#smart tricks

[goshyesvintageads]

United States Playing Card Co, 1952

[maniaeofmadness]

I am a firm believer that Stan and Mabel are not the "dumber" twins. They just aren't as interesting in 'nerd' stuff like Ford and Dipper are.

Stan was able to rebuild like 90% of the portal with only the 1 of the journals, most likely having to teach himself advanced mathematics and scientific theories to even understand what the thing is. It barely took him a few weeks to get the portal up and running after getting the other two journals. Not to mention how he was able to create a business and keep people entertained at his day job. The man is smart.

Mabel is able to create sweaters at the drop of a hat. If you don't know anything about knitting, it takes a lot of math and planning to be able to make a sweater, and Mabel is constantly making them for everyone around her. She made a full 2 act puppet shows with musical numbers and sets and well made puppets in like a week. She may not be interested in the 'nerd' stuff like Dipper, but she's creative and thinks in innovative ways.

Both of them are amazingly charismatic. They can make friends and bond with those around them easily, whether it be for business purposes like Stan or simply childlike positivity like Mabel.

They aren't dumb.

[rin-may-1103]

The Eyes of Death. Pt 2

Prev. | Master post | Next

"Robin!" Orcale cried through the coms, startling Damian as he ducked beneath a punch thrown his way. Growling, Damian Sparta kicked the goon before him, spun around, and throat-punched the last one standing.

"What?" he huffed, glancing around his area to see if he had missed something; Father was facing off against Penguin, Tim was taunting Mr. Freeze, and Jason was plowing his way through the rest of the goons down on the ground floor.

Gunshots flashed by and up toward the roof, drawing his attention.

Turning around, Damian watched as Dick jumped from the rafters and dropped two other goons with brutal precision, their guns clattering to the ground. That's four. He could still hear Steph and Cass fighting in the other room over the comms, which makes it six. (Seven if he counted Duke, who was at home resting after a long patrol) They were still up and fighting, which meant nothing was out of place.

"Your boyfriend wouldn't happen to be named Daniel Fenton, right?" Barbara's voice was strained. She practically begged him to correct her and prove she was mistaken.

Damian tensed up but rushed over to help down the goons surrounding Dick, his heart thundering away in his chest. "What happened?" he growled, drawing his katana when a goon quickly pulled a knife. The sound of metal against metal almost blocked her voice, but Damian could still make out what she said.

"He's been taken by some cultists, they're broadcasting everything. They're setting up the ritual right now; they cut his arm and are using his blood mixed with black paint to mark the ground. I'm pretty sure he's in shock, he barely reacted to the cut."

"Oh, shit!" Steph cursed, "not the boyfriend!"

"Where?" he grunted, parrying the knife away and kicking the guy over the railing. The man's scream cut out as his body hit the floor. "Robin!" Father hissed in anger, quickly tying up Penguin.

"He'll live!" Damian shouted back as he marched toward the door and reached for his grapple gun, "Oracle! Where is he?"

The others could finish up here without him, they had already dealt with what the two rouges had been planning. All that was left was to gather up the goons and hand everyone over to the GCPD. His boyfriend, who hadn't texted him to tell him he had gotten home safe because apparently he'd been kidnapped by cultists, was more important than beating the crap out of some lowly goons.

"The Financial District, warehouse seven on 4th street." she huffed, the sound of keys clicking as she sent him the live footage. Clicking the side of his mask, he was met with the sight of his boyfriend bound to a chair and glaring up at the camera. His blue eyes were filled with more annoyance than fear, but that didn't reassure Damian at all when the camera backed up and revealed Danny's heavily bleeding arm.

They must have cut an artery with how deep the wound looked. The only reason he wasn't already dead from blood loss was because of how tight the ropes were, it seemed.

"Shit," Damian hissed as he shot his grapple up at the building across the street, "make sure an ambulance is en route, Danny's going to need it. They must have cut through his radial artery if not both."

He could hear Dick hold back a gasp at his words but ignored it, as he flew toward the roof and started running. A loud thud landed behind him, followed by footsteps as Father's gruff voice echoed into his ear as they ran. "Jets on its way, it'll be faster than the car." Damian silently changed direction, continuing to jump roofs.

"I'm coming with," Dick demanded, landing a couple buildings behind them. Damian grunted in acknowledgment, not caring what they did. He needed to be there, he needed to be there thirty minutes ago; when he should have been walking Danny home like he asked him too.

"GOTHAM!" the person holding the camera shouted with a slip of paper in their other hand, allowing the camera a glimpse of the words. Danny's eyes narrowed even more, something like disbelief filling his eyes as the man continued talking, "Tonight, you shall join us as we summon the most powerful being in the world!"

"Danny looks so disappointed," Dick snorted, pulling out his own grapple at the sound of the jet approaching. Of course, Danny was disappointed, it was a waste of paper just to remember so little. Damian agreed but couldn't do anything other than huff at his brother's comment, most of his focus on watching the video.

Dick wrapped an arm around him, firing at the jet just as it rocketed overhead. They were launched into the air and dragged over buildings as the jet flew toward their destination. Father dangled across from them for a second before the three of them latched onto the rail under the jet designed for quick departure. They sat in silence as all three of them focused back on the video feed.

"Now," the leader shouted, coming into view as the cameraman backed up. Danny and the freshly painted circle were in full view, but so was the group of people off to the side. Damian recognized two of the people on the ground. Nancy and Wyatt, Danny's forcibly appointed college guides or "parents".

Damian remembers the day Danny had been introduced to them, spouting vitriol in anger about them being acephobic and how the college wouldn't allow him to switch guides. Nancy was crying, her mascara running down her face. Wyatt was deathly pale, all the blood bleeding away from his face as he watched the cultists in what looked like horrified guilt.

"Let us begin," the leader cheered, grabbing Danny's shoulders from behind him. Danny glanced worriedly at the group and then at the camera like he couldn't decide what he should focus on, subconsciously cringing away from the man behind him.

"Join me as we summon our lord and savior!" Danny narrowed his eyes in anticipation, "The great tyrant of the dead!" he now looked confused, "The embodiment of war and bloodshed!" back to worried, "The one named PARIAH DARK!" amused, because of course, his boyfriend would find the name amusing, "THE HORRIFIC GHOST KING!!!" now he was back to confused and worried.

The leader turned and walked back over to one of his followers, snatching an old book and opening it. Without any fanfare, the man began chanting, guiding his followers like he was the director of a twisted play.

"ten minutes," Father grunted, "Oracle, get everything you can on the ghost king. We need to know what we're about to run into. Call someone from Dark, we'll probably need their guide on how to deal with this."

Dick readjusted his grip, tightening his arm in reassurance as Danny's eyes glanced up and toward the rafters like he was looking for one of them. No, not like. He was looking for them; because Damian had promised him in the past that if he was ever in trouble, the bats would save him. And if not them then he would. Danny had rolled his eyes at the time, sarcastically calling him his hero. But he believed him because Damian had promised.

Damian growled as one of the cultists smashed a bowl on the ground, splattering Danny in what he had to assume was the blood and paint mixture Barbera had told him about earlier.

Damian watched as Danny glared at the black stains all over his front with disdain, trying to mutter something through the gag in his mouth the camera couldn't catch. "Is he seriously worried about his shirt?" Tim huffed over comms, the sound of police sirens growing louder.

"I would too if that's the only nice shirt I had," Steph grumbled before shouting something at someone.

"My boyfriend owns more than one shirt, Spoiler." Damian hissed.

"No offense, Damian," Steph laughed, "but your boyfriend looks like he crawled out of a dumpster after losing a fight against one of your raccoons."

"Oh, give him a break! The poor boy's just been kidnapped, of course, he looks bad." Barbera chided.

Damian went to respond but stopped to watch as another cultist stepped forward and tossed salt at Danny. Danny shook his head and glared at the cultist, only to be slapped in the face with another handful of salt for his efforts.

"That's one way to rub salt in the wound," Jason huffed, "make sure you kick that one in the dick for me."

"With pleasure," Damian grumbled, leaning back to try and see the warehouse they were heading toward. "Seven minutes," Father added, noticing how impatient Damian was starting to get.

they silently watched as the cultists continued chanting, Barbera occasionally telling them things she'd found. (She was having difficulty connecting with The Dark members, something about an unexpected mission off-world.)

Danny was starting to look tired, his face paler than usual (A hard feat, considering his boyfriend looked like a fresh corpse on a good day. If he didn't know any better, he would think his boyfriend had never spent a second in the sun his entire life.)

Suddenly, Danny started to cough, shaking his head, clenching his eyes closed in pain for a second before focusing back on the leader. "The blood loss is starting to catch up to him," Tim commented as Danny glanced up at the rafters again, "let the hospital know to have extra blood ready."

"Got it," Barbera agreed, still typing away. "No one's answering, I'm going to try Constantine, now."

"Two minutes," Father warned, getting ready to jump. Damian steadied himself, leaning forward to time his jump correctly. "Shit," Jason cursed, drawing Damian's attention back to the video in time to watch as a cultist raised a bloody blade into the air and slammed it into Danny's chest. "You need to get there, now!"

The cultist yanked out the knife and handed it to the leader, who was now standing in front of Danny. Danny's chest quickly stained red, his eyes wide in shock and horror.

"Take this lowly sacrifice as a sign of our eternal loyalty, and grace us with your presence! Your humble servants plead that your godly ears hear our prayers! Join us in this mortal realm and bequeath us your power and name to rectify the sins of our brethren!" the leader's voice echoed in the silent warehouse like a gunshot. but Damian couldn't hear a single word the man spoke as he watched Danny lean forward in pain, trying to grab at his chest.

His restrained hands pulled against the rope, causing more blood to leak from his wound, his eyes clenching shut as his left hand started glowing green. He suddenly started screaming, his voice strained like it was being ripped out of his throat, barely muffled by the gag.

A bright light flashed, spreading from where he'd been stabbed and crawling over his body. His skin turned gray, almost blue, like a body found out in a snowstorm. His hair started floating in an absent current like he was underwater. and his eyes started glowing a bright blue, growing brighter and brighter.

"NOW!" Father shouted, launching off the railing and gliding through the air. Damian didn't hesitate to follow, all his training allowing him to go on autopilot as he used his cape to guide his fall.

Danny slumped forward, his head hanging limp as the warehouse went deathly silent.

Twisting in the air, Damian aimed his grapple hook and fired. It latched onto the warehouse and tugged him forward, his fall turning into a swing as he rocketed toward the glass window. "Your Highness?" someone asked, their voices glitching in and out with the video feed.

Damian watched as the Danny in the video slowly lifted his head in time with the Danny he could see through the quickly approaching glass. Damian only had a split second to register that his boyfriend's eyes were no longer blue, but bright green before his feet smashed through the window and he was landing in a roll on the ground.

Immediately, the camera feed disappeared from his view, allowing him to focus on what was around him. Father crashed through the skylight, showering the cultists in glass as he landed on the other side of the room. Dick landed next to him, fluidly popping up from his roll.

"Shit!" someone shouted, "it's the bats!"

"run!" someone else yelled.

Damian lunged forward, burying his fist into the first cultist's face with a satisfying crunch. The warehouse flooded with loud screams and rapid movement.

"Dammit!" the leader cursed, dragging Damian's attention over to him. He had left the circle at some point, crazily looking around to try and find a quick exit.

Abandoning the cultists he was fighting, Damian quickly sprinted at the man. Unsheathing his katana, Damian attacked. The leader used the bloody knife to parry, scrambling back to get away. Damian growled, about to follow when his eyes landed on Danny's black and blood-stained face right behind the man.

Bright Lazarus green eyes stared back.

~

Danny's vision tilted, or was that just his head? It felt like he was in one of those twisty things NASA shoves their astronauts in under the claim of training for departure and reentry into Earth's atmosphere. or maybe it felt like a hundred pounds of soaked cotton balls shoved behind his eyes and lit on fire?

he couldn't tell, at this point, his head could be detached for all he knew. Wait, no. He's done that before, this feels nothing like that. So, he still had his head... but does his head still have a body???

He would glance down, but he's afraid he won't be able to lift his head again... Had he lifted his head? or had the world moved around him like it does in the realms? Where was he?

Danny's core pulsed in confusion as someone stepped over the circle, quickly followed by someone else. No one was supposed to enter unless a deal was about to be made. Had he made a deal?

Blinking, he focused his blurry vision as much as he could on the figure slowly approaching him. Had he already been looking at them? His vision tilted again, making his gut roll in nausea. A voice slowly broke through the static ringing in his ears, and his shirt suddenly pulled in frightened hands.

"Your Highness! these are the sinners I told you about!" the voice screeched, a pitch so out of the norm that Danny could only assume the voice belonged to a small fly-turned-eldritch little girl.

Wait a moment, that was his title? Your Highness? seriously? Was everyone going to be calling him that? He was the king; wasn't it supposed to be majesty??? He'll ask Dora later; now wasn't the time.

"Oh great ghost king!" the high-pitched voice cracked and lowered back to one he was starting to get familiar with, "Pariah Dark, lend me your power so I might defeat him!"

Did he seriously just call Danny, Pariah??? The man, the leader of the cult, Mr. totally-read-one-fake-ritual-book-when-he-was-a-teen-and-now-has-to-make-it-everyone's-problem, kneeled in front of Danny, his hands twisted into Danny's ruined shirt. The blurry figure froze, not moving now that Danny had broken eye contact to look down at the horrible man.

Danny might be completely out of it and have no idea what's going on anymore, (he was in so much pain, why was there so much pain? he wanted it to go away, why wasn't it going away?) but he's been trained for moments like this. He can't let anyone see him as weak, not when he has to protect the realms as is his kingly duty.

Clockwork thought it would be a good idea to drop him in the middle of a meeting with some demons right after Danny had pulled an all-nighter and fought three of his rouges. let's just say, Danny was not pleased with the old goat after that. On the other hand, every time he meets a new demon, they seem to respect him much more than before. (he's still not sure what he did to earn that, but whatever)

So, acting like nothing was wrong would be easy peasy.

Sitting up straight, like Dora taught, Danny gazed down at the man who had demanded his attention. He turned his jaw intangible, dropping the gag and allowing him to speak freely again, "why should I?" His voice was echoey, cold, and devoid of the usual emotion.

It was completely different than what it usually was. Like he was a completely different person. (He sounded like Dan) which caught Danny off guard, but he had to ignore it for now. Clockwork had said that Danny Phantom was different from King Phantom, maybe this is what he meant. (hopefully not, he hated sounding like Dan. Was this permanent? was he always going to sound like this???)

"Why?" the leader stumbled, letting go of Danny's shirt in surprise, "because I summoned you! I control you!"

He looked outraged like it was Danny's fault he was in this mess.

Snorting, Danny smirked at the man. "Why should I lend you my power when you haven't even gotten my name correct?" That was like common summoning courtesy 101, right? Frostbite said something like that... or was it Pandora? Wait... wasn't that the demon etiquette? What was the ghost-summoning etiquette then? Also, could he even lend his power to someone else??? like, demons could, but could Danny???

"Who cares!" the man snapped, picking up the knife he had dropped next to him and slashing it at Danny. He didn't even have to think as he instinctively turned his right arm intangible and snatched the man's wrist, clenching it tightly to make him drop it. He was not going to let the man stab him again, thank you very much.

his core grumbled in annoyance, scattering his thoughts for a moment. What was he doing? his arm burned like it had been shot with an ecto blast, but that wasn't right, it was cut by-

Oh, right. cultists. Gotta deal with that.

Fazing the ropes off, Danny carefully stood up. An almost silent whine drew his attention up; it was the fuzzy figure, or now that Danny could actually see a little easier, Robin. Huh, looks like the bats actually made it after all. A little late to the party, but oh well.

Wait...

Shit, he didn't need the Bats up in all of his business. Especially since everything the ritual did to him was recorded, the ghostly stuff included. (Was Damian watching? Did he think Danny was dead now? a normal person would have died right?) He'd have to clear up any misinterpretations later, right now he has to focus on gaslighting the Fuck out of Batman and his partners.

Maybe he won't even have to deal with the Justice League if he pulls this off.

ok, what do they think the situation is? A Cult recording themselves sacrificing some random dude, the dude gets stabbed in the chest (probably assumed dead, he'll have to fix that...), then some ghostly shit happens, and the dude has glowing eyes... which basically lines up with the socially accepted symptoms of possession.

Cool, cool, cool. Danny'll just act like he's possessing himself then. No need to make it weird. Or reveal that he's a halfa.

...

How the fuck was a ghost king, who for all intents and purposes, knows nothing about mortal life, supposed to act when possessing a random body????? does he call it his body?? vessel? homing beacon?

"-leas me this intance! I summoned you, you listen to me! ME! I summoned you. Therefore, you have to do as I say!" the leader's voice broke through Danny's thoughts, bringing him back to the present. Again. Man, he seriously needs to get his shit together. Maybe it was the blood loss, they had cut him pretty badly earlier...

Sighing, which hurt a lot actually... he should probably fix that. Mentally shrugging, Danny allowed his ectoplasm to heal his wounds, which in turn settled his core a lot more than he expected. Maybe he shouldn't suppress it so much in the future... OR he should, and just not allow himself to be used in other rituals. Yeah, that's probably it. Man, he's going to have to talk with Frostbite after this is all over.

"You know nothing of which you speak, mortal," Danny grumbled, turning slowly to examine the warehouse. The bats had been fast, or Danny was just really out of it, because not only were all the cultists knocked out but the other hostages were gone.

"I know enough!" the man screeched, hitting his free fist against Danny's arm in an attempt to get Danny to release him. The only thing that was going to do was leave a bruise. Robin growled almost silently in response, which was weird. Why would Robin be upset about this man hitting Danny? or was he more upset along the lines of believing the random "hostage" Danny is "possessing" being hurt?

Yeah, that was probably it. All right, time to act all Ghost Kingly or whatever. If he was about to do something stupid then Clockwork would intervene. Since he hasn't so far, Danny was taking this as the old man giving his permission to proceed.

"Stop bruising my new favorite vessel, or I'll show you why it's a bad idea to mess with the dead." Danny hissed, pulling the man up so they were eye to eye. (it wasn't that hard, considering Danny was short as fuck. Who knew dying would stunt your growth?)

The man leaned back, his eyes wide in fear. His face turned green, or was that just the light from Danny's eyes? how bright were they glowing???

Oh, right, old ghost king, you need to focus here Danny.

Rolling his eyes, Danny harshly (not as hard as he could have though, even if he wanted to punt the man into the sun) tossed the man out of the circle and toward Robin. Nightwing, who Danny had just noticed was also there, quickly rushed over and wrangled the man over to the pile of cultists and tied him up.

"Your vessel," Batman grunted, stepping up to stand next to Robin. (Danny wasn't sure when, but Robin had left the circle. Which meant they probably had someone with magic experience telling them what to do now.)

"Yes, mine," Danny huffed, slowly turning to study the broken windows. his head was killing him, like four migraines stuffed into one killing him...

Do they not know how to use a door? Like, how often do they break through windows? Like, sure, it probably saves them a few extra seconds during a fight, but seriously? Do they at least pay the owners back for the property damage?

"He's not yours," Robin hissed, unsheathing his katana. Batman rested his hand on his shoulder, likely to warn Robin from doing something stupid.

Lifting his brow, Danny glanced down at his body. Did Robin know him? Or was he really just that protective of the people in his city? Even though Danny wasn't technically a Gothamite? He remembered Damian telling him at one point that if he was ever in trouble, the bats would save him. Hmm, yeah, probably just very protective of the people in their city then.

Danny was the same way when he was Phantom; those tourists might not be native Amity Parkers, but they were his tourists. So back off, ghost number 700 of the week. Or something along those lines.

Yeah, that's probably it.

"He," oh wow, speaking about himself was so weird, "was used as a sacrifice to summon me, which makes him mine." Ignoring the fact that his body belonged to him beforehand because, again, this is his body, but you know, can't tell them that. Also, even if this was someone else's body, it'd technically be Danny's. Look, being the ghost king meant Danny owned a lot of weird things, one of those being literally anyone's dead body. (He refused to think about the fact that Pariah had technically owned his body.)

Glancing up, Danny watched as Batman tightened his grip on Robin's shoulder. "Release his body at once, you lowly demonic pit waste! His body-"

"OK!" Nightwing cut in, clapping his hands. "How about this," he glanced at Robin and then back at Danny, clearly nervous about Robin's outburst. Also, what the hell was pit waste? Like, obviously Robin was insulting him, but he could have at least used an insult Danny would understand.

Also, why was Robin insulting a supposedly all-powerful king of the dead? Wasn't he supposed to be one of the more rational vigilantes? Maybe he just got emotional when he thought he failed to protect someone? Which is completely understandable, Danny did not react well when he failed to keep someone safe.

"We apologize for any wrongdoing Robin's words have caused. You willingly go back to your realm, leave your vessel's body behind, and we" he gestured at himself and the other two, "don't get other magic users involved? how does that sound?"

"Is that a threat?" because seriously, that sounded exactly like a threat. Did they seriously not know how to talk to other dimensional beings? Shouldn't they, as Justice League members, know how to diplomatically converse with others? Especially ones that could kill them with a glance? (like, Danny obviously wouldn't do that, but come on!)

His core stuttered again, drawing his attention to the fact that Danny was running out of power to keep up whatever transformation he'd taken on. Which was weird because he's obviously not in his ghost form, so why was it so draining??? And there's plenty of ectoplasm in the air, so, like, this was just ridiculous.

"Whatever," Danny huffed, looking down to study the circle as Nightwing started waving his hands in denial. "I already healed the vessel, he'll technically live." He could feel the pull it had on his core, which meant he had no idea what would happen once it was broken. Would he feel the same things he felt earlier? or would it just be like letting go of someone's hand?

Man, he was too tired for this crap. He wanted to go home and sleep. maybe steel his boyfriend's hoodie and cuddle with Cujo.

You know what? Danny didn't care, he should just break the circle and act like nothing happened. Yep, that's the plan. Still, he should probably prepare for if something goes wrong, you know, like passing out.

Carefully, both because the world was still kind of spinning around him, and to keep the bats from reacting badly, Danny made his way to stand in front of the Vigilantes. They should have quick reflexes; if he passes out, they should be able to catch him, right?

Without warning, Danny dragged his shoe over the line and broke the circle. Immediately his core hissed and all of his energy disappeared. Crumpling forward, Danny barely processed the sight of Robin's panicked lunge to catch him before everything turned dark and his body felt on fire.

Next

[miscellaneoustofu]

Bad and evil German teenagers who are mean to their only friend/situation-ship get sentenced to learning 10,000 magic tricks to make up for it.

Oh, and Kaiser must travel back in time and re-create all of Harry Potter so it isn’t written by like the worst person ever. I just know Ness made Harry Potter his whole personality for at least 3 years straight. Is this even a debate? We just know.

Anyhow, it’s crazy how a couple of good analysis on Twitter and YouTube can change my mind so completely about two characters.

Less than a month ago I was completely indifferent. Despite how I always thought Kaiser’s design was stellar and felt sad for Ness, I was never invested enough to make art for them. Like they’re pretty boys, that’s mega cool, but they’re not my Bachira.

Now I adore the heck outta them.

I think it’ll take time, and it’s for the best that bllk is fiction, but I think they can become good for each other.

Kaiser needs someone like Ness who’s still able to dream. Considering how abuse has made concepts like wanting love and freedom feel like chasing the impossible. And Ness deserves someone who can make his dreams real after years of getting put down by people who were supposed to love him.

Idk I like them. Isagi dismantling their entire world was the best thing that could’ve happened.

Sometimes things gotta break before you can start fixing them?

[its-haughty]

“I'll kill every one of you who killed Kanna…!!”

(my sorry ass could NOT stop thinking about them and all i can muster is a sketch turned lazily rendered doodle whoops)

[thatsbelievable]

[chloesimaginationthings]

Josuke and Okuyasu pull a trick

[itsamenickname]

I don't know if anyone would be interested in hearing this, but I have a probably hilarious Bowuigi idea that deals with reverse psychology.

Okay, so imagine with me a time where Luigi and Bowser just started dating and Luigi shortly thereafter (probably like a few days later) tells Mario that he and Bowser are dating. While I feel like Mario would go big brother protective mode on Luigi, Mario eventually tells Luigi that he'll give Bowser the benefit of the doubt, but also tells Luigi that if Bowser hurts him in anyway, he (Mario) will give Bowser hell.

However, after his conversation with Luigi (probably a few hours later or something), Mario would march over to Bowser's Castle and demand the minions to see Bowser. Once Mario and Bowser are face-to-face in Bowser's throne room, Mario would interrogate Bowser about what Luigi said to Mario (i.e., "Is it true that you and Luigi dating?", "How long has this been going on?", etc.). After asking a lot of questions, Mario would get quiet for a little bit and then would tell Bowser that he does not approve of his and Luigi's relationship. Now if Mario was completely honest, he wasn't sure how Bowser was going to react upon hearing his disapproval, but shocked couldn't even describe how Mario felt as soon as he hears Bowser say this specific line:

"Good. I wasn't planning on dating your brother for very long anyway."

Now, the throne room was completely fucking quiet after Bowser's statement. Hell, it was so quiet that if one were to listen closely, they could probably hear the sound of nearby Koopa Paratroopas flapping their wings or even the soft sound of minions walking outside the throne room.

But Mario quickly breaks the silence with these two sentences:

"The fuck do you mean 'you're not planning on dating Luigi for very long'?!"

"What, you think you're too good for my little brother?!"

These two sentences were just the beginning of Mario's rant as he started to go fucking off on Bowser. Bowser, being Bowser, just has this uninterested/bored expression on his face as Mario continues to go off on the Koopa King (but he now switches between speaking English and Italian). Eventually (don't know how so bear with me), Mario tells (no, pretty much orders) Bowser that he (Bowser) will continue to date Luigi until the day that either Bowser or Luigi dies. (Note that Mario's goal is to make Bowser see that Luigi is so much more than meets the eye.) Before Bowser can have a chance to give Mario a response, Mario storms out the throne while saying a few more curse words in Italian.

But the moment Mario leaves the throne room, Bowser's bored expression is instantly replaced with a big smug smirk.

[turtleblogatlast]

I think a lot about Leo’s tendency to push his way into the spotlight despite clearly being a natural in the shadows. Hell, you could argue that his worst moments are when he’s forcing himself onstage, and his best are when he does things no one notices until it’s already been done.

[iratempestatis]

I made a post about Xiao having the potential to be a shitty father, but you know what- the opposite is just as likely.

Again, it's difficult to emphasise the potency of his paranoia. He, better than anyone, would know just how fast and how suddenly things can go wrong. He could never be cautious enough. He could never love enough.

Mortals emulate the love they've received. For Xiao, love is a distant but incredibly fond memory.

His formative years were spent slaving away for a cruel god- those events were just a deluge of misery. He was taught, in his youth, that love was nothing but a fleeting fog- that it is power that forms the stuff of sweet dreams. His childhood was a deluge of misery.

He'd at least know what not to do.

Sure, love found him in the form of his siblings- and you, of course- overwhelming adoration. But that's not the same as the love a parent has for their child, yes?

Xiao would need to fathom- on his own- what love would have to mean for him.

Xiao has no love to emulate from his childhood- and so he'd at least know what to avoid.

In his youth, his naivete was exploited- and so the child would never be punished for theirs. By the skies and the sands and the seas, he'd do anything, anything to keep them from feeling bad for knowing less, for being small. He'd listen intently to their mindless chatter, be an incredible attentive listener to the most puerile nonsense, acknowledge every complaint with the utmost gravitas.

Being made to forego his own instincts, forget his own intelligence and being forcibly morphed into a desperate bloodhound would be a most painful memory, and so the child would be given a startling amount of autonomy- within reason. Xiao does not have mortal parents, and an elder telling the baby “because I said so!” would make him froth at the mouth in a rage. He'd tell the tiny fucker every reason for every action if they asked. Sure, he can't really make it eloquent, but he can always try to at least answer.

“Why do I have to sleep at nine? I don't want to sleep at nine!”

“You have to sleep at nine because you have school tomorrow.”

“I won't go!”

“That's foolish.”

“Why.”

Every why would find a patient answer. Your baby would be the most articulate six year old on any playground pretty much anywhere. And also probably the most annoying.

Xiao would also never place any restraints on food- again, within reason. “You can't have candy for dinner because it's not good for your health, but if you want more chicken, that can be arranged.”

“We're out of chicken!” the child would howl and he'd tell them to say that again, politely, and when they acquiesced and quietly protested "but we're out of chicken!" he'd go off to buy and cook more.

The little runt gets caught stuffing food into their mouth at two in the night? He'd panic. Does he not feed the child enough? He's never been more ashamed of himself. He's a failure of a parent. You have to stop him from staring into space with an anguished expression and gently explain that kids- and well, adults too- just get hungry sometimes.

He'd sternly tell the tiny creature to wake him next time. Why? Because they're too small to use the stove on their own. Why? Because they're not old enough to have the motor skills to use it safely. Why? Because everyone needs to do some growing and get some practice before they can. Why? He really doesn't know. That's just how mortals are. He hopes that's a satisfactory answer.

The child's a picky eater? He'll try to convince them, but he'd never force them to eat something that really does disgust them. Even the thought of it is enough to spark echoes of the past, whispering voices that call for violence and stolen dreams. It makes him nauseous.

The child doesn't like boiled broccoli? That's fine. Would they prefer it cooked into cutlets? That's great. No boiled eggs? What do you have against boiled things, tiny creature? It feels gross? Fine. Would you prefer your eggs poached, on toast?

He discovers that's a messy thing to feed a child.

So much of his life has been spent in solitude. The cool sting of loneliness is an intimate friend, and so he'd let himself be summoned at a moment's notice. The child's bored? What would they prefer to do?

They have a tennis match? The thought of teeny tiny baby mortals swinging their minuscule arms at a ball flying all over the place nearly makes him smile. He bites it back on instinct, then sees the earnest expression on the ankle biter before him, and lets it escape. He'd never keep a smile from something so precious, so deserving of everything he can contrive and more, more, more.

Anyway, of course he shows up. Maybe not in the crowd with the other parents, but he watches regardless.

Xiao is strict about a curfew. It's one thing he'll never budge on, and it's the same for all his children, if for some reason you want more than one tiny creature running amok causing chaos, and expecting rationale from you before they acquiesce to your requests. He lives in terror of anything happening to the baby, and he's taken care to ensure his name always being on the tip of their tongue the moment they suspect danger.

He'd be so terrified of being a bad father that he'd end up being the very opposite.

(nuance in the reblogs thanks to @sizzles-z-4002 !! Thank you <3)

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

Do you think it is possible for the other trolls to gaslight Eridan into do the murder for the right cause? E.g. not like the murderstuck in the canon but guiding his murderous direction to align with the purpose, using him as a disposable glass cannon and a cannon fodder to take down enemies? but not easily disposable due to seadweller's physical strength and his fighting skills. Not the optimal way to handle him but given that he needs some presence of others how will this scenario go?

no because i believe eridan is the specific type of idiot that you can't actually manipulate because he doesn't listen to people. god bless 🫡

[kronoscythe]

figuring out auntie em is medusa five seconds in, figuring out the casino belongs to the lotus eaters immediately. what are we doing

[asimplehamster]

Sqh only lets Mobei hit him.

Sqh is someone who is very aware of the fights he can win. He's not going to loose to some no name kitchen demon. The first demon to hit him who he knows won't be missed ends up dead in the servants quarters, his internal organs melted with the venom of some fancy snake. A clear do not cross me I'm connected and will end you. Something all the servants can respect.

[headcanonthings]

Anakin: How are we going to get this tracker the size of a credit chip on Padme without her noticing? Obi-Wan: Hey Padme, I bet you a tin of tea you can't swallow this credit chip. Padme: *without hesitation takes the tracker and swallows it* Padme: Pay up loser! I'll take my usual! Anakin:

[corvid-language-library]

Getting real tired of Unsplash tagging its animals incorrectly. Idk if users pick them or if they're autogenerated or what but like

this beauty here is tagged as blue jay, bluebird, finch and jay. It is none of those birds; it is very clearly a drongo (short-tailed drongo I think but don't quote me on that I'm not all that familiar with drongos)

[khattikeri]

there's something so odd yet fascinating about how fanworks for mxtx's books tend to misinterpret the literal protagonists of her stories more than any other characters