Just because Trini is just as strong as the other Rangers, it doesn’t mean it (always) makes up for her height.
Like when Kimberly is on Trini’s shoulders to play chicken in Kimberly’s pool against Zack (on the bottom) and Jason (on top), because Trini insists she can handle it and won’t play any other way.
…Except Trini spends the whole time jumping so she doesn’t drown while Kimberly kicks her for continually threatening to lose balance, shouting, “That’s not how you win the game, Trini! For the love of - ! Just let me hold you!” in between Trini’s own (half-burbled) shouts of, “Never! I got this! Just. Stop. Moving, you amazon!”
what if medusa was a real woman. i mean: what if the woman with snakes in her hair was once a tiny girl with beautiful braids in her black hair.
what if the stories came from her smooth hands. when she was six she could make pottery that looked like flowers blooming in your palms. could carefully create replicas of any plant she saw.
and medusa was smart. ran from home, tucked up her hair so it looked short, made herself into a little boy. besides, they liked pretty boys. medusa at school with top grades, sending her unknowable stares at the other men. because the whole time she’s learning the planes of their faces, the way they look while they’re thinking, the slight twist of their hand that meant they were lying.
medusa going home to sketch every little figure. comes to school in the morning with her hands caked in pottery clay. medusa learns. scrubs dirt on her face to mimic their planes. tilts her head the right way when she’s thinking. doesn’t twist her hand when she’s lying.
in her back yard, a little garden grows. statues of ceramic boys only three feet tall. at first, she can’t quite get the faces right. men are not the same as plants. there is something weird about the proportions she uses. medusa frowns.
she starts making animals instead for a bit, annoyed and disheartened. she’d always just been naturally good at it, and the fact she couldn’t just make something felt as if she’d lost her gift.
she makes cats and dogs and her neighbor’s birds and keeps going.
the snake wasn’t her favorite. he just wouldn’t leave her alone, so she gave up and let him sleep on her in the cold nights. besides, he was a small garden snake, couldn’t even bite her hard, just wanted a place of warmth. she let him rest on the angles of her shoulders, right near her neck, even if he sometimes forgot and held her too hard. that was okay. when she was little, she forgot too, sometimes, and shattered the slim walls of her pottery. the snake had a lot of growing up to do.
she loved no one. not because she was cold-hearted. just because it wasn’t something she wanted. she was busy with her artwork.
she chose an apprenticeship under a master craftsman. his sculptures made her breath stop. she was careful in the workshop, kept her things simple, kept her mouth shut. he called her stupid often. she would duck her head. sometimes she would make mistakes on purpose. all the while he only made sculptures of men. said there was no beauty in women. often made savage remarks about those they saw in the market.
and all the while, she watched him. she watched him and she went home and sketched. this is how his hands were when he made a vine. this is how they were when shaping a nose.
and her back yard garden would grow. little boys became her master, over and over and over, until she could get his jaw right. ceramic became sculpture.
he was who took her to athena’s temple. who shouted at her about how beautiful the statues were against her own. every week he’d come back and shame her. asked how the women there were smarter than the man she was supposed to be. medusa ducked her head and grit her teeth.
in her back yard, she made them. she made every god and goddess she’d seen in the city. her favorite was athena. she ached over her features. had spent so long in the world of men, was blinded by the beauty of women.
it was a black night. and medusa thought her master had left the temple before her. she loosened all the bindings that kept her from breathing. took her hair out. worshiped in peace. placed on athena’s alter a small and beautiful thing. the goddess, head tilted, thinking.
when he found medusa, what made him angry was not her small frame. it was the statute. a delicate thing. much better than the ones he had ever made.
he took it and snapped it in half. threw it deep in the temple’s well to rot. pulled her by her hair. demanded to know where it had come from.
medusa, angry, tired of hiding, tired of late nights and being a boy and pretending: medusa, athena-mad, spat on him. “I did it,” her voice is strong and full of hatred, “A woman made something better than a man could.”
He meant to kill her. To bash her head into the temple steps, claim it was an accident - or better yet, the spite of a god made flesh.
when he grabs her hair, the goddess bites back. athena, patron of creators, patron of the arts, patron of girls and those who are smart - she turns medusa’s hair into snakes.
it is a quick little thing, darts out and draws blood, almost falls from her hair as a result. she catches the creature and runs, runs until she feels numb.
and what if - while her master is making up a story about poseidon and athena’s rage, explaining medusa’s back yard full of frozen men as being evidence of her evilness - what if medusa finds friends in blind women. and they teach her how to feel what she is seeing. how to use her hands with her eyes closed to make maps of whatever she holds. she starts with plants again. her snake is big now, and has babies. she moves on to their little wiggling forms, amused when they make tiny rings around her fingers. she does not live in a cave. she dresses as a man again, goes to market, sells her roses and vines and beautiful (simple) things. buys herself and the women a nice house out beyond all the noise of it. fills their garden with frozen men.
when the men come to kill her - because now her name is known, it is whispered, sticks in the throat - they don’t find her. they find a tall man who tells them: look in the mountains. when they don’t come back, it’s no fault of medusa’s. frankly, she thinks they should have brought more supplies than their swords into the deep woods. she’s not cruel. when they leave, she makes a statue of them, as her version of a memorial.
but one man is not like the others. he finds her with her hair down, humming, dancing around a marble stone. her snakes are warming in the sun.
medusa? he asks her. it’s a name she hasn’t heard in a long while.
she is tired of being hunted. she just wants to make art. she waits for the sword point. but he hesitates. looks at her full in her face.
strikes a bargain. if she makes him a head for his shield, he will tell the others that she is good and dead. and he will sell her art to better patrons when he could - although he suggests at least hiding the signature she has with maybe a little less snake-like scrawl - he would make her name known.
but medusa knows men. knows they will chomp down on a horror story faster than that of the artist. she is already permanent. she says: no, here’s what happens.
after many months, he has his shield. she wouldn’t let him leave with the first nine hundred versions, always found something wrong with them. he grows fond of her in this time, agrees to her terms. even he can’t really look at the shield head-on. she has captured a scream, a rage, too much. it is so utterly human and at once not that it makes his skin crawl.
where medusa’s blood drops, serpents sprawl. or at least, that’s the code she uses. when he finds little girls who can make art, he sends them to her.
medusa does not expect to be known for the school that she starts. she is a women artist in a time of men, and her name is already dead to them. but i know medusa. i know her. she is known for her work.
after all, who can speak about medusa without mentioning how she froze the world?
So i think you might like to hear what draconic langue in my game so my two players that are dragon borns got in a cussing match but the actual players use British slang and gestures so now the draconic langue is now British insults and hand gestures
For example the two were fighting over how to fight a boss
Gold (in common) im tired of ur shit man
Silver(in common) yea but at least im using my brain
Our cleric starts to get uncomfortable and looks like they are gonna cry
Gold(in common) lets use our native tongue to finish this
Silver(in draconic) OI FINE MATE ILL BASH YE HEAD IN I SWER ON ME MUM
Gold(in draconic) oi mate ya fukn wanker at lest shes not a gerbil and my father dosent smell of elderberrys (flips off silver)
I received a request by a close friend to make this prompt into a Klangst fic, and I can only say that this is the best that I can do. “I’m Sorry” part 3 will be up sometime by tomorrow, probably in the late afternoon. I know you guys want more but unfortunately, I’m still working on it. I’m sorry I swear I’ll get it up soon and I’ll put all my effort into making the story enjoyable. If you guys want to see Klangst I’ll do my best to keep that a part of the fic and if I don’t get it right or don’t live up to your expectations I am so sorry. I’ll try really hard to make you all happy. I swear.
They had no idea how many fighters there would really be.
They had underestimated Lotor’s ability to take lead of the war, while his father was recuperating from the severe beating Voltron had given him.
Overall, Voltron was outnumbered. They were unable to keep up with the multitude of jets, which seemed to be a never-ending fleet.
Shiro pushed them to the brink, and finally, they were able to take out enough ships to give them an opening.
Hunk used his Bayard to form his shoulder cannon, taking out the ion cannons on a majority of the warships, forcing Lotor to pull back his fleet and retreat.
But not before Blue was shot by a fleeing fighter jet.
Somehow, the laser cut through Blue, shattering through her cockpit and nailing Lance in the back. Blue lurched forward, feeling Lance’s pain.
The right side of Lance’s torso was burned. The team was so wrapped up in the exhilaration of victory, they didn’t notice Lance choking back pain filled sobs. He suppressed them and began laughing along with the others, ignoring his own agony. They didn’t need to deal with the knowing he was hurt when they were so happy. He felt blood trickle down his chin, and he knew he had bashed his head against the controls when Blue lurched.
Lance shook his head, feeling just how quickly the pain overcame him. He choked but swallowed back any form of distress.
“We did it!” Pidge exclaimed excitedly, whooping victoriously along with Hunk’s victory dance.
“Nice job team!” Shiro complemented proudly, smiling as he turned his lion around, flying back towards the castle, and a well earned resting period. Allura smiled proudly at the paladins, her face popping up on the intercoms in front of each paladin.
Lance’s attempts at concealing his pain were in vain. Allura noticed almost immediately.
“Well done paladins! Come quickly so that we may celebrate! I’ll open the hall of lions once you are all directly outsi- Lance?!” Allura’s worried tone sliced through the intercoms and all the paladins’ focuses were on Lance’s screen in a split second.
The paladins all periodically enlarged the screen.
“Hey, guys! W-we did it!” Lance laughed uneasily, trying to cover his wound. But blood was more difficult to conceal, as was the immediate agony of moving, blossoming across his face.
“Shit- everyone get back to the castle! Lance- do you think you can make it in time?!” Shiro shouted, the terror of losing Lance overcoming him. He had never sworn in front of the others before, and that was enough to send them into a panic. Pidge and Hunk were on the verge of tears, and Keith’s anxiety held him teetering over the edge of oblivion that was his mind.
Lance grinned, but slowly, his eyes shut, and his head fell forward.
Anxiety bloomed in everyone’s chest, and Shiro was that much closer to a panic attack.
“Lance?! ” Shiro all but screamed, leaning forward in his cockpit chair, seemingly trying to reach out to Lance through the screen. Blue started moving, but Lance, seemingly lifeless, did not move an inch on the intercoms.
“The blue lion is piloting itself?!” Pidge exclaimed, confusion and dread evident in their tone. Blue sped towards the Castle.
“Follow Blue! Hurry!” Keith shouted, turning Red around swiftly, immediately flooring it. He flew to the Castle at an alarming speed, with Pidge and Hunk right behind him. Shiro, shaken from the sudden realization Lance might not have made it, was a little slow on catching up with the others. He shook the thoughts away in denial.
‘He has to make it. He has got to be okay.’ Shiro thought, speeding after the others.
Blue all but smashed through the hangar doors, much to Allura’s shock, and flew directly to her landing point.
Blue landed safely, careful not to shake too much, intending not to hurt Lance any further, and once she had, she turned all her energy towards waking him.
‘Wake, my Blue paladin. Your teammates need you.’ Blue nudged Lance into consciousness, and he reluctantly complied. He shook his head, attempting to shake away the feelings of agony. Blue supported his attempts by forcing positive emotions into his thought process.
He felt exceedingly better and was even capable enough to rise out of his piloting chair, afterward making his way to the cockpit’s exit.
Keith spun Red into landing position, opened the cockpit, and booked it, running towards Lance as fast as he possibly could.
“Lance?! Lance?!” Keith, Hunk, and Pidge all ran to the Blue Lion, their feet slamming into the cold metal floors of the Castle. Blue’s eyes dimmed, and Keith was on the verge of a mental breakdown.
“Please be okay, please be okay…” Keith heard Shiro mutter, finally landing Black into the hangar and hopping out quickly. Shiro caught up almost immediately, soon followed by a worried Coran and a panicked Allura.
“Not Lance… Anyone but Lance.” Hunk whispered to himself breathlessly, tears threatening to spill. Keith tried his best to keep his mind from wandering to dark thoughts about Lance’s state.
They skidded to a halt. Blue’s cockpit was opening.
Out stumbled Lance, and Keith tricked himself into feeling relief- until he saw the blood.
There was so much of it.
The crimson substance trickled out of his mouth, down his arm, and there was blood all across his torso. His forehead had blood dripping down the right side of it. His usually soft brown hair was a tangled mess, matted against his head due to all the blood.
“Lance?” Keith’s voice cracked.
Lance looked so pale. His knees were shaking. His breathing was uneven. His blue eyes looked so empty. And yet, he still managed to pull off his winning smile without a hitch. Keith’s stomach lurched.
“Yup. In all my wounded, bloody glory.” Lance chuckled, his expression littered with pain.
“We need to get you to the healing pods.” Keith ran forward, and as soon as he got close enough, he lifted Lance into his arms bridal style. Lance’s breathing hitched, but when Keith looked down at him, he smirked.
“Who knew the hotheaded Keith could be such a gentleman?” Lance chuckled, and Keith almost blushed.
“I don’t need a pickup line right now Lance- I need you to keep your eyes open and stay alive.” Keith lifted an eyebrow, lifting one arm slightly. Lance gasped, an agonizing pain shooting through his spine from the faint movement.
Keith stared down at the agony-ridden Lance and finally took a good look at the wound.
zimbits. “Less homicidal thoughts about your annoying coworker right now, please. I’m in a meeting over here.” pLEASE
Charlie asked for this about 30 years ago but I’m just getting around to it now. It’s prompt from this list.
If he thinks I’m going to let a single tart anywhere near his ruinous Trump-sized hands he’s got another thing coming. Actually, no. He can have as many tarts as he wants. Kill ‘em with kindness, and arsenic worked into the whipped cream. I’d have to add more vanilla to balance it out but–
If Jack wasn’t in a sponsorship meeting, he would be inclined to promptly bash his head into the wood of the table. It had been like this for a few weeks ago, a voice filtering in at the most inopportune times, going on diatribes against who he was presuming was the voice’s coworker (”–even the way he counts out change is annoying. The Lord is testing me. We should’ve kept the antique register, it would have hurt more when I ‘accidentally’ shut the drawer on his fingers that he just licked to count out the bills. Yes, I would LOVE my spit covered change. THANK YOU.”)
Unfortunately, Jack thought it was unlikely that NIKE would appreciate their new brand ambassador actively giving himself a concussion, so he shot the representative across the table a smile and nodded to whatever was being said before reverting back inside his head.
As ambitious as your assassination attempt is, if you could keep it to yourself I would appreciate it.
There wasn’t even a moments pause before he got his reply.
@prettychritty requested: Can I please get a fluffy soulmate au with got7 Jackson, like where their soulmate’s first word is written on their wrist? And he’s an idol and you’re a fan and you guys meet at a fanmeet? Sorry if it seems confusing 😅 Thank you 💕
having, expressive of, or characterized by intense feeling; passionate; fervent: ardent love.
Pairing: Jackson Wang x Reader
Genre: Fluff + Soulmate AU
Word Count: 2.42k
Authors Note: I have no idea how this is gonna be, but i hope you like it lmao… i really hope i made it so fluffy that you feel like cringing but still enjoy it o’ dearest one, please enjoy it.
Looking back on your past, your life has never been anything out of the ordinary. Although your parents had left you on one mysterious night, leaving you little to no explanations, you live out the rest of your years residing in a new town under the custody of your aunt. That is, until you return to your hometown to investigate the whereabouts of your parents during your senior year in high school. It was that fateful decision that led you to find a boy collapsed on your front porch one night, wounds gaping and life fading when your entire life is spun out of control. Somehow being dragged into a life of crimes in the underground business of his, you discover the twisted secrets hidden behind the world you thought you had known all along.
Requested:@wjishing-jimin said: HIII may i request like a boyfriend thingy with jimin but his gf is like way younger like 8 years younger it smtg BAHHAHA tyy❤️
Summary: The members aren’t a fan of the age gap in Jimin’s new relationship and as they tell him why, you overhear.
A/N: my first off anon request~ I hope you liked it! I did bump Jimin’s age up by a few years to make this legal
“Chim, you haven’t paid me attention in like an hour,” Jimin looked down at you before he ruffled your hair with a smile, pulling you further into his lap as he stroked your hair, his eyes no longer glued to the movie playing as he’d glance down at your satisfied smile. The boys glanced between them in worry and knew they needed to speak to Jimin soon about his new relationship with you.
black riddler is so good y’all just the aesthetic, sharp green eyes that are almost glowing would be such a nice contrast against black skin especially a darker skinned guy. green or purple sweater vest. green undershirt with the sleeves rolled up. bowtie. always smirks at you and has a way of making you feel inferior without even having to say anything. he’s a skinny guy but he can go from flirting and quizzing you with riddles to bashing your head in with his question mark cane so fast.
Nettie is eating ice cream. The cold burns against her silver incisor, but feels good against the small cut inside her mouth she’d gotten last week. It’s an even trade.
Nettie is all about even trades.
Most think that they liked to be paid in money. Old money, sure, gold and silver that doesn’t have the same sort of inflation risk as paper, but that implies that they have something to spend it on.
No, Nettie’s maybe the only one who knows what sort of things monsters like to be paid in and is willing to provide it. Which is why she’s sitting in the middle of a park at 3 am waiting for her contact to arrive.
At 3:03, her contact’s preferred meeting time, the fog rolls in. Nettie rolls her eyes as it creeps through the sparse trees ahead of her, turning the grass silver under the moonlight with precipitation. So dramatic and not at all secretive. Her eyes flick up to the security camera mounted on the lamppost across the street. She wonders when the government will admit they see monsters at night. She hopes it’s not in her lifetime.
That’d be bad for business.
The outline of a tree several yards away from her begins to waver. It looks like someone might be behind it, a darker band appearing around the trunk as if someone is hugging it. Then they’re gone and the same wavering, black shadow appears behind a tree several feet ahead of it.
Nettie watches and eats her ice cream, glad that her leather jacket is hiding the way her arm hair is standing on end. She’s never been the type to hide her fear.
Then she met beings who enjoyed it.
A dark pool in front of her widens, the shadows twisting upwards. She calmly takes a bite of the cone as the shade forms, the shadow creature not stopping until it’s reached its full height at seven feet.
She feels the sensation of pumice in her mind and frowns. “Gren? Where’s Mandy?”
The shadow figure ripples, for once not kicking up a fuss at her nicknames for them. An orange light flares briefly in what one might assume was its hand but she knew to be its mouth.
Last night I asked people to guess my favorite Hetalia character and at least 60 pple guessed BUT NOT A SINGLE PERSON GUESSED CHINA I’m so sad!!!!
He threw a tantrum and bashed his head against a wall and the wall crumbled!!! He is smol but strong and adores cute things!!! He repeatedly hit an ancient dragon with a Hello Kitty plush!! HE. HAS. A. PONY. TAIL. CMON NOW GUYS
The paladins introduce Allura to the age-old Earthling game of truth or
dare. Keith shares unwelcome knowledge about his sex habits. Hunk may or
may not eat a sock. Somehow, sexual tension and relief ensues. Also,
there are jokes.
i apologize for the memes, but be aware, it’s about 80% jokes, 20% smut