Why Do Hippos Look Like The Epitome Of The Word 'blub'

"i kissed a girl once when i was 12" is kind of a losing response anyways

.eternal ballerina sailor neptune

and the next one in line is my fav, sailor neptune <3 beauty and grace~

Space (I see you)

Danny has a space core, in the beginning he thought he has an ice core, but it turns out that because he had been highly stressed since his death his core had been underdeveloped and only showed certain aspects to keep him healthy.

Years have passed his 14 birthday (death-day)

He was now 17 and had grown into his core which had revealed a lot about him.

For example, being the Ancient of space distorted his entire view of everything. After all space was everywhere and ever growing, expanding more and more.

Danny could feel himself in his physical halfa body,

But at the same time he was watching people on the other side of the planet: laughing, dancing, celebrating, crying, being born, dying,mourning, and going about their day.

That was only on this Earth he could see every Earth that exists.

Earth was such a small part of space.

He could feel & see entire solar systems, galaxies, nebulae.

More & more

Just continuing to expand

Never ending

As he got older he could understand more his connection to everything.

Being able to help life be born on other planets

Moving moons towards planets

Creating star nurseries

Everything at his grasp

~

This would cause him to let his mind wander away from his physical form, which just looked like he was spaced out.

His human form slipping slightly when he does: freckles gaining a glow and moving to form different constellations, his hair moving like if it were weightless, and his eyes

Don't stare too long at his eyes

After all the eyes are the window to the soul

And his hold too much

(Look away)

~

Danny casually watches a meteor shower hundreds of light years away, spaced out: Ooh pretty!

The poor goon who taught he could mug a careless teen and stared at his eyes for too long: *Twitching on the ground foaming at the mouth*

~

Danny who hasn't blinked in a few minutes: "The pretty space station with heroes in it just made a full orbit on top of us again!"

Tim next to him who's just waiting in line for a cup of coffee or 3: *panicked side eyes him* Wh-What?

~

Batman: "We have to find who's taking out all these criminal."

Danny who looks like a Wayne kid therefore getting regularly kidnapped (or at least attempted), focusing on making a good star nursery: " Shhh! I'm concentrating"

Villain & his goons dropping like flies: "Mercy!"

~

Just an Idea

a secret’s ability to protect

bsd boys x reader 

wc : 3.k (it was not meant to be this long- oops)

warnings : violence, blood, minor deaths, very brief suicide mention (Dazai)

synopsis : not all secrets hurt

Keep reading

Yk that lava girl fix you made? I thought about how she can cover herself in lava..what if rain and water hurt her?

During fighting a super evil villain with bakugou (they're married) he starts speeding out rain and it injured her badly turning parts of her skin that was touched into sort of obsidian?

✨️these are really good questions that made me think of them for a few days so i could imagine the actual answers~

This is mostly what I took as inspiration for Y/N in this drabble:

Her body elevates in temperature to the point were you can see the lava running through her body, and her hair becomes complete lava, long locks or stings of lava she can use as weapon to capture things or villains (if the villain is something like those monsters of metal–she is not that heartless to burn people alive, even if they are villains).

Because she is basivally lava, the general answer is yes, Y/N can't fight in her lava form when it's raining. It actually hurts when her body transforms into obsidian–which is hard rock. I imagine that she becomes really good at fighting in her normal-human body so when this type of weather comes, she actually doesn't need to use her lava–if it's not for forming some kind of refugee or it's actually useful to help other heroes and civilians. She just stays on the helping civilians and rescue team during that kind of weather.

But I also imagined the first time Bakugou saw Y/N become obsidian because a villain threw water at her. He almost lost it when he heard your painful scream as you suddenly became rock. Like a statue, figure laying on the floor, hugging yourself in fetal position because of the pain. And nothing but simple rock.

He saw red. He went on a rampage, vengeance mode, so ready to tear and break and kill, that Deku and Red Riot had to interfere.

The villain was sent to the hospital, with custody of course. And Dynamight... he fell to his knees by your side, tears streaming down his face, body trembling with adrenaline and pain. You have told him water was your weakness, but he had never imagined it to this point. He didn't know it could kill you. He could have been more conscious, more careful of what villains crossed your path. He could have done so many things. He could–

The rock that surrounds you starts to break, the sound making everyone at the scene gasp as it moves. Bakugou doesn't understand what's happening...until it finally breaks completely and you emerge, taking a deep, long breath, in your normal form.

He watches you with big, wet eyes, almost not believing what he's seeing, as you say, "Fuck! Well that fucking hurt..."

People around start to clap and laugh because you're so... you.

And Bakugou feels... like he can breathe again. Like all that pain he felt seconds ago just dissipates in the air like the smoke that came from the rock breaking and making you born again, like a Phoenix rebirth from its ashes, so beautiful and so majestic.

He looks down and sobs, which immediately alerts the rest of the heroes and they start to pull everybody away from the scene.

"Oh, baby, I'm okay..." your arms surround his neck and he instantly reacts, hugging you back and hidding his face in your chest and neck.

Least to say, that image, Dynamight kneeling on the ground crying, with his wife comforting him, were the talk of the month. And what actually gave him the stop of Number One Pro Hero on the list for almost six months, until Deku beat him again with some other bullshit he did. But at this point, no one is concerned about the spots on that list. Dynamight and Deku go up and down between the first and second place all the time.

That is, until Y/N finally gets her breakthrough and wins first place for almost 5 years in a row.

And Bakugou can't shup up about how awesome his wife is.

Cw blood///

Gives you a vampire yui. I’m having yui brainrot rn I love yui

Brb it’s exams times

Video skit is by thepandaredd, I just added open captions

Lemme know if there’s anything I can fix up 👍

Back at it again obsessed with this dude who appeared on my feed one day

@moyazaika ‘s oc respectively <3

I PICTURE IT SOFT, AND I ACHE JASON TODD (college!au)

↳ on being a wallflower, and the despair of the life you haven't lived

You’re silent in the car as Jason drives you home. It’s a little after eleven, and the streets are only beginning to fill up, traffic downtown stilted and loud with the roar of Saturday nightlife. Girls in short dresses run across the road, boys flanking them, hands shoved in jacket pockets and chatting casually. A car makes a turn that makes you absently wonder its legality. 

Red washes over you, blinks of yellow as the passing street lights spill into through the window. Your eyes unfocus, open and unseeing except of softened edges and hazy shapes. The blinker is a repetitive sound in the silence, an on and off clicking weaving in between your jagged breaths.

You can only see the ballerina in your mind, and your lips part as if to gather a breath but your throat tightens and you feel sick with wanting. Only hours ago, hadn’t you been sat in this seat, excited and unable to stop it from pouring forth? You’d talked Jason’s ear off, when the sun had only just become to come down, when the light had dappled through the oak leaves outside the restaurant and painted everything in whimsy shades of red and gold, sunlight cast onto cobblestone like a storybook town.

You’d walked side by side on the brick path, shoulders brushing every so often as you swayed into him, the tide pulled to the moon. You’d filtered into the theatre, whispering and stepping carefully into the row, warming at the proximity of his arm to yours. You’d bent your heads together and laughed quietly. 

How’d you end up here?

Jason takes a breath and it sounds muffled to your ears, only half filtering in through the buzzing in your head. “...you okay?”

You blink slowly, tipping your head. The ballerina turns in your mind, frozen under the stage lights in an eternal pirouette, arms held above her head. You think of her, so close you could reach out and touch the planes of her face.

Your fingers touch your own cheek, limbs leaden and clumsy. 

You think of the crowded theatre, jagged spots from the mirrorball cast over the crowd blanketed in dark crimson–the lights, or your own cuts opening over in the middle of the show? You’d felt like an open wound, sitting limply watching the figures spin across the stage, shimmering, radiant.

And at the centre of it, her.

You feel your face heat, shame and desire clouding your vision. She stands, spotlight cast on beautiful features, eyes glittering and cheeks flushed. A hand raised in a wave, hair falling straight in an umber curtain, plastic crown resting heavy upon a head meant to wear something realer. You hear her friends in the rows surrounding you, a cacophony of her name crowed from all across the theatre. 

Beautiful, beloved. 

The syllables echo in your head.

You’re in the car, and you’re back there, wallflower in a rickety theatre seat, just another face in a sea of hundreds all gazing at the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen. Do you want to be her? Brilliant, bright and beautiful. Fearless and magnetic, and…everything. Or, you think, watching her blow a kiss to another girl in the crowd, is it her eyes on you that you long for?

You don’t know the answer, aching, squirming in your seat and wishing you’d never come at all. What is it about you, you wonder, what is the matter with you, deep-seated and unrelenting. 

So close you could reach out and touch her, yet light years away.

Fingers brush your face and you blink, realising the car has stopped. You turn to your classmate, whose eyes are far more serious than they ever have been, a frown knitting the junction between his brows. 

“You’re crying,” he murmurs. 

You reach up and your fingers come away wet, water gathering on your fingertip. 

“Oh,” you say, feeling your face grow warmer, mortified. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, turning in his seat to face you fully. A warm hand comes to cradle your face and you screw your nose up in an effort to compose yourself. 

But the ballerina spins, and spins, and you see her frozen smile, pretty eyes unflinching under the spotlight. Water splashes onto Jason’s wrist and you hiccup, pressing your fingers to your mouth.

“Hey,” he whispers, thumb skimming beneath your eye. His touch leaves a trail of star bursts in its wake, blooming curls of heat igniting beneath your skin. A sob catches in your throat. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

You feel a little pathetic as you stare back at him, something wounded in your chest that feels to you as though it bleeds from you with every blink of your eyes. 

“I don’t know,” you murmur, through stuttered breaths, shaking your head. He remains steady, palms cradling you.

“That’s okay,” he assures. “It’s okay. Can you take a breath for me?”

You frown through your tears. “I am.”

He smiles wryly. “Humour me. Deep breath, just one.”

You do, inhaling deeply, and exhaling. He nods with the rise and fall of your chest. “That’s it. Take another one for me.”

He lets go of you to pick up the waterbottle in his cupholder, screwing open the lid and pressing it into your hands. The metal is cold, the water even colder and Jason is unfazed when you press your mouth to the lip of his bottle, a hand settling on the back of your neck comfortingly. 

“You wanna talk about it?” Jason asks, when all that’s left of your tears are the stains on your cheeks, your eyelashes wet. 

You look up and find his eyes on you, more green than blue in this light, watching, gauging. Don’t, you want to say, don’t look at me. What happens when you find something you don’t like?

“Not really,” you whisper. He doesn’t bat an eyelid, only nodding, like he’d expected as much. But he doesn’t withdraw, hand still on the back of your head like he might cuff a brother, so close your forehead risks bumping against his. You can smell the gum he’d been chewing on earlier, fading notes of spearmint in the air.

“That’s okay. We’ll stay here til you feel better,” he says easily. You take a breath in. 

You stay. 

Maybe one day, you think, looking at him. Maybe one day, the words will come easier to you. You think it may come sooner than you believe, if he continues to work his way through your defences, dismantling each brick so sweetly you believe it may not even be his hand they fall under, but yours. 

For now, you sit in the car, forehead pressed to your new friend’s, and counting his breaths til yours match.

author's note: the other day i stood on the side of a street while waiting for my bus and there was a boy sitting in a restaurant across the street, eating by himself. and i don't know why, but it made me ache a little bit, as i'm prone to do in the spring. so much of life lately has been spent people watching, always sitting on the bus at dusk and watching the glow of homes lit pass by, orange and blue, orange of hearths and hallways and restaurants. it's one of my favourite times to go home, just as everything begins to darken, but it also feels a little sad.

i think there's a lot of longing in being the watcher, a lot of loneliness in being the one to keep the records, in a sense. because if you are the watcher, who sees you? even if it's all you know, and it's something you're comfortable in, sometimes it creeps in, and you're struck with that feeling of reverting to a child once again when you see large groups of friends and people sharing a meal and girls holding hands. always on the outside, always passing by, never the one in the window. jersey boy! reader is a love letter to those parts of myself, i think, just as daddy's money was. i'm sorry for rambling, but i hope this bit of seriousness gives you guys a bit more of our reader.