#then a second thought 'how to fix it?'

[skeletoninthemelonland]

BTC definitely talks to himself. Like while he's working on his projects or walking around, all the while muttering away about what parts he needs or where he needs to go next.

that, my fellow tumblr user, is actually 100% canon! He does it ALL the time throughout the series. He also gets so focused he ends up forgetting where he put his things (and gets angry at himself for it)

[harpuiaa]

(person that has never seen saw but has read yugioh voice) yeah? so he traps people in evil puzzle rooms? sounds a lot like a guy i know

[flickerintwilights]

on the road to hell

[wingsofwater]

peach pit

[ID : a chubby skywing dragon named Pyrite, who has yellowish-orange scales with a lighter yellow underbelly and dark freckles across her scales, resembling the inside of a peach. she has a crest of dark spines along the back of her neck and on the tip of her tail, antler-like horns, her body is dappled with scars, and she wears a cord around her neck like a choker. she is sitting down, facing towards the left, with her wings held open and an uncertain expression on her face. the background is a teal rectangle with white peach blossoms overlayed on top of it. END ID]

[cherubytes]

one-sided v4v where the v2 fights are just a way to get attention but v1 doesn't care at all

[moodyseal]

It's sad that after all that's happened (and even after he said he'd rather die than turn to Zeus for help) Apollo still prays to his father first when faced with immediate danger

[roseworth]

part of the appeal of a jason & rose team up to me is that they are so similar personality-wise but they are soooo different in their approach to crimefighting in the sense that jason is a meticulous planner and rose does not plan more than 10 minutes ahead. jason spends weeks putting together every aspect of their plan and backup plans in case something goes wrong just for rose to ruin it by going "im gonna kick down this door and see if anyones behind it"

[bonetrousledbones]

lil slightly updated fullbody of this motherfucker. shapes !!!!

bonus because i am supremely bad at following my own refs and fucked up his shoes lmao

[arsenicflame]

so, this ones technically not a fix it because its still major character death but this is how i would tweak the canon story to give Izzy's death meaning and weight.

First of all, Izzy doesn't get shot by Ricky. The crew of the revenge may still be absolute rookies by Izzy's standards but even they know to take all the weapons off a hostage and unload any guns. Ricky still escapes and alerts the Navy, and our crew are running through the woods, down to the beach and Izzy is still falling back. For all his new prosthetic has helped his mobility immensely, its no good for running. Its clunky and dragging behind him and Ed and Frenchie and Jim and everyone keeps slowing down to make sure he's keeping up with them, but in doing that the navy are quickly catching up to all of them, they're being swarmed.

They break through the trees onto the beach, with more and more men coming up behind them. Izzy's struggling even more across the beach than he was in the woods, the hoof sinking in and sand shifting as he tries to run, and he stumbles. All the while Navy men continue to appear from all directions- and it hits him. That this is it. There's no way they will all make it out alive.

But he's Izzy Fucking Hands and even if he cant run anymore, he can still fight. He can fight for this crew, this family, these people who have given him so much, who have opened their arms to him when he was at his lowest, who have allowed him to feel free. He can still fight. He can buy them time.

So he turns, and draws his sword.

There was never any way he could win, of course. Even when he truly was the best swordfighter in all the Caribbean, fighting dozens of navy men at once would have been beyond him- but he can distract them, hold them off long enough the revenge sets sail. Its a glorious sight, one man against dozens, bodies falling around him as he holds them back. Its impressive to watch, and maybe, for a second, the crew allows themselves to hope. But then, he takes a cut to his sword arm, and another to his side.

And then he goes down.

But he goes down fighting.

Izzy Hands, who spent his whole life fighting dies that way too, fighting for the safety he spent his whole life searching for.

[arcadekitten]

Arcadekitten Are redesigns of your characters allowed?

I'm okay with redesigns as long as they are respectful! But because I've had people ask me what that means, I whipped up this drawing really quickly to further elaborate what I mean by that.

[caramellashton]

'this is like wanting your kid to get better by yelling at them and hitting them… you know it won't change/fix anything.'

EXACTLY I have been saying this for so long!! it's not gonna work and it's just gonna make everything worse. it's not a form of activism to just bully people until they conform to what you want; humans are autonomous people capable of choosing good, and like. we could be in the fandom of another band that doesn't even try, whose fans have given up on them and are just there for the music and the drama, but it's like the minute they do try to do something good they have to do activism a certain way and it almost becomes a kind of purity culture and purity culture is famously about control and not good for anyone.

but it's also people trying to be funny in the comments with thinly veiled frustrations that come out as insults about their appearance (which especially gets to me bc like. does body positivity stop if you're famous? or are they just idealised figures/bodies/personalities for us to look at and pretend our bodies don't change over time and we don't like it when they remind us that they actually do?) or their partners or how they express themselves. and it's the aura of entitlement that erodes their right to autonomy and individuality that gets me, not only because the way we get the creative music they make is them expressing that.

anyway i do think we as a fandom can do better and i want to attempt to start a conversation about that rather than trying to call people out in the comments. still thinking of how. there's a lot of people in the fandom who are struggling and exasperated with life and relate to their songs and the pressure has to come out somewhere; it ends up being in comments they feel like won't ever be seen except for by people who agree with them, at people who seem to far away and too big to ever see getting hurt by their comments. at least that's what I assume happens. but yes, they were bullying a cat

I agree with everything...

Was it always like this? It can't be because this is too much, none of the hate was on me and I couldn't take it, I wonder how the guys (or any celebrity) feels, being judged about the tiniest move you do, it's crazy I would totally lose my mind.

That's not how life is... yes I would love to be a fan of good people but if the gf/partner of the artist you're a fan of is bad and their friends are bad what does that make them? Maybe it's on you, maybe YOU should pick better idk 😭.

[flufflecat]

anyone else finding it really, really personally nauseating that the pjo show would remove gabes entire character and replace him with someone less abusive to make sally a Strong Female Character. like wow, im sure glad that youve proven that women who are abused are the REAL threat to feminism, and they should just try talking back more!! what a good message to send to abused kids. sorry, kid. i guess you just didnt argue hard enough and #Own your abuser into seeing how cool and strong you are. what do you mean that arguing with an abuser will only make them hurt you more? but look how snappy and cool and feminist sally is now!!! youre clearly just being abused wrong.

[starryemeralds]

guys don’t worry, aziraphale is just in his zuko arc

[randomwriteronline]

"Pohatu."

The voice echoed like a knife hissing as it scratches marble. The prisoner (the only one, completely isolated from the rest of the city), huddled in a nook, shivered a little further away into the corner he'd tucked himself into and held onto himself a little tighter.

He did not respond to his own name.

Deliberate steps moved closer: clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Their rhythm was slow, cold; they accompanied a scrutinizing stare.

They stopped before the cell.

The air felt freezing.

"Pohatu."

The prisoner did not answer.

"You are not stupid. That I know."

The chilling voice was soft. It spoke lowly, taking the time to properly enunciate each and every word perfectly.

"I am certain you know what I am here for."

Once more, only silence replied.

"I would advise you do not make this harder than it already is."

He watched as the prisoner's knuckles shook while tightening around his own trembling shoulders, as though trying to hide his weakness.

"Collaborate. For your own sake."

A sob tore through the room.

Another.

Another.

Another.

"Please," the prisoner finally babbled, voice hoarse from disuse.

Broken.

It was his turn to be faced with the silent treatment. Not a word reached him as he cried inconsolably, naked face pressed against his arms, for what seemed like hours.

His brother stared on, unmoving, expressionless, until the wailing died down and the body slumped on itself from the release of pent up emotions.

"I take it you have returned to your senses."

A crooked whine.

"I do not believe I understood that."

A confused mumbling.

"Speak clearly."

"Yes!" his brother sobbed.

His orange eyes looked into blue ones pleadingly, begging for help, for forgiveness. He watched them furrow, watched clouds of condensation pour from the sides of the white mask.

"You are guilty of a terrible crime."

"Yes."

"You are aware of your misconduct."

"Yes."

"You are aware that I cannot call you brother."

A pained wince: "Yes."

Another long moment of quiet passed.

The prisoner had shifted his gaze onto the floor.

The Toa watched him, fists clenched as tight as he could.

"Are you sure your forgiveness is deserved?"

The body shook from another hysterical sob, as though it had just been struck by a lash: he inhaled sharply a few times, but could not bring himself to speak.

"Answer me."

There was another attempt. Again, nothing came of it.

"Pohatu."

"Please..."

He stared.

He stared at the pitiful thing so powerless and miserable, completely alone, curled on itself on the floor as it shuddered.

"Please..."

He stared at the pitiful thing speaking in a voice that crumbled upon itself like gravel rolling uselessly down the side of a mountain.

"Please, I... Please..."

For a long stretch of time, nothing happened.

Then the door to the cell unlocked.

Pohatu dared to look up: Kopaka stood over him, unflinching, unreadable, hands balled up in fists hard enough to crush boulders between his fingers, looking down with his glimmering blue eyes as the air around him crackled with frost.

He could have so easily torn him apart right now.

Only the two of them, here, in the dark, far away from any other form of life who could have heard any commotion or cared enough to investigate.

Nobody would have even known. Not until it was too late.

Kopaka kneeled before the former Toa and pulled him into a tight embrace, one hand cradling his nape while the other pressed hard on his back to squeeze him closer to himself.

He allowed himself a sigh in relief only when he felt the other's arms wrap around him, his face against the crook of his neck.

Pohatu held him by the waist tight.

"I missed you," he sobbed.

I missed you too, Kopaka could not say despite how desperately he needed to.

He tightened his grip.

Then the pain came.

Blinding and sudden, cruel, immense, so profoundly unexpected that all he could do was choke on his own breath.

His torso fell backwards, bending much farther that it should have. His heartlight pulsed erratically as he heaved, adrenaline rushing through him and locking his every muscle in place. His legs were slumped, completely unresponsive like the rest of his lower body; all that was keeping his entire form from crashing on the pavement like a broken doll were the kind, solid, dependable arms of his brother.

A hand wriggled in the now empty space where it had shattered his spine in a morbidly playful way.

He was laid down gently, all things considered.

His eyes only stared at his butcher wide and thoughtless like those of a helpless Rahi before a much faster predator.

Pohatu smiled down at him sweetly, exactly like he always did.

"I missed your soft spot for me."

He tore his hand out of his brother's spine with a ghastly crackle, not even flinching, to wrap it around his throat. He yanked: Kopaka coughed out an anguished wheeze as a chunk of his neck was thrown out, clattering a few bio across the floor.

Pohatu pressed his thumb between the Toa of Ice's face and his mask, applying just about the slightest leverage possible to part the two. It seemed to take ages, for the 'pop' of a dislodged Kanohi to echo through the silence of Kopaka's frantic breathing; but even with all that time for a counterattack at his disposal, he did not manage to raise even a single finger against the other. He only stared, fearful, shocked, in denial.

His brother laughed in the same way he always laughed - a gentle, booming sound, friendly and pleasant, that warmed one's heart.

"You couldn't hurt me if you wanted to with all your being," he mocked him, making the sneering words seem like yet another lighthearted joke as he twirled the Akaku between his fingers: "And isn't that why Tahu and Photok are dead?"

He looked onto the other's face. He'd seen it so few times - after being overwhelmed by the Piraka on Voya Nui, for example.

He remembered it had been awfully surreal, to see it; almost frightening, but familiar somehow.

It stirred nothing in him now.

How lovely.

Pohatu leaned closer to it, until he could feel the shaky breaths from Kopaka's mouth curl around him. They were barely fresh.

"A shame, eh?"

Blue eyes stared at him, horrified.

What a beautiful thing to see.

"That you couldn't save me after all."

He laughed his usual jovial laugh again as he stood up, joints cracking a bit while he stretched. The Akaku clicked onto him in a perfect fit.

How nice of him: pure unwarranted trust, forgiveness, an open door, a hug, and now even a fairly useful Kanohi to replace the one he'd been stripped of lest he use its powers to break himself out of containment. Truly, he was almost starting to feel spoiled.

Kopaka squirmed between his feet. Was he trying to get away?

He couldn't help but giggle.

"There's your only flaws: you're too smart for a leech to bite you."

Pohatu gifted him the sweetest of his smiles.

"And you love your siblings too much."

The air shattered beneath his foot with a sickening crunch.

Pohatu didn't even spare a glance at his brother as he walked away from his corpse, face crushed to bits making an absolute mess on the cold unfeeling pavement, body twitching before the rigor mortis settled in fully; the Toa of Shadow hummed a mindless, cruel song, something right out of a Makuta's repertoire, as he he made his way into the halls of Metru Nui's colosseum in search of whoever else in this enormous playground would have the honorable misfortune to be his second victim of the day.

[ohno-the-sun]

YOU LIKE SIX OF CROWS?!😱😱

One of the best book I read???!

Grabs you

You have no idea how extensive my brain rot is for it

My biggest most though out au is a dca six of crows crossover which I called crime au but no it’s a crossover pftft

I have such a hard time drawing the crows though so I haven’t made much art for it 😭😭

I’m literally foaming at the mouth I have so many ideas and no way to express them raragfa

[loser-jpg]

hate teacher.

so angry.

he told me my 6 months worth of work has to be scrapped and entirely redone in 2 weeks. thats literally impossible. i am the tiniest inconvenience away from having an entire meeting with him to read him a 5 page essay on how he has been of no help this entire semester and last and how he has done nothing but inconvenience me all year.

hes seen the work many times before but only brought up the issue now. 2 weeks before a progress report. He told me the thing hes been having me work on for an entire month cant be part of my progress report because its not specific enough.

IF THIS WAS GOING TO BE A PROBLEM HE WOULD HAVE ALREADY KNOWN AND HE SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME BEFORE I WAS 6 MONTHS IN.

he blatantly holds favoritism as every other student (they all happen to be cis men) get all the help in the world yet i get no help at all and when he tells me i have to scrap all my work he doesnt even point me in the right direction just says redo it you have 2 weeks.

this is a group project but every other group is doing one project with all people working together yet mine is doing one project each person meaning i cant even get assistance. two of the people in my group HAVE NOT SPOKEN A WORD TO ME SINCE THE BEGINNING OF THE YEAR.

he is also needlessly rude. instead of just politely saying there might be an issue he feels the need to make me feel like an idiot for not realizing it sooner. I am half convinced this man finds joy in publicly humiliating and shaming me in any way possible. You are a grown ass man what the actual fuck. You are in your god damn 50s.