#or at least a plan for one

[olympeline]

Now my Hetalia passion has flared up again to early 2010s levels I’m feeling the itch to get back into writing fanfiction…which I really shouldn’t because I’m so bad at finishing things unless they’re one-shots 😂

EITHER WAY I’ve got an idea for a FrUK fic where Arthur’s magic gets so fed up with his centuries of endless tsundere posturing that it rebels against him and starts showering Francis with embarrassing affection. Because magically powerful but inept wizard Arthur is always fun and “character A is in denial about their love for character B, but it comes out through their magic anyway” is a trope I LOVE

It starts small. Arthur tries to hand Francis a pen and it poofs into a red rose when it touches Francis’s fingers. Arthur is flustered but manages to brush it off (Arthur’s Death By Mortification level: 5%)

After a brief scuffle over who gets the last chair with padding (“HAHA SUCK IT, ASSTOWN FRENCHY!!” - the former nation of Prussia) Francis tears his favorite silk shirt. He bemoans it to Arthur…only to find it’s suddenly fixed itself. Arthur denies all responsibility and says France just made a mistake as usual. France is adamant he didn’t (Arthur’s DBM level: 15%)

Francis, already one of the world’s prime gourmets, invites the G7 to dinner and his cooking jumps up another notch to stratosphere levels after Arthur takes his first bite. Everyone notices (Arthur’s DBM level: 30%)

Whenever Arthur visits France the country is blessed by mild winters, springs that would stun a poet, glorious summers, and radiant autumns. Meteorologists are baffled but no one is complaining! Except Arthur. The UK meanwhile suffers constant dark, glowering skies and sulky storms (Arthur’s DBM level: 50%)

Francis and Arthur stroll through the French countryside, Francis points out a historical excavation sight, and oh look what do you know: they just happen to pull out some ancient treasure that will be a crown jewel of the Lourve. Francis ecstatic (perhaps it was even something he lost centuries ago). Arthur quickly excuses himself and runs home (Arthur’s DBM level: 70%)

Pre-meeting, Arthur overhears Francis sighing that the Italy brothers are a shoe-in to take the world prize for best cheese this year (because that’s a real contest that France and Italy have an annual slap fight over) since the French cheese makers have had a bad year. Only oh no they actually haven’t! Seems there was a late entry that blew the judges socks off and gets France another gold. Francis is ecstatic again…and getting a little suspicious by this point. Arthur hides in a closet and wishes nations could know the sweet release of death (Arthur’s DBM level: 85%)

Francis brings up the Olympics at a World Conference and Romano, still sore over the cheese, loudly remarks that of course France will top the medal board with England “helping” so much with his “fucking Harry Potter wizard BS.” Suddenly all eyes on Arthur, France included. Kill him. Kill him now (Arthur’s DBM level: about 5 million)

Arthur when he gets home: STOP FUCKING DOING THESE THINGS FUCK YOU

Arthur’s magic: Nah fuck you, man *Flips him off twice and gives Paris another tourism boost*

[deadpoolsmom]

as far as one piece antagonists go Crocodile truly gets absolutely scooby-doo’d at unmatched levels

He immediately falls for a phone scam and from basically little garden to rainbase he doesn’t even know the strawhats are alive (and clowning towards him at incredible speed). As soon as he does, they’re in his house tearing at his walls and bringing marines into his villain lair.

He uses a literal floor trap door over a gator pit to catch them, gets phone scammed again, full scooby-doo chase scenes after Chopper through the streets while still missing him, and suddenly his prisoners have escaped his impossible cage, and his giant bananagators are dead. and Nico Robin saw it all happen.

He then spends rest of the arc complaining about those meddling kids and their dog “strawhat pirates and their weird pet” and at no point does he even know how many strawhats there are.

Like yeah he keeps having plans on top of plans to stop everything Vivi can do but also she keeps coming up with a new thing to do (Tom and Jerry ass dynamic).

Part of it is that he’s underestimating them and keeps grandstanding villain monologuing but also teens keep killing hundreds of his grand line bounty hunters and he straight up does not know what is happening.

Cause he IS trying to kill them he’s sending top assassins after them and ripping out luffy’s organs, the whole time he’s yelling HOW ARE YOU ALIVE?? DIE. as whack-a-mole Luffy keeps inventing new ways to hit him.

[beastwhimsy]

some pieces I've done for my exhibition! do not repost or reupload without my permission. image descriptions in alt text

[xxplastic-cubexx]

brain please wake up and draw

bonus :

[just-aro]

*sigh*

I'm seeing variations of this meme around again, so to today's (un)lucky 10000:

the "inside you there are two wolves" meme is racist. full stop. it was invented by a Christian pastor in the late 70s and attributed to the Cherokee nation, despite being completely made up. every native american / indigenous page I've ever followed denounces it as made up and racist, using their imagery to sound mystical and wise while ignoring the people themselves.

please consider using another format. try to use your guilt productively: I'm not calling you out, this is aimed at educating. You can't erase not knowing in the past, but you can elect to 1) not reblog these in the future, 2) delete any that are easy to delete, 3) help to spread education by following native people's accounts and news so that you hear this from them, not me.

[mhaikkun]

green is the enemy!!!!!!!!!! 🍊🍌

[loves2spwge]

they just want to be one...

commissions @jolyonvane did for me where i asked if he could please please please make stan look as desperate and exhausted as he usually does but is being kept together by all his love for his sbf kyle

[dizzybizz]

KAEYA BIRTHDAY ??? ?? i love you mr alberich sir i love you oh so so so much.

uh dialogue for this one but more legible under the cut (and a messy ragbros page)

Klee: Kaeya! Come down here! Kaeya: Oh? heh. What is it, Spark Knight?

Klee: Happy Birthday! It is today? Right? I even double-checked with Albedo and everything but I don't know... Klee: It's a Calla Lily! You like those, right? Kaeya: I certainly do! Thank y- Klee: Oh. Klee: OK OK OK- Kaeya: Hm? Klee: Kaeya you have to promise to not tell Master Jean about this one! Kaeya: You can count on me to keep my lips sealed.

Klee: OK! Close your eyes- eye- and hold out your hands! Kaeya: Mhm! Klee: OK! You can open them! TA-DA~!

Klee: I made a bomb for you! It even has an eyepatch! He can look after you when I'm somewhere else. Take good care of him! Oh yeah- He explodes if you- Kaeya?

Kaeya: Thank you Klee! Thank you very much! Klee: You're VERY welcome Kaeya!

a lil ragbros too.... kaeya and his red siblings amirite (bursts into tears).. also i am so obsessed with chibi diluc saying "bring em in..."

[furious-blueberry0]

I may or may not absolutely love to draw her, she is just so, so, so drawable, it’s fun

[starmocha]

Love and Deepspace + Tumblr Text Post ↳ Sylus: No Defense Zone

[ghostlysoaps]

A Minor Annoyance

They’re back at base again and Ghost has been holed up in his office for the majority of the week in an attempt to get back on track with his ever-increasing backlog of paperwork. The knock on his door is therefore welcome, though surprising. He sits up straighter, wincing when several joints pop in protest, calling for them to come in.

Gaz leans himself against the doorframe. He, too, looks exhausted. Exhausted and irritated.

“I need your help wrangling Soap,” he says without preamble or an arduous attempt at small talk.

Ghost blinks at him.

“What?”

“He’s a stubborn bastard who won’t listen to reason,” Gaz shrugs. “And if it comes down to knocking him out in order to get him to rest, I’d rather have help carrying his leaden arse back to his room.”

Ghost blames sleep deprivation for the way he snorts.

“Alright,” he acquiesces, following behind the sergeant with amused wariness dogging his steps.

-

They find Soap outside surrounded by the scent of petrichor and bleary-eyed recruits. A gust of wind weaves around them, its chilling bite unmistakable where it tugs upon their hair and clothes, rustling through the pine-ridden area like an unexpected whisper. Ghost waits for Soap to send the group out on the track before he approaches, brow furrowed in response to the thickness layered over his voice. He'd sounded as if he spoke from deep in his throat, and with an air of a man pretending as if it didn’t pain him to do so. As he draws closer, Ghost allows the gravel beneath his feet to shift deliberately.

Soap jerks, swings his head around when Ghost comes to stand at his side, looking up at him with bloodshot eyes. The tip of his nose is red too, his cheeks a tad puffy, though he carries himself admirably regardless. Straight-backed and refusing to huddle into the oversized jacket he's wearing.

"Lt.? What're y'doing ‘ere?”

“I'm relieving you of your duties. Garrick can take it from here,” he replies, throwing Gaz a look that is met with surreptitious thumbs-up. He'll ask Price to look into leave for him. Soap's not the only one itching to work himself into an early grave by the looks of it.

It must be a cold day in hell, he muses, if I'm the one with the healthiest work-life balance at the moment.

“What?! Get tae and dinnae talk pish! I'm fine. I can work, Sir, I dinnae need–”

“That was an order, Sergeant. You can either leave on your own two feet or slung over my shoulder. Choice is yours.”

Soap's eyes narrow, his shoulders drawing up defensively, lips pulled back in a sneer. “You wouldn't dare.”

Which is about the worst thing he could've possibly said.

All at once Simon is twelve years old again with a defiant Tommy glaring daggers at him from across the stained rug, those fateful words a hiss through clenched teeth. Even the keen knowledge of their mother’s impending disappointment, how she'd give him a hushed dressing down in the aftermath of their scuffle, hadn't curbed his need to lunge for him. It's like the flip of a switch. Three simple words and suddenly Ghost is vibrating with the desire to prove Soap wrong. Some previously dormant code ingrained deep in his DNA flaring to life with all the speed of an oxygen fire.

Those memories carry him forward and the sudden shift in Johnny’s expression, the moment he realises he’s sealed his fate proper, sends a thrill skittering down his spine.

“Wait, Ghost, I–” is about as far as he comes before the words change into an unintelligible blend of Scottish nonsense, voice strained from having his diaphragm compressed. “Put me doon ye clarty bastard! Gaz!”

“Dream come true for you, huh?” Gaz says with a jaunty wave at their retreating backs, mirth etched into the crinkled lines around his eyes.

“I'll fuckin’ kill ye, ye clipe wopper! Lemme doon so ah can wring ‘is bleedin’ neck!” Soap barks, squirming in Ghost's grasp like a recalcitrant eel. It's a blessing that Soap's already running on fumes since, true to his callsign, it's damn near impossible to keep him securely slung over his shoulder.

By his third attempt to claw Ghost's back to shreds, Ghost sighs and pats him firmly on the rump. Soap instantly stills. Flushed to high-heavens if Ghost were to hazard a guess – not that he can see him from this angle. “Settle down, Sergeant, and I might be convinced to let you walk on your own.”

“Hate you,” Johnny wheezes.

Ghost grunts and maneuvers the door open, settling Johnny back on his feet again when it swings shut with a resounding thud. He steadies him when he wobbles on his feet and Johnny lets him with little fuss. Resigned to his fate he shuffles along after Ghost, who detours briefly to score each of them a cuppa. He ladles honey into Johnny’s mug and presses it into his freezing hands. Gets a muttered, unenthusiastic and intentionally mocking “cheers,” for it.

“You're a right cunt when you're sick.”

“Yer a right cunt all o’ the time,” Soap fires back. He's glaring mutinously into his least preferred beverage, cradled close to his chest while he watches Ghost tidy up after them. “Jus’ hate bein’ sick ‘s all. Feel proper boggin’ no matter how many times ah shower an’ my nose is both runny and stuffed as if th’ physics of tha is s'pose to make sense. Could'a powered through it.”

“That's how you end up forcefully strapped to a bed in medical suffering from pneumonia and severe dehydration.”

Johnny pauses. A small smile graces his face and Ghost hastily turns back to wiping down the counters to keep himself from being blinded.

One shouldn't stare directly into the sun after all.

“Speakin’ from experience, sir?”

Ghost doesn't answer, as if that isn't a reply in-and-of-itself, merely nudges Johnny back into moving. He gets him all the way to his door before Soap's brow creases in confusion. His mouth opens, closes, opens again while Ghost trudges inside with little fanfare, door left gaping in silent invitation. Johnny seizes it with both hands after dithering at his threshold a second longer.

He examines the impersonal space with keen interest, slurping obnoxiously at his tea as if to detract from how his hands flutter over scuffed paint and barren walls, his gaze catching over the miniscule signs someone is living there at all.

“Why'ahm I ‘ere, Ghost?” Soap asks when he's done, pinning him in place with the intensity of his stare. It's the same focus he dedicates to a particularly difficult math equation or sketching up blueprints with the precision of a surgeon's scalpel. It's a heady feeling to be on the receiving end of it. Heady and terrifying.

“Figured you'd appreciate the en-suite,” Ghost says, violently stamping down on the truth until it comes out in a statement easier to digest. “And someone needs to make sure you stay in place. Bloody flight risk that you are.”

You'd look good in my clothes, in my bed, as a permanent fixture here. This is as much for me as it is for you. A taste of what I can't have.

He hopes Soap doesn't read between the lines this time – always too perceptive for Ghost's questionable sanity.

“An’ where d'ye plan on sleeping?” Johnny smiles, a mote amused and as sweet as the honey lingering on his lips.

“Floor. Or Gaz's room if he doesn't delete those pictures he took.”

Johnny’s eyes go dark as sin.

“Oh, that'll be th’ least of his worries.”

“Sleep, MacTavish. You can come up with your convoluted revenge plot later.”

“Yes sir.” He gives a lazy salute and flops down on Ghost's bed with a grunt – boots and all, the absolute heathen. Ghost watches him rearrange himself into a position more befitting a person who's suffered a recent spinal fracture when Johnny peers up at him again from under thick lashes. “Dinnae think you're exempt from those, Lt. Ah know where ye live now.”

Ghost sighs and tosses the hoodie folded over his chair at Johnny’s face, taking great pleasure in closing the bathroom door in the face of Johnny's indignant name-calling.

-

Prompts via @whumperless-whump-event and @seth-whumps

[attyrocious]

have this weekend's marker practices also bc its katakuri's bday

[artharakka]

Beautiful, But Broken

[notmoreflippingelves]

Actually going insane over the implications of Jason asking Dick to be the Robin to his Batman in Battle for the Cowl.

Like I initially took it at the purely surface-level of Jason wanting a partner in the general sense. Which made sense, it's a huge responsibility and a lonely one so an assistant/sidekick/partner seems a no-brainer if you can get one.

But then I really thought about it, because Jason is not asking Dick to be his partner in the general sense; he's not even asking Dick to be his Nightwing. He's asking Dick to be his Robin.

And they both know exactly what Jason means: "Be the light to my darkness. Be the smile to my scowl. Be the hope to my fear. "

He's saying "Be 'Robin'; be the embodiment of Love and Justice and Goodness. Be the exceptional person that you have always been. Be the slightly-less exceptional person that I was when I wore your colors. Be the person that I was in the process of becoming and might have been (or might still be), if only Joker hadn't clipped my wings."

He's saying "I am prepared to become vengeance, become the Night. And I will go further than Bruce ever dared to, because it is what is needed. I will be the necessary evil. But you don't have to be. If Batman is Gotham's curse, Robin has always been its blessing. I will be the brutal punishment to our world, and I am asking you to be its incandescent gift."

He's saying, "Be for me, what we were for Him. Be my anchor, my comfort, my hope. Remind me what it's all for, why it's all worth it. And remind yourself as well."

He's saying "Be 'Robin' again--for both of our sakes."

[chirpsythismorning]

Bringing this back bc I think we as a society moved on too fast

[rontra]

Persona failteacher yuri, comic #23: about her breaking point (part 2: apartment lore, and the moon) [AU masterpost]

this one alludes to the climax of persona 3, but it's from such a fuzzy outsider perspective that i can't say it constitutes "spoilers" either (due to lacking ... really Any concrete plot details or context). still 🤔 there u go

i think kawakami is not scared of like, ghost stories or horror etc because shes like . there are way scarier things going on in my real life. this is nothing to me. MEANWHILE toriumi's emotions are very easy to stir so she can get caught up in it and get really freaked out. that's how i feel. like kawakami's repressing her romantic side on purpose but i think the resistance to horror is just natural 😂

if i had a nickel for every time toriumi almost told this story but then got scared and backed out of the question i would....well becky is keeping a tally so i'll leave it to her