You call Steve "punk". Have you ever slipped punk clothing into his closet? Does he wear it?
well, he absolutely refuses to wear combat boots. which i find personally offensive, because i wear steeltoe combats almost every day. but steve insists that having tromped across most of europe in steeltoes and only being saved from trenchfoot thanks to the miracle of old-timey science, he will no longer wear combat boots unless theyre the custom ones that go with his cap costume. sorry. uniform. and that since sneakers exist in the future and are, and i quote ‘like walking around with old mrs mckinneys angel cake for shoes, buck, its great’ he will not be wearing boots if he doesnt have to.
the day we talked him into skinny jeans was pretty great. have you ever seen a dog doing that high-step when you put shoes on them?? he looked like that for the first half hour or so. and then he tried to ‘jog’ up the tower lobby steps, and split his pants open at the crotch.
it was a good day for the ladies (and some of the gents. you know. the ones who didnt immediately grow inferiority complexes) in the lobby of stark tower.
it was not a good day for steve rogers.
putting steve in any kind of plaid just makes him look like a lumberjack, not a punk. so that doesnt work.
steve cant wear black without looking like a vampire, hes so pale. but one time he borrowed my dont-touch-me black leather motorcycle jacket and managed to make that look badass for a little while. and then he let a little girl in central park facepaint a sunflower on his left cheek, which pretty much spoiled and sort of badass look he might have been managing. which wasnt much, because he was still wearing khakis.
Eren never, ever, gets sunburned. Even after a long day of training in the hot sun, while his comrades sizzle, he`s just there, cooking evenly until he`s a nice golden brown. Everyone goes inside bright red, but Eren`s just two shades darker than he was yesterday. Levi always gets sunburned, like a pale vampire, and uses Eren body as a shield whenever he`s out in the sun.
Oh please! Werewolf Anakin and Vampire Obi with the bellyrubs? Perhaps related to the werewolf/vampire image you reblogged?
Sighing a bit, Obi-Wan leveled Mace a look. “I told you all.” He
said before focusing back on Anakin, chuckling faintly as he
continued rubbing his slightly claw like nails through the fur of the
tender belly. “But aren’t you just the softest Anakin, what a
good boy you are.” He cooed, fangs on display as he continued
Beneath the praise and belly rub, Anakin’s huge lupine hind leg
kicked in pleasure, his utter delight filling the Force brightly.
Ever since they had visited Litna III and breathed in the mutagenic
spores Obi-Wan had been showing obvious signs of change, his ears
sharpening into points, his skin growing a porcelain shade of white
dotted with freckles, his canines growing into fangs similar to
togruta’s and his nails sharpening to claw like points.
That had been the obvious outside changes.
There had been changes inwardly too, his eyes and skin more delicate
to direct sunlight, his hearing and sense of smell more sensitive and
Obi-Wan could no longer eat regular food. He required blood to
sustain himself and had almost attacked a fellow Jedi before he had
firmly taken control of himself and gone to the Council.
A form for blood substitute had been produced.
Or at least it was tricking his body into believing he was feeding
off something or someone and he was no longer starving, looking like
his new pale self.
In all honesty, he now resembled the vampire creatures of legends.
But all legends had some truth to them, perhaps others had landed on
Litna before and been mutated in the same way Obi-Wan had been.
Anakin had seemingly walked away unchanged.
Obi-Wan had noticed a change in Anakin, being closest to him.
The fridge had been filled with more meat then usual, on the rarer
side which Anakin was now consuming as much as Ahsoka though she
preferred her meat less bloody. And his growling… well Anakin had
always been growling but the first time he’d heard it Obi-Wan had
looked for a anooba or wolf!
But more disturbing then that was every time they entered the
quarters, how Anakin would hover over him, watching him before
burying his face into Obi-Wan’s neck, sniffing and nuzzling him as
if he was trying to take in the other mans scent.
First time it happened Anakin had trapped Obi-Wan against the door
and his body, warm breath moistening the redhead’s neck.
Anakin had apologized but it had happened again and again until
Obi-Wan just let it happen since it seemed to sooth the blond. He
wasn’t the only one sniffed as Ahsoka was exposed to the same
behavior just the one sniffed the longest and a bit more intimate
with Anakin lodging his nose in the others neck.
Anakin had come back, smelling faintly of Padme but more of sharp
frustration and hurt, leaking into the Force and then Mace had laid
into the knight in the main sparring hall and…. Well.
They had a two meter tall bipedal, golden furred werewolf on their
hands with ice blue eyes and only one arm, Anakin’s mech arm on the
floor since that had not changed with Anakin’s body and rags of
black tunic and leggings hanging off the werewolf. And Anakin’s
only arm had firmly wrapped around Obi-Wan’s waist while snarling
at the Korun, fur bristling and tail sharp as sharp teeth glittered
in the light.
Quick thinking on Obi-Wan’s part had prevented any hasty actions on
anyone’s part as he scratched the werewolf’s stomach, cooing at
him like he would a dog.
And amazingly Anakin had responded to it, grunting as he relaxed and
let himself be soothed until he was flat on his back on the floor
with Obi-Wan scratching at his tummy.
“You were, we just thought it may be related to your own behavior
change though.” Mace noted faintly, staring down at the large
canine. “Force… the Healers did do a blood test on him but we
couldn’t find…he’s a damn werewolf!” Mace rubbed his scalp as
people gathered around them in a minor circle, mostly senior knights
luckily as padawans and initiates were ushered away by teachers and
The sentinels had relaxed too when it was clear Obi-Wan had control
of the werewolf.
“Skywalker?” Mace tried.
He got a grumpy growl for his effort that quickly turned into a
pleased murring when Obi-Wan dug his fingers through golden fur of
his belly, taking in the massive form of bulking muscles and furs as
“Alright, you are somewhat in control then, good to know.”
Obi-Wan reached up to scratch beneath Anakin’s chin. “If he’s
anything like me, he’s more liable to follow instinct to reason
with the baser brain in function. I can generally control myself as
long as I am feed but he’s fully changed, I would recon that means
that while its still Anakin in there, he’s more likely to follow
the predator mind of the wolf in him like this.” He theorized. He’d
have to wait for Anakin to change back to make sure of that.
The way Anakin was tilting his head back to get the chin scratches
was kind of nice, a flow of deep affection filling the Force.
Grinning drolly, Obi-Wan shook his head. “Oh Anakin, how do we end
up in these situations?”
A happy bark was his only answer as Anakin continued kicking his leg
with his tongue lolling out of his mouth, tail wagging in glee.
I feel like every time I’ve done a music meme, The Oh Hellos have popped up… I’m so predictable. Btw, for anyone who’s curious, that amazing lock screen? The work of the inimitable @grapefruitwannabe. She’s the bomb, and she draws an amazing Kagome. (Full piece here.)
sleep deprived, living off pizza, messy hair, zero makeup, and wearing the same clothes that i slept in to class and wore the day before? i guess i’m experiencing all the symptoms of being a college student. but the instant remedy of a snapchat filter will cover all that up lmao
happy late birthday sensei~ i hope you had lots of cake and fyodor during your birthday ^^
The brunet rushed over and knelt besides the executive lying a pool of his own blood with a metal pipe planted deep within his abdomen that pinned him firmly to the ground.
“Chuuya…” Dazai shook his head in disbelief. “How…”
His former partner was the top martial artist of the Port Mafia, and yet, his injuries were too many to count; pale skin marred with red, revealing the inner flesh as fresh blood continued to leak out and stain everything around them..
Meekly opening his eyes, Chuuya sputtered out between strained gasps.
Concern and confusion filled those lightly colord eyes.
Pain glazed over the redhead’s sapphire eyes as the warmth of his blood continued to drip from his wounds, but Dazai’s blood ran cold.
A voice that was dead like his during his days in the Port Mafia. A voice that ran like an icy stream in the middle of winter. A voice that slipped into the mind and echoed there continuously despite all attempts to drive it out.
Chuuya continued to plead, but Dazai had stopped listening the minute the chilling tone had invaded his ears.
The brunet ignored him completely and turned around; darkness flooding into his eyes like a shroud of black bringing his demeanor back to one resembling his mafia days.
“Dostoevsky,” he voiced out in an emotionless tone that still somehow managed to hold a sharp bite.
The Russian greeted him with a cruel smile.
“I hope you enjoyed my welcoming gift.”
Lavender eyes held their gaze in Chuuya’s direction as an amused tone colored the air.
“Red really is his shade isn’t it.”
Keeping his gaze firmly upon the demon before him, Dazai responded in an icy voice.
“Oh I’m sure it would suit you much more.”
Fyodor smiled instead of responding as an explosion drew the detective’s attention away, just in time to watch Yokohama’s signature ferris wheel go down in flames.
Pained shouts continued to ring through the air as Chuuya voiced his pleas for his former partner to leave while Fyodor casually walked over Dazai.
“The more time that passes, the longer this petite executive you’re so very fond of over there is going to suffer…”
Cold rage burned within amber eyes, but not a word left Dazai’s mouth.
Fyodor merely laughed.
“And the longer you wait, trapped under your consistent denial, the more damage inflicted to the city.”
Stepping closer, Fyodor stood merely an inch away from the brunet; delight crossing his pale, vampire like features.
okay so Count of Monte Cristo. I need to talk about the fact that this book is a) so much better than the movie oh my god, and b) fucking ridiculous. I’mma break it down.
it gets off to an IMMEDIATE hell of a start, like “meet Edmond Dantes. everyone likes him and he’s great. his life is about to be ruined!”
blah blah political maneuvering Dantes is a cinnamon roll who has never done anything wrong in his life, people are assholes, have fun in prison forever
this book can only work if you are absolutely 100% onboard with Edmond. building up the unfairness and injustice of it all is so crucial and Dumas does it well
at least at first
he kinda lost me a little while after he got out of jail. with “Sinbad the sailor” (?????????) and the creepy racism of having a mute African servant whose life he saved and is now utterly devoted to him forever even though the only reason he gives for not preventing him from getting his tongue cut out is “I wanted a mute servant.” why????? gross??????
I know Dumas was a POC. if anything that makes it even more uncomfortable. because b r o.
also I’m not sure why we’re focusing on this random swanky rich dude and his friend and their ~~~struggles~~~~~~ getting a coach in Rome during carnival. poor little rich boy???
on the other hand
rich boy sees him at the opera and is like “I must find this strange pale man!!!!”
rich woman: “PLEASE DON’T HE LOOKS LIKE A VAMPIRE”
I am not kidding she genuinely thinks he is a vampire
Dumas please turn this book into a vampire book for a few chapters
I am begging you
we have already had so many genres in this book
for a while it was a devious conspiracy drama!!!
then it was political drama!!!
then it was prison escape!!
then it was shenanigans at sea with a band of smugglers!!
then DIGGING UP BURIED TREASURE!!! which was 100000% my favorite one to the surprise of no one
then it took a weird turn into an ~Arabian Nights legend~~~ fairy tale territory?? literally rich boy called himself Aladdin as an alias??? he woke up the next day and the secret cave had vanished????? I don’t know either???
oh but first he gets super fucking stoned and has a trippy wet dream about statues. I’m not kidding.
now we’re in Rome for Victorian rich people drama! rich boy’s rich friend CAN’T GET LAID and it’s the worst you guys
there was a random story about bandits! it was super disturbing and then weirdly heartwarming?????
what I’m saying is, we can totally do vampires for a bit. I don’t like vampires or vampire stories but it would be so incredible, Dumas I am begging you
I don’t really understand why we’re switching points of view, Edmond was the one he got me to like and now we’re like oh let’s focus on all these random other characters I just made up!!
but still. I’ll allow it. mostly.
follow your dreams. be like Melville. have one chapter randomly be a musical. this is so ridiculous and great. except for the gross weird parts, which are gross and weird.