal. A chirean of considerable height, nails lacquered and spats spotless. A man with a breathing apparatus of polished brass and wet, hissing filters—the scent of brine and antiseptic trailed him like perfume.

And last, the Dean of the Academy himself: Professor Cecil B. Heimerdinger, who had not missed a single competition in sixty-three years. The yordle's snowy mustache was a sculptural wonder that Jayce often envied.

Jayce inclined his head. “Welcome, honored gentlefolk,” he said, enunciating each word with theatrical clarity, though his pulse thundered in his ears. “I am Jayce Talis, son of the late Caetano Talis—explorer, inventor, and the first man to chart the skies beyond the Shadow Isles in search of the legendary Camavor.”

There were a few mutterings of recognition and approval. Everyone knew of Caetano Talis. His name held a weight that Jayce had every intention to exploit.

Jayce reached to the core of his device and delicately unseated the gem from its cradle. It caught the lamplight and held it like breath in a bottle—blue and infinite.

“On one such expedition, my father unearthed a most curious mineral—what he called a hexstone. Though it may appear unassuming, this is no ordinary gem. Within it pulses a force that defies steam, coal, or even combustion. Colleagues, this stone may offer what the engines of progress have long cried out for: clean, inexhaustible energy.”

There was a rustle among the onlookers. Heimerdinger’s eyebrows gave a subtle twitch. Nearby students—fellow inventors and visitors both, began to collect in a small crowd.

Jayce returned the stone to its golden housing and flipped a switch.

There was a moment’s silence—then the machine stirred.

Light welled up inside the hexstone like a sunrise in deep ocean. It crackled—delicate arcs of lightning leapt along its cage. The arm beside it unfurled like a serpent stretching after sleep. Servos whined. The claw rotated, then lowered with ritual gravity toward the metal block on the table.

A beat.

Then: a searing beam of blue lanced forth from the core of the claw. The table glowed with it. The metal block sizzled. Half the observers flinched.

Jayce kept his hand outstretched like a showman before a curtain drop.

“Laser cutters, as you know,” he said, “require immense power to operate—usually fed by great quantities of coal. And yet, this cutter is powered by a single hexstone.”

The beam sliced cleanly across the block, leaving a line of molten silver.

The judges stirred like deepwater fish sensing heat. There were sharp murmurs and the fevered scratchings of fountain pens.

Jayce cast his gaze over the crowd.

His eyes locked with another’s: a young man in the Piltover Academy uniform, leaning on a cane, a year his senior from the color of his cravat. His face was sharp, arresting, his expression one of quiet intrigue. Amber eyes held Jayce’s gaze with disarming steadiness.

Jayce faltered, momentarily thrown off course.

Then he gave a quick shake of his head, cleared his throat, and turned back to the judges, recovering his rhythm quickly.

“Alas,” he went on, “this is the only hexstone presently known to exist.”

A pause. Just long enough for the drama to curdle.

“My father left no coordinates, no records of the site where he found it. That is why I ask for your support. Your patronage, sponsoring an expedition of discovery. With it, I will retrace my father’s steps across Runeterra to find the source of the hexstones. To bring back more, and change the—”

A sudden noise interrupted him.

Wet and sparking, like a metal lung collapsing.

The generator hiccupped. Then rattled. The golden cradle hissed as veins of lightning began to crawl across its arms like restless centipedes. The gemstone's light shifted—brilliant, then flickering, then too-bright.

Jayce’s smile died.

“No—no no no, not now—”

The machine shrieked. The cutter arm twitched, spasmed, then swung violently to the left.

A student’s project—an elegant clockwork aviary—was reduced to burning feathers and melted brass in a blink.

The cutter jerked again. A nobleman’s hat halved neatly by the beam. Its owner screamed, clutching his scalp and dignity alike.

Jayce lunged for the controls, but the machine was not yet finished in its path of destruction.

The arm rose—higher, higher—then slashed upward in an arc of glorious light.

Right through the gantry.

There was a sizzle as the beam kissed iron. The structure groaned. Weld-points glowed red-hot. A shout echoed across the hall.

“Clear the floor!”

Panic moved like gas through a breached hull.

Innovators scattered, skirts catching, boots slipping on tiles gone slick with spilled oil and tea. The judges fled, coats flaring behind them. The gantry gave a final metallic shriek—then fell.

Arc-lamps burst like supernovae. Wires lashed. Sparks rained.

Flame found silk. A row of tables blossomed fire. Black smoke rose thick and cloying. Screams followed.

And at the center of it all, framed in the infernal glow of a dying dream, Jayce stood in shock.

He stood like a statue carved in the moment of tragedy. Mouth ajar. Blue in the strobe-flashes of the dying machine.

Professor Heimerdinger stepped through the ruin with the quiet dignity of someone who had weathered worse. It wasn’t the first Distinguished Innovators catastrophe—not by far. His waistcoat ends were scorched. His whiskers stood on end with residual static.

He stopped before Jayce, who glumly lowered his gaze.

“I am sorry, my boy,” Heimerdinger said, not unkindly. “It is a grand dream. But I fear the technology of our time is not yet ready to house such wonders.”

He touched Jayce’s hand—a ghost of reassurance—and turned to follow the tide of scholars, sponsors, and engineers streaming toward the exits beneath the alarm-bells.

Jayce remained a moment longer.

He moved then, stepping back to the smoldering remnants of his table. Amid scorched velvet and crushed metal, the hexstone lay still—dull and dormant. He lifted it from the debris, cradling it in his palms.

He turned to go, casting his miserable gaze to the smoke rising toward the fractured oculi far above, carrying his dreams away with it.

Jayce sat on the Academy steps with the slack posture of the thoroughly defeated. His coat was singed at the hem, and soot had settled in the folds of his collar like old guilt. In his hands, the hexstone glimmered faintly.

Behind him, the world carried on: fire-brigades doused the auditorium with hissing foam. Students clustered on the lawn, their voices low, scandal-bent. A few spared glares for the man on the steps. Some pointed accusatorily. One threw a crumpled flyer.

Jayce ignored them. He turned the stone over in his palm, as if a new angle might reveal something salvageable. It did not.

“Sorry, Papa,” he murmured to the stone. “I suppose I’ve fucked everything up again.”

There was a clap on his shoulder, startling him out of his melancholy.

“You’ll get it next year, mate,” chirped a voice like sunshine in a bottle.

Jayce didn’t have to look to know it was Dmitri: stupid ponytail bouncing, optimism radiating from every pore. “You were brilliant right up until the bit where everything exploded. And I’m sure you’ll get that part sorted. Just needs a bit of tinkering!”

Jayce said nothing. He didn’t even scowl.

Dmitri gave his shoulder a squeeze, then bounded off to go join their fellow students.

Jayce sighed. He reached for his coat pocket—and froze.

He patted it. Then the other side. Then rummaged through his satchel. Panic prickled.

“Shit,” he breathed.

His notebook was missing.

Years of equations, test notes, frantic breakdowns, errant sketches scrawled in midnight ink. Obsessions, revisions, half-formed revelations. His life’s work—every fevered inch of it. The thought that it all might’ve gone up in smoke filled his gut with a cold, rising horror.

“Looking for this?” said a voice, each syllable rolling with a thick accent—

Jayce turned—and startled.

It was the man from the crowd. The one with the cane and the amber eyes.

He stood a step above Jayce, idly flipping through a familiar leather-bound book. “I must say, Mr. Talis; I’ve never met anyone who signs every single page of their notes. A little egotistical, don’t you think?”

“Give me that!” Jayce scrambled upright, indignantly lunging for the book. He was a full head taller, but the man was quick and unconcerned. He pivoted with a deft flick of his cane, holding the notebook just out of reach like a matador taunting a bull.

“They were impressive pyrotechnics,” the man said, still leafing through. “But this ‘HexTech’ theory of yours—I’m far more interested in that.”

Jayce faltered mid-grab. “I—pardon?”

The man raised an eyebrow. “It worked, did it not?”

“I… suppose so,” Jayce muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I can’t stabilize the output. It always hits a runaway threshold and overfeeds the system.”

“Have you tried increasing the frequency?”

Jayce blinked. “I’ve always focused on dampening the oscillations.”

The man stopped at a page. “Ah, and therein lies your issue.” He drew a pencil from his vest pocket and scribbled a few marks. “Here—see this? You are thinking in terms of suppression, but the stone will only stabilize at high frequency.”

Jayce leaned in. His eyes widened.

He took the notebook, staring down at the page, wonder flooding his veins.

“So… I have to crank it,” he breathed.

The man blinked. Then gave a soft laugh. “Yes. You have to, eh, crank it.”

“It certainly works on paper, but...” Jayce breathed. “I must test this immediately.”

“A tad troublesome with a melted generator,” the man noted.

“I’ve another at my workshop,” Jayce replied. “A prototype. Not as refined, but it’ll do what we need it to do.”

“We?”

Jayce smiled—wide and sincere—then reached out to clap a hand on the man’s narrow shoulder, who raised a curious eyebrow at the contact.

“You solved the issue,” Jayce said. “You ought to see it through with me.”

The man regarded him. Then, with a shrug, “Lead on, then.”

Jayce turned, eagerly bounding down the steps with renewed purpose—then paused, glancing back.

“I realize I don’t even know your name.”

The man gazed at him for a moment, a slow smile crossing his face.

“It’s Reveck. Viktor Reveck.”

[galionne-vibin]

You ask Sniper Wolf for her pronouns and she tells you without looking away from her scope then asks you to go away you ask Vulcan Raven for his pronouns and he doesn't understand the question at first but after you explain it to him he nods thoughtfully before telling you his pronouns and thanking you for enlightening him you ask Decoy Octopus for their pronouns and they give you a massive list of differents sets with usage examples then ask for yours you ask Psycho Mantis for his pronouns and he blasts them into your brain before you even open your mouth (he already knows yours) you ask Liquid Snake for his pronouns and he goes on a rant about how his "brotherrr has pronouns" you ask Revolver Ocelot for his pronouns and he lies to you and then stabs you in the back when no one's looking

[raccoonfallsharder]

okok came up with something:

do you think that when/if MCU rocket hugs someone he gets a little nervous/scared as it reminds him of Lylla and how she died?

nonnie you sent this literally two weeks ago. i’m so sorry my bandwidth has been consumed by other shit, but i am super-grateful for this ask, and i hope you are having the loveliest of lovely days.

the short answer is: i think that rocket’s reaction to touch (and therefore hugs) is ALWAYS complicated.

but when have i ever settled for the short answer?

look. the first touch rocket remembers? it caused pure, splintering, white-hot pain. agony, in every muscle and bone. then he was tossed into a cage — taught that his body was not worth respecting and that his comfort would not be cared for, from the very first moments of his sentient consciousness.

and yet. that lesson was followed so closely by a kindness: lylla’s gentle, healing touch to his wounded brow.

i think about the high evolutionary, gripping rocket’s head like it was a geode he wanted to crack open. the veneer of his tenderness, layered thin and dangerous over a threat. i think of the flicker of recognition and wariness we see in young rocket’s eyes. while i suspect most actual surgeries were performed by the recorders, i am certain rocket has been hurt by these hands before: watched them dial up the voltage on an electric shock, perhaps. felt them scruff him and drag him back to his cage when he wasn’t performing up to expectations: too many extra -esses and -istics on his words, maybe. i think rocket craved the approval of his sire right up until those final few moments on halfworld, and a kind-seeming stroke to the crown of his head had meant the world to him.

and i think that first hug meant even more. he’d snuggled with floor in their shared cage but lylla is his hero: the first one to show him a kind touch, the one who understands him best. and i think he felt her death when she was shot in his arms.

i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again: so much of a raccoon’s brain is focused on processing tactile data. approximately two-thirds of the sensory perception area in their cerebral vortexes are dedicated to interpreting touch. by comparison — and wildly oversimplified — the average human brain relies primarily on sight, which only makes up about a third to a little over half of our sensory input. hearing is next, and finally, taste/smell/touch combined makes up only a tenth of our typical sensory perception. so all of rocket’s contradicting, conflicting experiences with touch are magnified — probably beyond the scope of our imaginations.

which makes hugs complicated.

he’s so touchstarved. he wants all the hugs. he doesn’t trust or like many people enough to want to want to hug them, though — at least not before groot, and that took some time. thank god the big guy’s persistent. and yeah, sure, there’s some ptsd — some painful flashbacks, some intrusive memories the first few times he lets pete hug him, or gamora, or drax. (not mantis, though. not yet. a hug from an empath is far too dangerous.)

but more than fearing an immediate replay of his first hug or a bright painful splash of nerves when he finally embraces someone — awkwardly, with a half-hearted pat-on-the-back — i think rocket is longterm-superstitious. he’d deny it, of course. but deep down, i’m afraid our poor guy believes his touch is poison — especially after groot senior dies.

sooner or later, the people who rocket attaches himself to — they all die. he is the common denominator.

i have a lil headcanon that on xandar, after the battle with ronan and groot’s sacrifice, drax’s gentle touch to rocket’s forehead reminds him of that first touch from lylla. i think that might be terrifying for rocket. i think that’s why he tries so hard to fuck everyone over on sovereign. he wants them to stay, and he wants them to leave. he wants to push them away — for their own safety, and for his. not consciously, of course — that guy’s a mess — but he’s got this uncontrollable impulse to sabotage any real chance at any real relationship that he’s got.

and then there’s the snap.

i don’t think the average person really notices rocket’s complicated relationship with touch and hugs — he hides it well under the mask of not bein’ a touchy guy and not bein’ a frickin’ sap. but it’s afterward — after the snap, when all his friends are safely returned — that we briefly see his fear, before he manages to cover it up again.

even his friends had forgotten, perhaps — just how reticent he’d used to be, how unwilling to engage in any sort of physical affection. groot probably doesn’t even remember that time in his father’s life at all, because rocket would have pushed himself to ignore it so he could better take care of his young son. and over the course of the guardians’ shared time together, rocket would have gotten used to the occasional backslap or headpat or hug, in a sort of exposure-therapy-way. craved them, always. feared them, still. but also, been sort of inoculated against the superstitious instinctive terror.

there are no booster shots over the course of the snap though — only a seeming confirmation of his worst fears.

i suspect there’s this heartbreaking moment off-screen, sometime in the aftermath of his friends’ return. it’s probably with pete. one night, late on the flight deck: just rocket and pete and nebula, staying awake deep into the sleep-shift and drinking to gamora’s memory. talking about her, and about everyone else’s five year absence. at some point, rocket will say something unintentionally revealing, and pete will get a glimpse of just how hard these past five years were for his friend — just how much pain and loneliness he’s been swamped in. and since pete is a very tactile guy — for a human, anyway — so i’m sure he goes in for a hug.

and rocket recoils so hard that he knocks his fucking chair over, spills his drink, and falls on his ass.

because he’s that afraid of hurting his friend.

there’s a moment, and then pete laughs — says something about rocket having become clumsier over the years, or that he can’t hold his liquor anymore. maybe pete’s too drunk or self-absorbed to put it together; maybe he’s not. maybe he sees the flinch for what it is, and elects not to embarrass his bestie by pointing it out.

yeah yeah, laugh it up, rocket will say, climbing back to his feet and righting his chair, brushing the alcohol off his jumpsuit and rolling his eyes.

but nebula knows. there’ve been too many drunk confessions between them over the five years of loneliness. and after pete goes to bed, she leans across the table, and laces her fingers through rocket’s. he still visibly flinches, but he’s used to this, at least: nebula’s silent reminder that she’s still here, through everything.

it sounds grim, i know. but don’t forget — we’ve seen the future. we know there will come a time, in only a few short years, when rocket will welcome hugs from his worried friends, from his son. when he’ll very tenderly hold little raccoons in his arms, and bring them home.

and he’ll realize, at some point — perhaps beyond the arête wreckage and the dancing, when the raccoons are grown and the star children aren’t really children anymore, and phyla is leading the next mission all on her own — that his touch isn’t poison at all.

that it has saved so many things, and helped them grow.

headcanons & imagines | drax & lylla symmatry pt 1 | raccoon sensory perception | rocket’s love languages pt 2 (touch)

[toy-powerhouse]

The Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles turtles have some serious “No Friends” energy: Or the turts lack a support network of allies and friends, so it makes the series feel empty

Maybe one of the biggest failings of Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (out of many other failings) is how the titular characters lack a (non-familial) support network. They don't really have any friends or allies, and what few friends/allies they do have are very underappreciated, underrepresented, and underutilized (Todd Capybara and Señor Hueso) or "upgraded" to the much more valued status of family members (April and Draxum).

Despite possibly being the most attention-seeking turtles ever to be created so far, they never seem to have any desire to receive attention from outside the family unit. They're all so insular despite constantly showboating in a world where largely no one has any issues with them being mutant turtles. For the most part, the whole world, both human and Yōkai, is their oyster, and they’re free to roam around and mingle as they please. Yet they're largely content to remain detached from it all. And, that lack of connection makes the series, and its entire universe feel so empty and so small in scope. This emptiness is made especially obvious when compared to other TMNT adaptations that do give the mutant turtles a stronger and plentiful network of friends/allies or at least have the turtles working towards building such close-knit ties with others outside their family unit. The 2003 series was so chock full of friends/allies, it ended on a big damn wedding attended by all the folks they befriended. Even if RotTMNT continued beyond 1 ½ seasons and a movie (technically, it’s two seasons, but let’s be real, season two is too truncated to count as its own season), it’d be highly unlikely that the turtles of that series would ever amass that many notable friends/allies.

We see some glimmers of interest that the turtles have in being a part of a world outside themselves, but aside from those fleeting instances, their disinterest in anything apart from themselves is palpable and never challenged in any major way. This limits the characters’ experiences, their development as well as the overall narrative. It makes all their wacky adventures or dramatic exploits seem repetitive and hollow in a way better kids’ shows mitigate with a compelling cast of supporting characters (i.e., friends and/or allies for the protagonists).

Instead, what RotTMNT lacks in platonic support it more than makes up for in enemies, albeit mostly underdeveloped enemies. The turtles just sort of gain enemies time and time again (because they’re usually unfunny obnoxious screw-ups), which makes their lack of reoccuring friends/allies even more noticeable. Big Mama, Warren Stone, Hypno-Potamus, Repo Mantis, Meat Sweats, the Purple Dragons, Ghostbear, Baxter Stockboy, Sando Brothers, etc., (Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, more like Everybody Hates the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, lmao). You get the idea; the turtles seem to have a talent for making more enemies than friends/allies.

But, with friends like the turts (correction: turds), who needs enemies?

The biggest middle finger the series shows to the idea of allies is when in the season one finale, “End Game,” the following allies join April and Splinter to rescue the turds as the B-Team: Bullhop, Franken-Foot, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N., and Todd Capybara. Only for the quartet to be captured immediately and left for dead because they’re never brought up again in the episode. While each of the so-called "allies" of B-Team aren't given much respect both in- and out- of universe, Bullhop (real name Stanley) may be the least respected. In short, the turds ruined Stanley's life, showed little grace to the poor guy before he got unceremoniously ousted from the series. He got mutated by the Oozesquitos the turds had accidently released from Draxum's lab, the turds let him stay at the lair with them for a bit to make amends but were on the verge of kicking him out because he was annoying to live with (Gee, those sure are a lot of pots calling the kettle black…), only for him to leave anyway of his own volition. He then shows up one more time in "End Game" to get captured by the Foot Clan, and because this was his last appearance, it's probably fair to assume that he died/was killed while the other three managed to escape unscathed. RIP Stanley, I know he must be ballet dancing his heart out somewhere in cartoon heaven.

It's characters like Bullhop combined with other infrequently or one-time occurring allies like Casey (Sr.), Señor Hueso, Marcus Moncrief (aka Jupiter Jim), Sunita, Piebald, Red Fox, and so on that show how little the series wants to commit to giving the titular characters a stable support network built on trust and camaraderie. The closest we get to a true, ride or die ally and friend is Todd (see “Todd Scouts” and “Anatawa Hitorijanai”) and even he barely gets any respect. In “Anatawa Hitorijanai,” he provides them with a haven away from the Shredder when he’s taken over New York, forges them weapons they use to save the day, and he receives no thanks or any real acknowledgment for doing any of it which makes the turtles come off as very ungrateful to their greatest ally and friend. The way in which the series represents friends and allies is, at times, tinged with a dismissive, even mean-spirited undertone that feels like a slap in the face to themes and messages that the franchise often represents.

TMNT is a franchise that’s narrative is built on connection and the desire for misfits to find acceptance. In many adaptations, the turtles pine for meaningful relationships outside themselves and Splinter. And, while this theme doesn’t need to be the focus of every adaptation, its absence in RotTMNT does strip from the characters an extra layer of depth and misses out on an opportunity to make them more relatable to members of the audience, especially those who’ve ever felt alienated.

If RotTMNT wanted to focus more on the familial relationships of the titular characters instead, that would be one thing. However, even the development and depth of those familial relationships are lacking. For instance, Splinter’s neglect of the turtles is never truly confronted along with the impact of Raph’s parentification (the underdeveloped family dynamic is something to be expanded upon for another entry in my lengthy list of grievances with this adaptation).

There was so much potential to explore new relationships for the turtles outside their own little world. The introduction of Yōkai opened new possibilities for the characters with them being able to be among other non-humans (the underdeveloped role of Yōkai and their Hidden City is also a topic for another day). Even the more lenient human world offered a new perspective. But, like all things surrounding Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, it was just more wasted potential.

[gravity-what]

Chinese Character on Shen Gong Wu Scroll?

One thing I’ve been curious about is the bottom left symbol on the Shen Gong Wu scroll. This one:

And what it could mean for the Shen Gong Wu itself and, well, I found images of as many of the Wu entries as I could and I present you with translations:

熊 = Bear = mikado arms, fist of tebigong,

龍 = Dragon = ring of the nine dragons, Fountain of Hui, Lunar Locket, shroud of Shadows, Sapphire Dragon, Longi Kite, Shard of Lightning, Sands of Time, Ying-Yo-Yo (NOTE: Yang Yo-Yo’s page is blank), WuShan Geyser, Moby Morpher, Kuzusu Atom, Rio Reverso, Ruby of Ramses,

蛇 = Snake = Mind reader conch, Sphere of Yun, serpents tail, Lotus Twister,

猴 = Monkey = Mantis flip coin

��� = Scorpion = emperor scorpion, Manchurian Musca

豹 = Leopard = Eye of Dashi, Sword of the Storm, Crouching Cougar, Shadow Slicer

鹿 = Deer = Helmet of Jong

蝶 = Butterfly = Changing Chopsticks, Wings of Tinabi, Shadow of Fear, woozy shooter, Denshi Bunny, Zing Zom-Bone

象 = Elephant = Two-Ton Tunic

鷹 = Eagle = Tangle Web Comb, Falcons Eye, Crystal Glasses, Reversing Mirror

鯨 = Whale = orb of Tornami

螳螂 = mantis = Glove of Jisaku, Fancy Feet,

? 虫 = insect = Black Beetle (I get the feeling this is supposed to be beetles as well like ants in the pants but whoever drew the scroll didn’t know what they were doing…)

甲蟲 = beetles = ants in the pants

蜘蛛 = Spider = Moonstone locust

牛 = Cow = Cannon Blaster

——

Personally (and I wish I had translated this earlier for the sake of fanfics) but bet is on these either being 1) the type of spirit that is trapped in the Wu (ex: a monkey spirit is what was trapped to create the mantis flip coin) or 2) potentially the symbol is more just to highlight a specific characteristic of the Wu. (Ex: the eagle character has two Wu that relate to vision and sight. However how the tangle web comb fits into that… idk)

Either way! Just some interesting notes for people to use as they wish! Also below the cuts are the unknowns since I couldn’t find a scroll image for them

Third-Arm Sash •

Jetbootsu •

Monkey Staff •

Golden Tiger Claws •

Star Hanabi •

Tongue of Saiping • = ????

Sun Chi Lantern • = ????

Heart of Jong •

Silver Manta Ray •

Wushu Helmet •

Thorn of Thunderbolt •

Tunnel Armadillo •

Ju-Ju Flytrap •

Silk Spitter •

Sweet Baby Among Us •

Lasso Boa-Boa •

Monsoon Sandals •

Mosaic Scale • = ???

Monarch Wings • = ???

Gills of Hamachi •

Eagle Scope •

Shen-Ga-Roo •

Golden Finger •

Hodoku Mouse •

[zorosjuicymelonsx]

Finding You

First of all, thank you all so much for your patience and your continuous love for this fic 💚

Second of all: I really hate life right now 😭

I hate this job and I'm currently trying to look for another one. Its been really stressing me out and has affected my mental health to the point where I all I do is work and rot and mentally feel incapacitated to do any of my hobbies. Unfortunately I have to be an adult and can't leave my job until I can get another job 💀

Third of all: I really hope you enjoy this chapter, I had a little bit of a writers block as well but never forgot you guys and its all of you guys that kept me motivated to continue doing what I love which is writing and using my imagination ❤️ I can't believe we're on 4.6k reads on AO3 and over 350 likes on Tumblr, I thought my eyes were deceiving me thank you all so much 😱🩷

Chapter 10 Previous Next

Your ears pick up on the growing sounds of birds chirping. Your skin felt the blanket of warmth lay over you along with your eyelids exposed to the light of the sunrise over you. Normally, you wouldn’t be opposed to some warmth while you slept, however you found yourself beginning to overheat. You scrunch your brows feeling the heat continue to seep into your skin. Begrudgingly opening your eyes slowly, you do your best to scope your surroundings with minimal movement. You couldn’t quite figure out why you’re feeling so hot right now…until you felt the shimmy of a foreign object across your waist. 

Slowly bringing your chin down to inspect, you see a lightly tan arm wrapped around you. At first you let out a sigh of relief that you didn’t feel any danger posed with the arm and you certainly felt relief when you realised it was just Zoro’s arm. You smile to yourself before slowly closing your eyes in the hopes to return to your peaceful slumber.

‘Zoro’s arms around me…’

….

‘HIS ARM IS AROUND ME???’

Your eyes gape open in the span of 0.00001 seconds, your cheeks begin to heat up as you try to keep your heart calm. Even perspiration wasn’t your friend in this situation. You looked back down at the arm gripping your waist, keeping your arms tightly tucked into your chest like a praying mantis. Your ears potentially picked up on the gentle snores that came from him, your back picking up on the steady breathing that's coming from his chest. 

You didn’t want to wake him up but at the same time, you didn’t want him to wake up to this and feel the anxiety he described to you. You had to ensure that you protected Zoro’s wellbeing as much as he protected everyone else's. Taking a deep quiet breath, you bring your right hand down to gently pry his arm away. 

Amidst your efforts to avoid waking up sleeping beauty, you’d forgotten one small detail about him; he had this uncanny ability to sense any disturbance in his sleep. 

“Y/N, stop moving so much.” Zoro mumbled out. You sucked in a breath. 

‘He’s awake.’

“M’sorry but you’re literally a furnace. Please get off me.” You almost pleaded, you didn’t want him to feel anxious the moment he woke up and saw you. 

Relief flooded you as you felt the heat lift off your skin and the ability to move yourself around. He didn’t seem too bothered by the sleeping arrangement but you remembered how good he was at hiding his true feelings. You turned to look at him on his side as he napped, the gentle inhalation of quiet breaths that filled his chest. Your eyes zoned onto the sunlight perched on his tan skin, deepening his light caramel complexion. Your eyes crept up to his face and the peaceful expression of his closed eyes and solemn lips, the curvature of his nose and the apples of his cheeks.

Ignoring the growing heat in your cheeks, you move to bring yourself to stand off the ground and gently stretch your sore body, the soil on the ground now not quite as soft as you’d remembered it before passing out from exhaustion. You took a few steps away from Zoro, looking around the trees and over the lake to refresh yourself on your surroundings. 

“When should we go back?’’ You broke the silence as you continued looking around. 

“Gimme five min.’’ 

You rolled your eyes. 

‘Typical Zoro’

“You can nap on the ship.’’ You counter argue. You knew five minutes would turn into at least an hour. 

“I know.’’ 

“Then…what's stopping us from going home earlier?” You persisted.

“You.’’ 

Frowning in confusion, you turned to face the swordsman who hadn’t moved, his eyes still closed. 

“Me?’’ You questioned pointing at yourself unconsciously. 

“I don’t know when it will just be us two like this again.” 

Your breath hitched, your eyebrows relaxed now as you held back the sound of an awe you’d wanted to say in response to his answer. 

“But you said-’’

“I know…I’m fighting it.” His eye finally opened to meet yours, seeing the softness in his iris and the somewhat solemn tone of his voice that sounded accepting of his situation. 

You purse your lips, the guilt you’d felt for him came back in full force. Clearing your voice, you walked to stand in front of him, holding out your hand, noticing his focus shifting to it. 

“I’m starving, we haven’t eaten anything in over 24 hours.” 

Zoro gave a quick huff before accepting your hand and helping him up. In doing so, once he was up he dragged you into a hug, the air in your lungs practically squeezed out. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“What for?”

“Everything.” 

“Zoro…it's not your fault.” 

He looked at you solemnly, his hands atop each of your shoulders before leaning in to quick your lips a quick peck. You unconsciously slapped your palm over your mouth at the shock of his action, watching the red in the apples of his cheeks grow. 

“Alright, get us out of here.” Zoro tried to sound assertive and confident, unknowingly you could hear a nervous shake in his tone. 

Nodding, you checked your surroundings once more before creating a hole back to the Sunny. Once the hole formed big enough for the both of you to go through, you gestured for him to go in first. He walked through, shortly following after him and finding yourselves back in your shared bedroom. You turned back to close the hole, feeling the effects of your fruit wash over you in exhaustion. The lack of food and water definitely made it worse. 

“You okay?” Zoro cautiously asked. You looked up at him, seeing the concern in his eye. You gave him a small smile and nodded. 

“Yeah it's just the side effects, that's all.” You assured him. 

“Y/N, Marimo…is that you?” You heard a familiar voice muffled behind your door. 

“Yes Sanji, we’re okay.” You loudishly responded, visibly seeing annoyance on Zoro's expression as Sanji opened the door, followed by Nami and Luffy. You could see relief in all of their faces, a small wave of guilt flooded you remembering your sudden departure yesterday. 

“Oh Y/N-chan, are you okay?! Marimo, why does she look like this? I’m going to kill you.” Sanji's face of endearment turned to flames as his gaze went to Zoro who gruffly sighed in response.

“Sanji, I’m fine-” 

“Are you hungry? You must be, let's go.” Sanji grabbed your hand and dragged you out of the room towards the kitchen. You were surprised that you let Sanji lead you but your exhaustion really felt like a heavy weight on you and you didn’t have enough strength to take control from him. You instead just let him lead you to sit at the kitchen table, knowing food and water is needed to make a speedy recovery. 

What your exhaustion failed to pick up on was the hardened grit in Zoro's teeth and deep scowl as he stood there and watched the cook take you away, his hands clenched into fists. His anxiety at the thought of you was in his throat but at the same time his chest burned with anger at the contact Sanji made with your hand. Unconsciously, he let his legs walk him to the kitchen in pursuit of you. 

Nami and Luffy looked at each other in confusion before following behind and taking their seats at the kitchen table, each of them beside you. Shortly, all the Straw Hats followed in and sat as they patiently waited for Sanji to serve them breakfast. Amongst all your crew members, you were the only one who’d been slow at eating, almost picking at your plate as you took your time to savour your food. 

“Y/N, why are you eating so slow?! Are you full? Can I have your food?!” Luffy offered with a big grin on his face, practically seeing stars in his pupils which was soon wiped away as a kitchen cloth was whipped over his face from the angry cook in front of him. 

“You leave her plate alone, how many times do I have to tell you this?” Sanji said through his teeth, walking over to stand beside you and placed his right hand on your shoulder in worry. 

“You don’t have to finish it if you’re full, I won’t feel offended, Y/N-chan.” Sanji said soothingly, you looked up to meet his gaze which quickly dropped to his hand which gripped you gently. 

“It's fine San-” 

What you both didn’t realise was the grumpy swordsman who sat across from you had stood up to go around and grab Sanji's wrist and take it off your shoulder. The other's quiet chatter amongst each other turned into pure silence at the definite start of another infamous Zoro vs Sanji fight.

“Stop touching her so much shit-cook.” Zoro said in a low tone to the cook. You could hear the deep anger in his throat, shifting yourself to look at the swordsman and how his tone equally matches his expression of anger.

“Excuse me? Get your shitty hand off me.” Sanji turned to face Zoro head on. You felt sick to your stomach, you didn’t understand what had gotten into him.

“Why do you keep touching her? You understand she's my wife right? You think I wanna sit here and watch you prance around her like a shitty prairie dog?!” Zoro stated bluntly, you could practically see steam coming off of him. 

The question stunned all the Straw Hats including yourself, your jaw dropped and felt a wave of heat flood you at the sudden change in his behaviour, feeling embarrassed that this started because of you and furthermore more embarrassed it was happening in front of everyone. 

You quickly stood up to stand between the two, taking your focus onto Zoro to calm him. 

“Zoro, its oka-”

“Oh all of a sudden, she's your wife?! You’ve been nothing but shit to her, she's beautiful and the kind of woman that you don’t deserve.” Sanji bit back with fire on fire. You turned to face Sanji, now you were getting pissed off.

“Sanji, that's enough.” 

“Bite me shitty cook.”

“THATS ENOUGH!” Nami shouted as she stood to intervene. You felt a wave of gratitude towards the navigator. 

You took advantage of the given opportunity to defuse the fight and decided to drag Zoro by his wrist away from the kitchen and to the Crows Nest. You could hear the sound of Nami telling off Sanji distance itself as you both moved further away. You both arrived in the nest, dropping his wrist as you took a deep breath to gather your thoughts. You really did try to keep calm but you couldn’t help but ask the one pestering question you had in your mind. 

“What the fuck was that?!” 

“I didn’t want him touching you, I’m so sick of seeing him drool over anyone with a pair of tits.” Zoro hadn’t seemed to calm down since moving him away from the source of his anger. 

“It's not okay to do that, why do you feel the need now to start picking fights because of me?!” You were genuinely upset and confused. You were really trying to be considerate of his feelings and to assure nothing would change until he sorted out his temporary curse. 

“I may not understand how my head is working right now but I know for damn sure I didn’t like seeing that.”

“Zoro, you know what Sanji is like and you know my heart only belongs to you. I wanna find this bastard and end this so we can be together in peace and you don’t have to feel like blowing your brains out.” 

Hearing this you could see Zoros gaze visibly soften, the anger finally dissipated from his being. He brought his right hand up to the back of his neck to stroke away any remnants of anger left, remaining awkwardly standing there.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Zoro mumbled out sheepishly. 

“I think you apologise to Sanji.” 

“Over my dead body.” Zoro deadpanned. 

“Well it was worth a try.” You chuckled out as you stepped towards him to give a quick hug. 

Zoro allowed the hug as he stood awkwardly, you eventually let go and now both of you stood there not knowing what to do with yourselves. You suddenly felt a presence somewhere in the room, feeling the hair on your body stiffen. You had to concentrate on who it might be until you realised there was a pair of hands pointing towards the exit of the door. 

“Robin wants to speak with us.” You announced to Zoro, you could hear a grunt responding to you before you both embarked out of the Crows Nest and towards the library where you both knew she would be waiting. As you approached the door, Zoro quickly sped up to open the door and let you in first. 

You had to fight the fast-approaching redness of his courteous behaviour, mumbling a shy thank you and entering the library where you found Robin sipping on a tea in the most comfortable looking chair. Lowering her cup, she looked up at the both of you with a small smile on her face. 

“I’m glad you guys are here, don’t worry I won’t take too long. I just wanted to talk about my research into our swordsmans…interesting situation.” Robin clarified, a small pocket of air you’d held in relief itself. 

You’d always braced yourself whenever you were summoned by other people in life, even if it was over the smallest of things. You had to thank your dad for that, the bastard always made you feel like you were in the hot seat whenever you’d conversed (argued more like). 

Robin's small smile turned slightly tight. If that meant anything to you, it was that she hadn’t found anything positive. 

“Zoro has been touched by our friend who holds the Wipe-Wipe no Mi devil fruit abilities. I must say there's very little written about it. The reason that not a lot is known about this fruit is because it gives the user the ability to wipe either your entire memory or certain portions or people of their choosing, which is what's happened to Zoro-san.” 

You unconsciously nodded, recalling the prick had mentioned he’d purposely removed you from Zoro's memory. 

“When our friend Enver had wiped you from his memory, in the process he added some sort of barrier around his mind. This barrier is keeping him in a state where any thought of you makes him mentally push you away even more. This would explain his behaviour towards you and why he feels he needs to stay away is not of his own doing but because he cannot control it. It's quite interesting when you think about it and how powerful this could be in the wrong hands, in this instant it is and we have to stop him in any way we can.” 

“I-is there any cure to this?” You asked cautiously, soaking in the information Robins spent weeks looking into for you. 

A quiet disappointed sigh expelled from the archaeologist. 

“I’ll be honest; there is no known cure. Zoro could be like this for the rest of his life.” 

You’d felt your heart drop, your lip thinned as it threatened to wobble at the thought of your husband being in this endless cycle of anxiety for life. 

“However, I have faith that Zoro can break this.” 

“Despite no victim recorded ever being known to break this barrier, I believe that Zoro is strong enough that he could break the barrier. He has already shown that he can speak to you and be around you even if he is constantly fighting away the urge to be away from you 24/7. This is our hope.” 

“What about Chopper's cure?” Zoro asked. 

“Inconclusive, our poor doctor has worked himself to the bone trying to figure out what's wrong with his antidote. He may not be able to find a cure at all, however, I won’t discourage him from trying for his friends.” You hummed in agreement and appreciation of Choppers efforts. 

“Don’t lose hope, it's all we have right now.” Robin assured me. 

You used to be a woman of God, the idea of something better coming despite your difficult upbringing allowed for your will to continue. You’d since given up on belief since Zoro's disappearance. All the bad that had happened to you during the time you were apart and you couldn’t comprehend why any God or powerful force above would ever hurt you the way this did when you’d committed no atrocities and only wanted to live peacefully. 

“Thank you for everything Robin, I’ll be off.” You’d walked out of the room, leaving Zoro behind who seemed deep in thought. There was one question the archaeologist pondered about the swordsman. The swordsman had about to make a step out towards the exit until he heard Robin's throat clearing itself. 

“Zoro-san, have you seen anything come back to you in the weeks that Y/N has been with us?” 

Zoro stayed still hearing her question, choosing not to answer. He knew that she knew deep inside he had started seeing the flashbacks. He also knew she would be wise not to be and that she had to trust his reasons for keeping this to himself all this time.

Robin hummed, confirming her suspicions as she watched the swordsman leave the library.  

‘I wonder if he’s fallen for her again…’

————————————- ⚔️✨ ————————————

Taglist: @starlightanyaaa @eggrollforyou @rosellerinfrost @qalable @ecang

[shyficwriter]

Temporary Home : Chapter 29

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: Pretty much all fluff and some mischief. The guys invite Reader to play a game, and they all just hang out and have drinks after.

Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here Or click here to: Start From Beginning

Author’s Note: Shorter chapter this time. Thank you to @allylin05 for the suggestion of the fluffy scene at the end (though it's been so long since you suggested it you probably forgot that you did- but I finally found a good place to add it in lol) For my records this chapter ends on day 88 of the Guardians living with reader. Enjoy!

Word Count: 3,288

A couple days had past since you begrudgingly granted Peter the title of "The Prank Master," and ever since he had become insufferable.

Every moment you that found the two of you alone he'd smirk and whisper "Prank Master!" before poking you and running off before you could smack him. And every moment you were in the same room, but weren't alone, he'd still give you a knowing grin, which you always returned with a roll of your eyes. Other times, if he needed to ask you something he'd stroll up and proclaim something like, "The Prank Master requests to know where he might find a pen!" (And then you'd un-enthusiastically point to the drawer beside him, because you knew that he knew where they were by now, and that he was just wanting any excuse he could get to rub it in your face that you had declared him "The Prank Master.")

At one point you did come very close to beating him over the head with the nearest chair, after maybe the 10th or 20th time of him calling himself the Prank Master, but lucky for him Mantis called you from the other room requesting help finding some paper.

Then one evening you mused to yourself as you lounged sideways in one of the armchairs with a book, having found a rare moment where the sitting room was empty; There was one benefit- just one- and that was that his annoyingness had helped take your mind off the tunnel situation, which was good considering you couldn't ask anyone about it.

Logic told you it must have been Fury, because it's always Fury, but Reason told you that idea made no sense. Firstly, he'd have to know about it. Secondly, even if he did, how would fixing it up benefit the assignment he tasked you with? Thirdly, assuming he knew about it- or found it when scoping out your place, and assuming it somehow would benefit you in keeping the Guardians here (though you could not for the life of you figure out how it might) -- then why wait so long to do it?

Realizing you were speculating too much again you shook the thought away and tried to lose yourself in your book, only to be rudely torn from it some minutes later when you felt a hand grab your ankle, quickly followed by someone sending ticklish charges through your nervous system as they began scratching at the bottom of your foot.

A shriek escapes your throat and you spasm in the chair, dropping your book to the floor. Said shriek turns to panicked laughter and you begin to kick at Peter, your annoying assailant, who laughs and drops your foot, ceasing his attack only moments after it began and saying, "We're bored."

"Clearly!" you scold, giving him an incredulous glare at how he chose to get your attention as you snatch up your book from the floor and pull your feet towards you and away from any possible re-attack. "And just what does that have to do with me?" You glance to see Drax and Kraglin standing behind him and feel your face grow warm as you realize that you had been so engrossed with your book that hadn't even noticed any of them walk in.

"Wanna play a game?"

Your eyes narrowed slightly. Obviously, you had doubts. "What game?" This better not be anything stupid, or anything at your expense. He was already on thin ice, but at least he hadn't come in touting his "Prank Master" nonsense.

"You laugh you lose."

Your eyes immediately narrow further and you glare at Peter, immediately assuming where this was going, and for good reason, but then Drax speaks up.

"Peter already made her laugh, does that mean the game is over?"

"No Drax, we ain't even started playing yet." Kraglin answers before turning to you and explaining, "We saw a guy playing it on the TV the other day. You watch a buncha these funny clips and whoever laughs loses."

Drax speaks up again, "And we just bet Peter that he could never win against you-"

"-On account he's a giggly little shit and you hardly laugh at anythin'." Kraglin finished, slightly smirking with an unsaid joke about how maybe he was wrong given just seconds ago Peter had made you immediately collapse into laughter. He grinned and nudged Peter, who frowned at him.

"I'm not a 'giggly little shit!'" Peter says exasperatedly, clear that he already had this debate with Kraglin before they came to find you.

You blink, then give a slightly annoyed frown, hiding your relief that your assumption of their game was wrong. "I do too laugh at stuff… not my fault if none of you are funny." You considered asking why they didn't ask Gamora or Yondu to play with them instead, as he probably wouldn't be able to win against them either, but then realized they likely had already turned them down if they had. Figuring maybe it would be fun to take him down a peg for all the "Prank Master" stuff you decide to play along. "And… you kinda are…" you tease Peter, grinning. It was kinda true, if he had a drink in him, but you felt like teasing him anyway.

"Then you're a stick in the mud." Peter countered. Then, with a mischievous smirk he adds, "Except for this-" he moves to tickle you again but you smack him away. He laughs in response, but he doesn't attempt again. "You going to play or not?"

You roll your eyes and stand. "Alright, I'll play- but only because I have nothing better to do right now." Not a total lie. Sure, you could be reading, but again- this was a surefire way to bring the "Prank Master" down a peg.

The four of you head to the couch, Drax sitting on one end and you at the other with Kraglin sitting between you and Peter.

Kraglin pulls up a YouTube video on the television screen titled "Try Not to Laugh Challenge". It was a compilation of different funny videos being reacted to by youtuber you recognized. Before beginning he stated that the compilation he was about to watch was "highly rated" on Reddit.

You considered telling the guys that you could probably find a compilation to watch on its own, but decided you didn't actually care enough to search one out when they already had this one up.

Drax was the first to break, letting out a loud booming laugh when a news anchor ran screaming for his life after a large chicken spooked him.

Peter tried to tease him for losing so early, but Drax merely frowned and stated that he didn't understand why one wouldn't want to laugh at something funny. You grin and shake your head at him, not surprised that he wouldn't have understood the game.

Kraglin lost next, to a clip where a man fell through the ceiling in a store, yet merely prompted a calm exchange of; "Hey Ron." "Hey Billy." pause "… that hurt."

Admittedly you found that one quite funny as well, but you kept it together, having barely cracked a smile the whole time. Hell, if they were going to accuse you of "Hardly laughing at anything" you might as well prove them right if for no other reason than making Peter lose his bet. And, as it'd turn out, that video didn't succeed in making you laugh at all, and since Peter also kept it together, you all opted to let the next video come through the autoplay.

It was from the same creator and title, only this seemed to be #14 in his series.

Peter cracked his knuckles and looked cockily at you as the movie began, to which you merely rolled your eyes. You could almost hear him telepathically telling you that he'd win because he was "The Prank Master," - even if that didn't make sense as a reason why he would win.

Neither of you laughed at the first few clips, although one of a dog letting out a terrible howl made Kraglin jump, which did make you crack a smile.

A clip of a huskie sneezing several times, only to "explode" on the last one nearly made Peter break, and Kraglin could be heard laughing beside you. Since loosing on the last video, Drax had been spending his time going between a thankfully lower volume of laughter and looks of confusion to clips he didn't understand the humor behind.

A clip came up of a cat getting bonked on the head with a bouncing ball, and a wide grin came over your face at the unexpected expression it made, but you pulled it together just as quickly by the next clip. Throughout the next several clips you managed a blank expression, much to Peter's annoyance, as he was having trouble not grinning.

This became worse for him when a clip of a young man asking for a Capri Sun got hit in the face with a full gallon jug (set inside the ATLA opening), and he had to choke back a laugh. And again when the video made a callback to this same clip later but set into a different context.

These seemed to open the floodgates because he then started having trouble holding back with every clip.

You smiled watching him try to pull himself together. It was clear he was falling victim to the whole 'Everything is funnier when you're not supposed to laugh' rule.

It wasn't until a clip where an Animaniac started to sing "The Nations of the World" and only got to "United States" before being cut off by Donald Glover firing a pistol and singing "This is America" did you finally have another reaction, nearly choking as you swallowed a laugh. The others didn't get the reference to Americans and their guns and so didn't find it nearly as funny as you, someone who had lived on Earth to understand various nations politics, but you knew there was bound to be a few clips like that that only you'd really understand. Hopefully there wouldn't be too many if you wanted to win.

You pulled it together in time for Peter to start losing again with a clip of a bouncy parrot and then a howly husky, but he got it together when audio referencing a movie he had never seen played over a Rabbi dunking a baby.

Unfortunately the YouTuber lost at that clip and the video ended, leaving both you and Peter once again undefeated.

Finding that this was actually fun you didn't mind when another video queued up. It was by the same creator as before, but this time #13 in the series.

Several clips go by and Peter is biting his lip not to laugh while you simply sit there unfazed. It wasn't until a clip came up of a sleeping man holding a woman's foot, fingers laced with her toes as if it were her hand, came up that you made any sound at all, but it was a gag of disgust rather than a laugh. Of course, Peter tried to accuse you of having laughed, but was quickly shut down by Kraglin.

The video continued, again with Peter being frustrated that you were watching with little emotion while he couldn't manage the same, seemingly proving his friends right.

Finally the clip that would make him lose came up. It was a deer that was squeaking quietly, which you weren't even aware they could do. You watched on in confusion, tilting your head to the side as it began to tilt it's own head back when the deer's sudden switch from squeak to awful howl/shriek made you jump in your seat.

It was your reaction that made Peter finally crack with a startled laugh rather than the clip itself, which of course made him contest his loss.

"Shit-! That doesn't count! I laughed at her- Not the-"

"Nah, Quill, y'all lost fair and square." Kraglin chuckled.

"But-"

"Kraglin's right. You laughed, so you lose." Drax said, backing Kraglin up.

Peter sighed in defeat. "Lame." He turned back to you. "Best two out of three?"

You rolled your eyes and grinned. "Sure. Why not."

Suddenly the TV screen went dark, causing Peter to throw up his hands and exclaim, "Really!?"

You were just as confused, but almost as soon as it had turned off, the screen turned back on again and out of the corner of your eye you just caught sight of Rocket in the hall through the doorway. It was clear the others hadn't noticed him, which is probably why he felt safe enough throwing you a quick smirk and a wink just before he scampered off.

However, when you turn your head back you see Peter glaring at you.

"Wha- Don't look at me!" you exclaim, holding up your hands, realizing that he was obviously going to accuse you of pranking him again.

Peter's glare morphs into an incredulous grin as he replies, "Really?? You're really going to pull this again and think it's gonna go any better for you than last time?!"

He starts to get up, presumably to lunge at you, when suddenly Kraglin puts his feet up on the coffee table, creating a makeshift barrier and causing Peter to pause his actions to give the former first mate a confused look.

"Now hold on a second there, Pete-" he reaches down beside himself. "You was sitting on the remote."

"What- but I-" Peter sputters, looking at the remote. Meanwhile, you realize you just caught an incredibly lucky break. Peter finally looks at you and mumbles an apology before tossing the remote onto the coffee table.

He wound up losing those two rounds as well and you grinned at his chagrin at having seemingly secured his status with the other two as a "giggly little shit."

After this you were in pretty good spirits, and offered the guys a drink to 'celebrate your victory.'

Ok, so maybe you were rubbing it in just a little.

Regardless, they accepted your offer and you all head to the kitchen, the guys grabbing some glasses while you pulled the whiskey from the fridge.

The rest of the Guardians were already in the kitchen so you offered them to join you, and they accepted.

You all sat around the table sipping whiskey- or in Mantis's case, whiskey mixed with soda- and in Groot's case just soda- and talking about random things.

Kraglin told a story of breaking up a past bar fight; Drax reminisced over a memory of starting a bar fight- and winning; and Mantis, not having a bar fight story, brought up how she saw a cute animal in a book the previous day- only to retrieve said book and show everyone a naked mole rat. This made the rest of you laugh in disbelief, though no one corrected her or called the animal ugly.

All in all, everything was pretty fun and chill. Everyone was chatting and getting along. So far no signs of any drunken bickering, despite the fact that Yondu was discussing an apparently embarrassing story about Peter to Gamora, which made Peter groan and cover his face once he realized trying to get the old man to shut up wasn't going to work. Groot was playing hide and seek with Rocket- using Drax's chair as a hiding spot- to which Rocket put on a show pretending he couldn't see him under there. Kraglin was just laughing at the scene, and Mantis was doing that strange thing she liked to do after a drink, which was going about and feeling the joy off of the others by placing her hand on theirs and "reading" them- or whatever it was she did.

This was nice, you thought- having people around. You could get used to this...

Except that you knew you couldn't. Not really. This was temporary and you knew th-

That thought was ripped from your mind almost as soon as it appeared when a ticklish feeling on the back of your neck drove out all other coherent thought.

"Hey!" you scold through giggles, scrunching your shoulders and twisting in your chair in an attempt to get away from your attacker, but to no avail.

"Just gettin' your attention!" Peter teased. "This is what you get for ignoring the Prank Master!" As he continued tickling at the back and sides of your neck he further teased, "Geeze, is there anywhere you're not ticklish?"

Still giggling, you twist to smack at Peter's hand away and scold him for being an insufferable brat. "What do you even want, you little pest?!" you ask as he continued to torment you, seemingly emboldened by the others' laughter at your reaction.

Before he could answer, Mantis attempted to touch the hand you were using to brace on the table, but you noticed and pulled away with a "Hey! We had a deal- no empath mojo without consent!" before finally managing to twist in a way that allowed you to grab Peter's hand and push it away.

Mantis just giggled an apology and moved on to do her empath thing to someone else, as your own laughter had taken most of the weight out of the scolding. Honestly you would later be grateful for this, as you would have felt bad had you made her sad when you knew she really meant no harm.

Kraglin snorted. "What? Worried she's gonna tell us that you don't actually hate this?" he teased, tweaking your ribs and making you jump with a squeak as he walked by to the pantry.

"Piss off-" you light-heartedly scold with a roll of your eyes. You might have swatted him if it wasn't for the fact that you were still wrestling with Peter to keep his hands to himself.

Now Yondu decided to chime into the teasing. "Aw, is someone's reputation for being a little grumpy ass being threatened?" he took another sip of his whiskey. "Wouldn't that be a shame- not like we don't already know yer a softy."

You shot him a look that was a mix of "What you on about?" and "Piss off" but unfortunately this made you let your guard down just long enough for Peter to break free and attack your stomach- a distraction you were oddly grateful for, considering that even if there was the tiniest chance that it might be true, you sure as hell weren't about to admit to it. That would be a type of vulnerability they couldn't torture out of you if they tried.

Doubling over in your chair with a laugh you manage to grab his hands and ask again, "What do you want?! You annoying shit!" This, again, was ladened with giggles, which again took all the bite out of your words. Just as well, seeing as you weren't actually angry at him- even if he was an annoying little shit.

"I... actually don't remember anymore-" Peter admitted with a grin, which caused the others to laugh and roll their eyes.

Also rolling your eyes you pinched his sides in retaliation, earning a giggly yelp from Peter before you stood up up and stated you were going to the Jacks then, seeing as whatever he had to say obviously hadn't been that important for him to remember.

He only uttered a mock-indignant "Hey!" as you made your escape, and by the time you came back everyone was already on a new topic of conversation, the previous shenanigans completely forgotten.

As you rejoined the group you couldn't help but think back to your previous thoughts. That all this- the comradery and tomfoolery- this was nice.

And you might as well try to enjoy it while it lasted.

[masteraqua]

it's really sad that KH bosses never transform into giant creatures anymore. no one transforms in KH3, they just stay in their first form for the whole boss rush chapter. Where is Ansem's flesh battleship? Where is Marluxia's mantis mech? We were promised chaos! YX had a perfect opportunity to turn into a giant clock monster in DDD, but all he does is change the room. Terranort in BBS? He doesn't even get to put on his armor, let alone turn huge and grow extra limbs. Heartbreaking. But did you notice Nomura's OTHER game doesn't have that problem??? People still transform in FF7. Is it like... budget?

yeah i said something like that back when ff7 remake came out haha

i'm sure budget and scope are relevant factors in terms of execution, particularly in the handheld titles, but i'm also sure that the conceptual choices they made were deliberate.

personally, i like the YX and terranort fights the way they are. human-shaped bosses are appropriate when you're trying to emphasize that person's humanity.

and that's why the giant, monstrous xion fight in days also works; she's been forcibly stripped of her humanity.

i'm sure that's what the mindset was for kh3 as well. the problem is that it feels so incongruous with the way xehanort's story had been told up to that point. as we now know, nomura sees xehanort as a tragic figure grappling with a destiny he was born into. and there was an attempt made at highlighting the humanity in him by setting the battles in a place from xehanort's past.

but that's not the xehanort that the audience knows. our xehanort is the maniac who tried to start a genocidal, universe-destroying war. if you're going to commit to a plot of that kind of scale, then the final boss had damn well better be just as cosmic, just as grandiose. to do otherwise is to misunderstand what kind of story you've been telling.

[spidermanifested]

even in the notes of posts dunking on people misunderstanding the word twink, you will find one million people convinced "twink" can only ever refer to "actual hazbin hotel physique". the slightest hint of muscle mass or internal organs? twink license revoked. and i can only assume this is because the only porn they have ever looked at is shipping fanart for cartoons. which, sure, is a personal preference i would not judge them for IF they were not then going to redefine words from gay porn to be even narrower (literally) in scope....

maybe its because other gay terms like bear/butch/etc are constantly being watered down and reduced to "slightly muscular gay person" so the overton window for this one is in turn getting pushed further down the skinnification axis. regardless i have to say it drives me up the wall. do you guys want psycho mantis to be the only twink on the market or what

[breakfastteatime]

Today's Survivor request is 'bed' for @calsdroid

Days after they first secure Tanalorr, dust slowly settling, the new rhythms of their unsettled lives hitting their harmonies, Cal finds himself on Tanalorr’s ground with absolutely no memory of how he got there. He feels off, exhausted energy flickering among the fumes choking his burning body. He’d been out for a simple climb, scoping out places to locate their first settlement and –

Every step harder than the last.

Every pull up a test of his will.

Every leap taking more and more.

Every echo scooping him out until –

Until he had nothing left to give.

Cal tries to sit up, only for the world to waver before his eyes, solid made liquid. He falls back, blacks out again, and suddenly BD’s there, standing on his chest, telling him not to move, help is coming.

Help? He doesn’t need help. He needs to help others. Tanalorr awaits, and the Hidden Path needs it now more than ever, their options so dwindled there is little hope remaining for them. If Cal doesn’t help bring them here, make Tanalorr actually liveable, they might –

Why is he so cold? He shivers, rolling onto his side, pulling all his limbs close to his chest. He’ll get up in a minute. He will, as soon as he’s warmer and –

–  And now Merrin’s here. Where did she come from? Her worried eyes take him in, her back of her hand pressing to his forehead. “You are burning up,” she says. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

Because he’s not sick. He isn’t. He’s just… he’s so incredibly… he can’t possibly…

She wraps her arms around him and levers him off the ground, pulling him into a hug. “You have burned yourself away to nearly nothing.” She sighs, pressing her lips to his hair. “What would Cere say?”

A note chimes in the Force, a melodic strum of a hallikset string.

Cal closes his eyes as Merrin’s magick coils around him, nearly dulling the echoes of all her travels clinging to her clothing. Vast oceans, cities hidden in the clouds, underground hives. He doesn’t open his eyes again until he feels a bed beneath him, his many layers peeled away, a damp cloth resting over his forehead and eyes.

“We’ve got you,” Greez says.

BD tells him to go back to sleep.

No, he was busy, he was –

“Sick, Cal. You’ve fought and worked your way into sickness,” Greez tells him. “You’re burning up. We need you well again. Please, just stay put and get some rest. Before you really do burn out for good. I can’t lose you too.”

He can’t stop now. He’s the last of his kind now that Cere is… now that Cere’s… Her name escapes him, his control shattered.

A hand brushes over his cheek, a thumb wiping away the tears. “I know,” Greez says. “I know. But even she’d tell you enough is enough, and you know it. You don’t need to keep running now.”

He drifts into memories and dreams, the Mantis crew, both crews, united and laughing. The twins inhaling everything Greez cooks, Bravo at the controls looping them through skies made of stars, Merrin and Gabs plotting all kinds of schemes, BD racing to record everyone, and Cere sat beside Cal, smiling as she watches.

“See?” she tells him, her hand so warm against his knee. “You’re not alone.”

“Cal?”

Merrin is suddenly ahead of him, her hand on his shoulder. Cal blinks, and it’s only Greez, BD and Kata sat aboard the ship. Tears fill his eyes. She was here. They were all here. And now –

Now, he’s still not alone. Not anymore. He never was, not really.

BD hurries over, hops on his shoulder, tells him he was sleepwalking, it’s time to go back to bed, get better, get well, so he can help build up Tanalorr.

Cal nods. “I’m going back to bed,” he announces.

“You’ll feel better in the morning.” Kata’s voice is quiet, nervous, and hopeful.

“Yeah,” Cal says. “I will.”

[risingshine]

...been thinking too much about cyberpunk! AU with @piltover-sharpshooter: two friends, born in wealth and always rivals - one with cyberware and one with biotech, until in the end Chi Ki became the first person to ever pin down a cyberpsycho.

Implant Ideas Below:

Chi Ki's Bioware includes

'Alligator Skin' implant - keratin subdermal scales like on an alligator that can stop bullets and blades and spikes.

Due to her subdermal scales, she had 4 bioports installed to be able to intake and draw from her internals when needed.

Myostatin supression for increased muscle mass and density, leading to 4x the number of muscle fibres

Macrosupplements and Growth treatments to increase her body size to properly support the muscle growth

'Gorilla Bones' implant and supplementation to make bones thicker, denser and more mineralized, and form extra cartilage for shock absorption

Bone grafts to ribcage to form interlocking plates, covered in cartiladge, to protect her inner organs

'Predator Eyes' - Eyes implants built like eagle's eyes, as well as lupis tatedum for darkvision

Nerve reinforcements, supplements and training to increase reaction time and nerve strength - she can't fully process situations, because that takes time, but she can block bullets and punch people running sandavistans.

"Elephant Heart" Transplant of a massive heart to pump enough blood to support the rest of the system, as well as having an additional ventricle and artierial chamber as a backup

"Blue Blood" infusions that transform blood to include horseshoe crab antibodies that give extra resistance to poisons, toxins and illnesses (she is anti-cop, dw)

Drug treatments to increase blood cell count, increasing oxygenation of blood, iillness resistance and coagulatoin/scarring time, reducing blood loss.

As for Cait's Cyberware, basically every combat cyberware under the sun.

Titanium bones, reinforced piston joints, synthetic muscle implants, mantis blades + gorilla arms, subdermal armor, sandavistan, shock absorbers, blood pumps, Kiroshi optics (with scanner, scope, nightvision, antismoke/dazzle and lie detector), military grade netrunning gear, ballistic and smart proccessors, anti-smoke nasal implants, antidote implants, nanosurgeons, etc.

...and Midnight Lady augments.

the only added idea was microboosters in her calves (basically mini jumpjets) for increased run speed and double-jumping.

[izscha]

Current scoreboard on who has what Shen Gong Wu in Metallic Figment (as of Chapter 5)

Will be making scoreboard updates as the story progresses for your own reference (as well as my own lol)

[Spoilers beneath the cut]

Xiaolin monks:

Ants in the Pants

Arrow Sparrow

Big Bang Meteorang

Black Beetle

Blade of the Nebula

Cannon Blaster

Cat's Eye Draco*

Changing Chopsticks

Crest of the Condor*

Crouching Cougar

Crystal Glasses

Denshi Bunny

Eagle Scope

Emperor Scorpion

Eye of Dashi

Falcon's Eye

Fancy Feet

Fist of Tebigong

Fountain of Hui

Gills of Hamachi

Glove of Jisaku

Golden Finger

Golden Tiger Claws

Helmet of Jong

Jetbootsu

Ju-Ju Flytrap

Kaijin Charm*

Lasso Boa Boa

Longhorn Taurus*

Longi Kite

Lotus Twister

Lunar Locket

Manchurian Musca

Mantis Flip Coin

Mikado Arm

Monarch Wings

Monsoon Sandals

Moonstone Locust

Mosaic Scale

Orb of Tornami

Rio Reverso

Sapphire Dragon

Serpent's Tail

Shadow Slicer

Shadow of Fear

Shard of Lightning

Shen-Ga-Roo

Shimo Staff

Shroud of Shadows

Silk Spitter

Star Hanabi

Sun Chi Lantern

Sweet Baby Among Us

Sword of the Storm

Tangle Web Comb

Thorn of Thunderbolt

Third-Arm Sash

Tongue of Saiping

Tunnel Armadillo

Two-Ton Tunic

Woozy Shooter

WuShan Geyser

Wushu Helmet

Ying Yo-Yo

Zing Zom-Bone

Hannibal:

Moby Morpher

Mind Reader Conch

Heart of Jong

Ring of the Nine Dragons

Ruby of Ramses

Jack (and Wuya):

Monkey Staff

Kuzusu Atom

Reversing Mirror

Silver Manta Ray

Sphere of Yun

Yang Yo-Yo

[sealofarchives]

Can you create a headcanon for ROTTMNT’s Raph who is secretly in love with a female reader? She is an antisocial, hot-headed, and fearless woman who excels in combat and prefers to solve her problems with her fists. She embodies the typical ‘tough girl’ stereotype, and she has no idea that Raph has feelings for her

Headcanon: GN!Reader who fights like an absolute beast. And unaware of Raph's crush on them.

(Requested prompt but can be read with she/her pronouns.)

Warnings: A brief vomit mention

A/N: Heavily recommended to have “Crash Addiction from Yakuza 0” playing as background music for this (because this is what I thought of after seeing this request in my inbox lol)

You stood there with wide eyes at an alligator snapping turtle mutant. Who shyly asked if you needed some extra help carrying a few packages. While the bad guy in the background struggles carrying his injured lackeys to safety. (Heavily regretting picking a fight with you, near a place now scattered with pieces of broken motorcycles by the empty alleyway.)

You still glared at the turtle wearing a red bandana but, didn't want to waste more time for another fight.

"Just don't drop the merch! I'm on a tight schedule trying to deliver these figurines on time!"

As you said that, Raph almost dropped it. Causing you to let out a sigh while the turtle carefully stacked the small pile of fragile boxes in his arms.

Ever since that day, you became aware of him and his family.

Donnie very much keeps his distance. Especially after collecting some data of your past fights. The one that almost made him throw up was, a thief lucky to survive stab wounds above the stomach area. From you, utilizing a traffic cone connector snapped in half as a temporary dual-wield weapon.

No chuckling response was enough for Leo to know that. He needed to cool it with some jokes at your direction. Its one of the few times he'll be serious because he got tired of Raph being lovesick around you.

Mikey made some decent progress being your friend but, still carefully waits for the right timing to talk to you. Usually when you have a decent day or during laidback movie nights.

If you tag along during any of the night patrols, Raph is usually the one that patches you up.

- You sometimes do a double take because, at least one of the bandages near your wrist will be tied into a ribbon. (Mostly noticing it until you get back home)

The boy is very eager when you teach him some new fighting moves. However, it always devolves into absurd antics that spiral out of control.

- One of the few times, you had to swallow your pride and call Leo for help. Because the snapping turtle thought it would be a cool idea to impress you by lifting a nearby outdoor electric panel box. As a new object to throw at opponents. Nope, he passed out within 3 minutes.

"I mean that's not the first time he passed out.

"Like, he tried to lift a school bus that guarded a pet cat that's part praying mantis."

"At least two times before we parked the bus back in its place."

"..."

"A lot of thieves rarely scope out that place. Now that the cat is trained to guard Repo Mantis' junkyard."

"???"

Any accidental physical contact between you two will make that red bandana turn pink.

- You used to reply with an angry 'watch it!!!' but, with how many times he had a sincere sorry paired with the most gentle toothy smile. Its just a hum, too tired to get mad at him for that.

Bonus:

The mini scuffle he had with himself (namely mind raph and his angry counterpart) was enough for you to show some concern. Before you could ask if he was okay, the blurted words of a confession to his new feelings to you. Finally dented a crack to your tough persona attitude. Which immediately dropped your guard with you blushing at him. The big guy snapped out of it as both of you awkwardly stood there.

"Uhhh, how much did you hear?"

"A bit of everything but..."

"Your family will absolutely kill me if I just spat and toss away your feelings in the trash."

"And I have no intentions of doing so because..."

"I wish there were more guys who acted like you."

"Because I can finally take it easy and relax thanks to your kind nature..."

You gave a kiss on his forehead causing him to almost melt from the touch.

Two of the three brothers breathed a sigh of relief while restraining an annoyed Mikey who whispered.

("I still think a matchmaking date would have easily solved 'Raph having a crush on (Y/N)' situation...")

You shook your head but, still amused at the his brothers. Their company also grew on you. Brightening boring delivery days to eagerly visiting the graffiti filled lair.

[typingatlightspeed]

Metal Gear/TF2 Crossover - cp_shadow_moses_event Chapter 9

It's time for Wolf to play her part now that Mantis is dead and Snake and Meryl have passed through the caves. RED Sniper watches her work and has a chat with her about their different methods. Meanwhile BLU team helps Snake cut down on the backtracking, at the expense of a nice little prize BLU Sniper thought he'd get to take home with him.

Ao3 Link!

And some very gentle DemoSniper because I can't NOT, yanno? The ships are in here, you just gotta squint a lil sometimes. :3

---------

"Wolf, do you read me?"

Wolf tugged the radio from her pocket and held the call button. "I read you, Liquid."

"Mantis is dead. Snake should be through the caves soon. You know what to do."

"Shit," Wolf hissed. "Yes, Boss. I'm on it. Over and out." She tucked the radio away and got in position, lowering herself to her belly on the second floor catwalk of the southern communications tower. She checked her scope, looking down the long, chilly expanse of the proverbial shooting gallery that was the canyon between the underground caves and the tower proper. There was next to no cover, no terrain features, just a few stray crenelations in the walls on either side of the long, open approach. They could be tucked into to hide, but the chance of reaching those spots was next to zero with a skilled marksman watching the canyon. They would be sitting ducks, just as planned.

Wolf watched quietly as Snake and the rebel soldier turned useful tool, Meryl, emerged from the caves. Meryl showed him the way around the mines planted at the entrance, and the whole while, Wolf watched, her laser sight turned off. She didn't need it, really. A good sniper rarely used something so visible.

But a good soldier understood that there were times that being seen could be useful. And how potent psychological warfare could be.

Wolf waited until Meryl had blundered into the killbox to flick her laser on and trace the woman's body. When she saw Snake make to dart out of cover, she took the shot.

Once to the leg. Once in the other leg. Once in the arm. Meryl lay bleeding in agony, painting the hard-packed snow red as she rasped out pleas to Snake. The man wisely stayed in cover. Wolf flicked her laser off and watched as they talked, the exchange ending with Snake running out the way he'd come. She smirked and tugged her radio free once again. "He's gone back. Come collect her."

"Roger," came Liquid's voice over the line. "Good work, Wolf."

"Over and out."

*

111.11. Snake dialed in the signal and hailed, hoping against hope that anyone would pick up.

"Scout here," came the nasal voice on the other end, and Snake felt a small pang of relief wash over him.

"Scout, it's Snake."

"Oh, hey Snake! Whatchu need, brother?"

"I need a sniper rifle. It's urgent. Someone I've been working with's been shot, and Sniper Wolf has her pinned down in a canyon. I can't get her to safety, and I can't get to Wolf without a long-range weapon. Have you seen anything around in either of the buildings you've taken?"

"Sniper rifle?" A voice came muffled from somewhere near Scout, and Snake could tell one of the other mercenaries was explaining something to him. "Yeah? No kiddin'? Okay, sure. Hey, Snake? We gotchu, man, no problem. Meet us in the warhead storage an' we'll hook you up. You might have to fight an Australian for it, though."

"What?"

"See you then!" Scout closed the channel. Snake shook his head and kept moving.

*

Wolf sat up and leaned back against the exterior wall of the communications tower, watching as Meryl lay twitching and bleeding on the ground, her whimpers of pain too far away to hear.

"Gotta say," came a voice beside her, from beside catwalk stairs. RED Sniper leaned against the railing, looking out over the canyon. "It's a good strategy. Usin' the sheila for bait." He chuckled. "Yet when 'e was runnin' back out the door you 'ad line of sight, clear as day. Didn't even try to take a shot at 'im. Your skills, you'd've painted that door with 'is brains 'fore the lock recognized 'is card key." He turned to look at her. "Almost like you ain't tryin' to kill 'im at all."

Wolf's eyes rolled to him slowly, just barely wider than usual. "Surprised you clocked it."

Sniper shrugged a single shoulder and unhooked a thermos from his belt. He unscrewed the cup and popped the lid, pouring himself some hot coffee. He held the cup out to her, offering her first dibs, but Wolf waved him off.

"I don't mix stimulants and depressants."

"So you are doped. What is it, then?"

"Diazapam."

"Benzos?" Sniper replied, a bit surprised something that potent was in the woman's system. "Why're you on downers, if you don't mind me gettin' nosy?"

"Steadies my aim," Wolf replied simply. "Makes my hands stop shaking. Those little involuntary twitches, you know."

Sniper hummed in appreciation of that, nodding along with the explanation. "Every sniper really does have their own mitigation rituals, don't they?"

"Is caffeine yours?" Wolf asked, gesturing to the coffee.

Sniper took a long sip. "Nah, yeh. Me 'ands're pretty steady. But it's me reflexes I need to keep sharp. I can deal with the boredom, the idleness, but not movin' for a span gets me slow, creaky. If I'm gonna time a shot right without a spotter—and I never work with a spotter—I gotta stay awake, alert, and tight as a bloody bowstring. Plays hell on me back," he chuckled.

"Drinking that much coffee, I'd be surprised if you haven't been caught on a mission before, stopping to get rid of that much liquid in your body," Wolf joked.

Another half-shrug. "Always keep a jar or two 'andy," Sniper explained. "Works in a pinch. And if you do somehow get made, havin' a glass jar fulla urine thrown at and shatterin' all over you tends to dissuade a hoon from givin' chase."

Wolf snorted at that, ridiculous as it was. In the distance, a pair of genome soldiers were hefting Meryl up and carrying her off. "I think Saladin would have loved that kind of practicality."

*

Snake barely registered the trek back to the warhead storage, running on purpose and urgency as his blood pounded in his ears. He tapped his foot impatiently as the elevator brought him up to ground level, and when the door opened, BLU team was there to greet him, posted up in various spots across the hangar and gearing up for their next push.

"Snake, there you are!" Scout called, hopping from atop a missile rack to the catwalk before him.

"You said you had a rifle?" Snake asked, skipping the pleasantries.

"Yeah, we snooped around the rest a' the tank buildin' while you were fightin' that tank in the snow. That was wicked, by the way, holy shit. Anyway, apparently the bottom floor had a bunch 'a storage rooms, a few with some pretty high level security."

"Scout."

"So, I mean, we had to crack that, right?"

"You mean I cracked it," Spy chimed in with annoyance.

"Yeah, Spy cracked it, whatever. Anyway, one of 'em had some freakin' laser wire trap set up an' stuff so you know whatever was back there was cherry, right?" "Scout."

"So we ended up usin' Spy's smokes to make it so we could see the lasers, an' I snuck around 'em what with bein' the most agile guy on the team an' all. Ain't nobody more flexible than me!"

"Private, quit hitting on the man and get to the point!" Soldier barked, making Scout startle into a rigid posture.

"Man, I ain't hittin' on 'im what the hell—"

"Then quit bragging about your flexibility!" Soldier replied, making a soft wave of snickers erupt among the rest of the team.

Scout pouted, slouching forward, put-out. "Man."

"Scout, do you have a rifle?" Snake asked again.

"Yeah, yeah, we got a PSG-1 outta storage. Snipes' got it," Scout huffed, backing away to go sulk as Snake turned his attention on Sniper, who was holding the gun and looking sullen, clearly unwilling to part with it.

"Been wantin' one of these beauts for a while," Sniper mused, looking down at the gun in his hands. With a sigh, he brought it to Snake and held it out for him. "If you end up not needin' 'er once you're done with your mission, I wouldn't mind takin' 'er off your 'ands," he added, a bit half-heartedly.

Snake cracked a smile at that. "Sure thing, Sniper," he assured him, slinging the rifle across his back then clapping him on the shoulder. "Thanks."

"Nah, yeh. Go save your mate, yeh?" Sniper replied, waving him off, a frown settling on his face as Snake hustled to the elevator and the doors closed.

Demoman threw an arm around Sniper's shoulders, tugging him in close. "Ye did a good thing, Mickey."

[acim-ed-ortsac]

Time on the Oro Jackson: 3

You deadpanned when, at the age of 13, you held the terrible duo by the back of their shirts after killing a large praying mantis that attempted to maul the younger ones. The two nine-year-olds had sheepish smiles, Shanks less sincere while Buggy was sweating, as you held them up. “Haha,” Shanks laughed awkwardly. “Great weather we’re having.”

Your lips tugged to a frown while your eyes narrowed at the ginger, “What were you thinking!?”

“Shanks made me! I even told him it was a bad idea!” Buggy defended himself while he waved his hands around.

“You could’ve stopped him, being the other one with a brain cell.” You hissed before turning around and walking back to the crew with the two youngest in tow. “You’re not five, you at least have the common sense to not go in there WITHOUT an adult!”

“But that’s boring!” Shanks whined. “We’re pirates! We’re not scared of anything!”

“You screams of terror said otherwise, Red.”

When you dragged them back, the crew laughed at your disgruntled expression while you hauled them two back on the beach shore. Rayleigh watched amused from his chair while Roger laughed.

“What trouble did they get into now?” The first mate asked, taking a sip of alcohol.

You threw the two kids at Scope, who caught them with ease, before glaring at your mentor. “They had the bright idea to fight a mantis that was thrice their size.”

The bespectacled blonde chuckled before he nudged his captain’s arm, who was on a chair. “See, they get it from you, captain.”

“And is that a bad thing?” Roger asked with his iconic jolly smile on his lips behind his bushy mustache.

“Would be if they keep trying to get themselves killed.” You grumbled while you walked past them.

*_*

Rayleigh knew that Mihawk was different than the typical teen boy, and he meant this in a non-discriminatory way.

It was evident from not only his bounty at a young age, (a damn 70,000,000 belli bounty with the epithet of ‘Hawkeye Demon’), which made the man rage and almost burn down a marine base if he didn’t hold his common sense, but also the way the kid held himself. Mature, too mature for his age. He didn’t have that naive light in his unique eyes but rather a guarded tensity in them. Mihawk’s posture was straight and confident as if he knew that he would win against that bounty hunter from before. And his skill…

Rayleigh knew that the kid would surpass him in the future, with just enough training, he’d have people fearing him and his sword. It was akin to destiny that the young hawk was sure to achieve greatness, as if the heavens had favored the child and decided a path—a course that would bring the child to majesty.

But right now… Rayleigh noticed that the young teen wasn’t beside him, glancing back to see Mihawk staring at a clothing store. Specifically, a black dress for teen girls.

Rayleigh raised a brow before he walked towards his student, “Found something you like?”

Mihawk tilted his head before nodding. An amused smile made its way to the older man’s lips, curious. Usually, the young swordsman would accept anything Rayleigh would buy him, a few months ago it was an almanac of swords and blades that he frequently shared with their other two apprentices and last year was a new sword. But this, this was the very few times that he would ask for something.

Rayleigh looked at the dress his student was eyeing; it was a knee-length dress with the top part more sturdy with flower-designed laces and a belt around it while the skirt poofed out a bit. It seemed to be Mihawk’s style, taking to the more gothic taste.

“Well come on,” Rayleigh pushed the door to the store with the young hawk at his trail. The store owner, a middle-aged woman with incoming wrinkles, greeted the two of them before the kid started picking out the ones he liked. And if Rayleigh didn’t know that Mihawk was an orphan, he would've thought that he was the son of a duke or royalty at least. The kid sure loved his dress shirts and pants. The same goes for his dresses.

By the end of it, Rayleigh was holding two bags of clothing and a very happy Mihawk.

When they got back to the ship, Rayleigh was glad that the crew didn’t question too much Mihawk’s choice of clothing that they brought. They supported him in his comfort and preference. But if the man really thought about it, the kid would’ve been indifferent to their opinions. Another thing that stood out about the boy was that he knew what he wanted.

The first time Mihawk wore the dress, the same dress as the lacy top, Rayleigh couldn’t help but think it fitted the boy. The kid would grow up to be a heartthrob, even if he wasn’t actively seeking said hearts. And Rayleigh wasn’t the only one with that sentiment.

The blush on Shanks's face and the open stare of Buggy were enough to tell, that these two boys' crushes were evident to the crew but Mihawk himself. 

*_*

Shanks, at the age of ten, believes that Mihawk is not human.

Because no human can be this pretty.

When he first gazed upon those eyes of rich color, his first thought as a young six-year-old was ‘Pretty eyes.’ Because those eyes were like the pretty jewels that they would occasionally find on islands.

Another thing was that Mihawk was cool! He knows how to use a sword and he uses it so well! Shanks wants to become at his level, wants to become a swordsman that Mihawk can look at and never turn away. He wants those eyes to shine at him, to see him smile at him, his attention on him and only him!

Sadly, Buggy also wants Mihawk's attention, but not on Shanks’s watch!

Can also be found in AO3 < Masterlist

[bajablastdex]

Baja BlastDex No. 016: Lurantis

I’ve been very excited to show this one off!! Her name is Cronenberg, and we met a very, very long time ago! She was one of the first shinies I’d ever caught, in Alola during an SOS Chain all the way back in 2016! This makes her nearly a decade old!

I’ve always found shiny Lurantis to be one of my favourites, and one of the ones that got me into researching Shiny Pokemon. As a species, Fomantis and Lurantis seem to be doing the opposite sort of camouflage that a typical orchid mantis uses. Instead of a bug attempting to look like a flower to evade predation, Lurantis is a plant who masquerades as a bug. This facade is even stronger in the Pokemon’s shiny colouration, appearing even more mantis-like with its bright greens! This leads me to believe that the shiny colouration is actually a survival adaptation, and we may very well see that become the dominant colouration for the species in the future!

Now, Kukui’s Pokedex implies that Lurantis does this as a form of self-protection as well, but that doesn’t entirely make sense to me. Both Bug and Grass Pokemon share many of the same weaknesses. And while it’s true that Grass has more weaknesses than Bug, making it desirable to appear as a Bug type so that it may deter Poison, Bug, and Ice types from attacking it, I simply don’t believe that to be the full scope of its disguise.

When looking at the origin of its name, we find that Lurantis is a combination of “Lure” and “Mantis,” and I believe that is true to its nature. There is one weakness that Bug types have, which Grass types are supereffective against. Rock types! I believe Lurantis may be masquerading as a Bug to lure out Rock types as prey. This is supported by its shiny colouration, as a Lurantis that looks even more like a bug is sure to draw in more prey, thus having an easier time surviving. It’s so fun to think that we may be in the very middle of observing the evolution of its species!