Being able to sleep in almost any situation or position
Irresistible urge to chase squirrels and rabbits
Hating the vacuum cleaner
Wanting to do everything with friends
Loudly and repeatedly announcing to housemates that someone is at the door
Long, shouted conversations to other werewolves across the neighborhood (bonus points at 2am)
Taking advantage of any and all free food
Werewolf-vampire solidarity
Fighting any animal that trespasses into the backyard
Boundless energy
Too much energy
Eating out of the trash if it smells tasty
Being bad at sports because you don’t want to let anyone else take the ball from you. Then destroying the ball in front of everyone because you want to make a point
Trying to fight things 10x your size like a fucking idiot
Being unable to hold a grudge for more than a few hours
Trying to make people feel bad for you over mundane things that aren’t actually that bad. And somehow succeeding.
Snoring
Needing to try a bit of your friends’ food, even if you’ve tried it 5645674 times before and have never once liked it
Getting way too friendly with random strangers
Being in a love-hate relationship with water
Digging. For no reason.
Thinking you’re a badass despite being a hyperactive ball of emotions and hedonism
Loud sobbing while pressing yourself up against the sliding glass door at your friends who locked you out because they were tired of your bullshit and wanted some goddamn peace and quiet
Okay this one is a gem:
“
Loudly and repeatedly announcing to housemates that someone is at the door
“
“Thinking you’re a badass despite being a hyperactive ball of emotions and hedonism”
-literally me
I’ve had the idea for a werewolf/monster story bouncing around for a while now, so I must save these.
I’m gonna try to use all of these for my werewolf stories. Especially that sliding glass door one.
where a grad student becomes a supervillain for extra credit since their doctoral committee is lowkey three of the city’s supervillains. and they meet the hero who is cute and charming and idealistic. and damn, extra credit is so not worth this. but damn, grad school is expensive and the job market is competitive
“there’s good in you”
“i really think all that’s in me at this point is ramen, red bull and spite”
I WOULD BUY THIS NOVEL
“My question is, what happened that you could turn to the dark side?”
“I failed.”
“What did you fail? Yourself? Your family? Your lover?”
“No, Developmental Biology.”
“And now with the city asleep, I’ll finally be able to steal enough money to pay off my student loans!”
-Morgana Macawber, Darkwing Duck Season 1, Episode 30: Goul of My Dreams
Concept: one of those “mediocre white boy learns the secrets of ancient martial arts” movies, except the martial art in question is traditional Scottish kickboxing. The wise old mentor speaks with an indecipherable Highland accent and spends the whole film in a full kilt for no particular reason.
Starring Mark Hamill as Angus McGonagall, the Argyle Gargoyle.
I dunno, I’d be inclined to get someone who’s actually Scottish for the role. How much would we have to pay Colin Mochrie not to skip leg day?
I forget, is Sean Connery just straight-up not available as an actor anymore?
OKAY SO BACK IN 6TH GRADE I CREATED THIS VILLAINOUS, NEFARIOUS, WRETCHED OC CALLED “THE PEEL”
IT’S LITERALLY JUST A BANANA PEEL WITH AN ANGRY FACE DRAWN ON IT THAT GOES scoot-scoot-scoot ACROSS THE FLOOR AND TRIPS RANDOM PEOPLE AND RUINS THEIR DAY
…is it crazy I kinda want to see post-Vader Anakin being set up for a blind date?
The whole thing is Han’s idea.
When he first suggests it to Leia, he says he wants to do something nice for the old man, which as cover stories go is frankly terrible. Leia only raises an unimpressed eyebrow. It’s such a bad excuse it doesn’t even deserve a response.
Finally Han gives it up and admits that, okay, fine, he just can’t stand watching Rustbucket get flirted at every time they’re all dragged to some gala or top brass event. Anakin’s clueless act is just embarrassing, and worse, Chewie thinks it’s funny, that traitor.
Leia just goes on looking at him. Luke, though, says, “Uh, Han, I don’t think it’s an act.”
Han stares at him. “Oh come on, kid. No one is that clueless.” Then he stops to consider this, and who he’s talking to. Luke is a very friendly person, and very bad at recognizing the line between friendly and flirting. Half the Rebellion wants to date him and as near as Han can tell, he genuinely has no idea. But still… “Okay, fine, maybe some people are. But your old man was married. He managed to produce the two of you somehow. So he can’t be completely unaware of how these things go.”
Leia snickers at him. Han has the sinking feeling she knows something he doesn’t, but he knows better than to ask when she gets that look in her eye.
So he decides he’s gonna set Anakin up on a date, and Leia can laugh all she wants. He’ll be the one laughing when it works.
His first attempt is a guy named Rav who used to work maintenance in one of the hangars on Home One. These days he’s planetside on Coruscant. Nice guy, a few years older than Anakin, green eyes, a great ass. Han arranges the date at a bar so chill he frankly hates the place himself, but it seems like the kind of scene an older couple might enjoy. (Anakin’s only thirteen years older than you, a little voice in the back of his head says, but he ignores that. It’s too weird to let himself think about.) He tells Anakin that Rav wants to meet up and talk shuttle maintenance, which is such a damn obvious innuendo that he barely manages to restrain a cringe as he says it.
But hey, it works, and Anakin’s off to meet with Rav and Han congratulates himself on a job well done. Leia’s still smirking, but that’s just because she hasn’t yet learned what a great matchmaker he is.
Anakin swings back by Leia’s apartment about three hours later, early enough that Luke’s still there and Han is just a little worried. But it was only a first date, so…that doesn’t have to be bad, does it?
“How’d it go, Rustbucket?” he says.
Anakin shrugs easily and heads for the kitchen to start a pot of tzai. “Not bad. Rav’s got some great ideas for B- and Y-wing class fighters, but his views on TIEs are woefully misinformed.” He grumbles something under his breath. “I understand that there’s a need to bad mouth the enemy fighters in front of the troops, but you don’t need to buy into your own propaganda.”
Han blinks a little. Luke and Leia are snickering behind their hands, and for once, it’s real damn easy to see that they’re twins. He glares at them both.
“Well, all right, but…what about the, uh, social aspect?”
“Huh?” Anakin comes into the living room and sits in the chair across from Han and Leia’s couch. Han can never get over how the guy just…sprawls when he sits. It’s about the least Vader-like mannerism he can think of.
“Did you hit it off?” Han asks.
A brief frown crosses Anakin’s face. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t mind another chance to correct his opinions on TIEs.” Suddenly he brightens, “I did manage to get him the bartender’s number, though, and I’m pretty sure they’re going out this weekend, so I suppose that’s my good deed for the day.” He says this last very dryly. It’s something his therapist suggested, taking notice of his good deeds and letting himself be proud of them or something like that, and Anakin always snarks about it but Han is pretty sure he’s also following his therapist’s advice, so that’s something.
Anyway, that’s clearly not the important thing here. “Wait,” he sputters. “You…set Rav up on a date…with the bartender?”
Leia looks positively gleeful now and Han is pretty sure she didn’t plan this, but if it turned out she did he wouldn’t even be surprised.
Anakin, though, doesn’t seem to understand what’s got Han in such a fuss. “Sure,” he says with another shrug. “They made a cute couple.”
“I don’t believe this,” Han mutters. What kind of guy plays wingman for his own date? He scrapes a hand over his face and resolves to hold on to whatever dignity he can. “Okay, so Rav’s not your type, huh?”
Anakin only looks at him with an expression of such genuine confusion that Han can’t even convince himself the guy’s pretending. “My type of what?” he says.
A loud snort of laughter escapes Leia, and she tries to play it off as a sneeze. Han isn’t impressed.
“Never mind,” he mutters, and eventually the conversation moves on, but he knows Leia isn’t going to forget about this anytime soon.
*
So okay. Maybe he made a bad call with that first try. Maybe Anakin’s only interested in women? It’s a possibility. Fine. So this time Han will have to find the right woman.
He considers his options carefully. Luke and Leia’s mom was a politician and a founder of the Rebel alliance, smart as hell and also pretty damn stunning. (Leia definitely takes after her mother, he thinks, without the slightest hint of a goofy grin, no matter what Chewie says.) She must have had a terrible sense of humor though. Either that or she put up with Anakin’s awful jokes out of some never before heard of reservoir of patience and goodness. Actually, the way Anakin talks about her, that might be true.
So he’s looking for someone smart, driven, principled, but also somehow willing to endure endless terrible puns. That’s a tall order.
The first person he tries is Mon Mothma. It takes him a couple weeks to work up to asking her, because yeah, there’s nothing about this idea that isn’t awkward. But he’s got to admit, she does fit the profile.
So eventually he gets up the guts to suggest the idea of a date, and Mon Mothma laughs in his face.
Well, Han thinks, muttering to himself and wishing he could erase the last fifteen minutes of his life from existence. In hind sight, that was a pretty stupid idea. He’s never even heard of Mon Mothma going on a date.
“You’ve never heard of Dad going on a date either,” Luke says, smirking. Not for the first time, Han wonders what the hell he was thinking, making Luke his confidant in this. But he needed someone with more insight into Anakin, and he’d be damned if he’d ask Leia.
“That’s different, obviously,” Han says. “He spent twenty years inside a tin can.”
Luke rolls his eyes. “I just don’t understand why you won’t let this go,” he says.
“Because people are always flirting with him!” Han says. “And he’s always pretending not to notice. It’s infuriating.”
“It doesn’t happen that often,” Luke says, and okay, Han thinks, that’s actually true, but still. It happens often enough.
Luke sighs. “If you’re so stuck on that, why don’t you just ask one of the people who’s actually flirted with him?”
Huh. That’s not a bad idea, actually. Why didn’t he think of that.
*
It still takes him a while to plan his strategy, but eventually he manages to set Anakin up on a date with a woman named Meera Yasko. She’s Corellian, he’s pretty sure, but she’s also whip smart and pretty attractive. She’s some kind of attorney at a non-profit or something, and Han’s never been especially keen on people of the legal persuasion, but he figures Anakin might like that.
The old man takes a bit of convincing, but Han is a master of smooth talking (don’t laugh, Leia!) and eventually he gets them set up at a nice swank restaurant and even orders a bottle of wine for the table as a surprise.
*
Anakin comes back from this date a lot more excited, and Han experiences a fleeting moment of smug hope, only to have it crushed beneath Anakin’s heel when it turns out the man is excited for all the wrong reasons.
Apparently, Meera is the chief counsel at a non-profit involved in education for underprivileged youth, whatever the hell that means. They’re an interplanetary organization, too, but it’s not the organization itself that really interests Anakin. Meera has the legal background to cover all of the complicated bits about starting a foundation that Anakin doesn’t really understand (and Han understands even less, if he’s honest), and he thinks they might really be able to get this off the ground.
“Wait,” says Han. “This? What’s this?”
He expects a glare or an eyeroll from Leia and maybe Luke, but instead, they look as curious as he feels.
“Oh,” says Anakin, looking oddly shy. “Right. I haven’t told you yet. I’ve been thinking, well, they’re paying me all this money that I don’t need -” (here he raises a hand to forestall Leia’s usual protest) “- so I want to do something with it. And I thought… Tatooine’s free now, but there’s not exactly a uniform system of education, and many of the communities don’t have necessary supplies or access to training for teachers or -”
“Dad,” says Leia, “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”
As it turns out, setting up an entire school system takes a lot of work. Who knew, right? It also takes a pretty shocking amount of money, much more than Anakin’s supposedly extravagant yearly salary. That’s not a problem, though, because Meera helps him set up a fundraising program that’s frankly terrifying in its efficiency.
They spend an awful lot of time together, but it’s mostly in her office or over working lunches. Still, Han holds onto hope for a while. After all, she at least was definitely interested. He knows that. But after several months, he finally has to admit defeat. Meera and Anakin have a pretty great working relationship, and Han would even venture to say they’ve become friends, but he still hasn’t seen any evidence that Anakin ever realized she was interested, and it’s pretty clear now that she’s not thinking about him that way any more.
Still. The Padme Naberrie Educational Foundation basically exists because of Han, so he’s counting this one a win.
*
He keeps trying.
There’s a woman named Jasta who likes to dance and, apparently, has terrible taste in art. Not his best choice, but hey, Anakin managed to set her up with a guy they ran into at the art museum, and he seems happy about that, at least.
There’s Varin, who’s an active duty lieutenant in the Republic navy and likes to spend her leave time volunteering with animals. Anakin introduces her to the recently defected Admiral Piett, and damn if the two of them aren’t getting married about five months later. So that worked out, Han thinks, rolling his eyes. But hey, Anakin got a cat out of the deal, which apparently his therapist thinks is great for him, so…there’s that.
There’s Piett himself, which Han still thinks made sense in theory, because Anakin is clearly fond of the guy. But, looking back, he can admit that it’s pretty likely even Piett didn’t know this one was meant to be a date, and Han suspects Anakin may have agreed to the whole thing as an excuse to set Piett up with Varin.
His last attempt is a Twi’lek woman named Dinsa Atray who’s frankly just a little bit terrifying, but then so is Anakin, so Han figures it’s a good match. They actually start meeting up pretty regularly, and Han is starting to feel pretty smug about it, even though Leia still isn’t convinced of his matchmaking skills. But his illusions are cruelly shattered a few weeks later, when dramatic and disturbingly well-documented accusations of sentient trafficking and money laundering bring about the abrupt end of Senator Orn Free Taa’s political career and, eventually, the beginning of his exciting new prison career.
(“Well this was fun,” Han overhears Dinsa tell Anakin. “Let me know if you ever want to destroy a man’s life and reputation again. I’m always game.” Yeah. Maybe more than a little terrifying.)
*
Three years into his self-appointed quest, and Han’s sitting at the dinner table staring at an invitation to the wedding of Mon Mothma and Meera Yasko. He has to admit, he didn’t see that coming. He wonders a bit sourly if Anakin introduced them, too. Honestly at this point he wouldn’t be surprised. The universe is trolling him, clearly.
“Hey, Rustbucket,” he says, because no one’s ever accused him of quitting while he’s ahead. “Who are you bringing as your plus one?”
Leia eyes him with fond derision, and Han gamely ignores her.
It’s three more months before he finally gives up. But he’s not going to admit that.
“You know,” he tells Leia, “I think I can declare this operation a resounding success.”
“Really,” says Leia with a smirk. “Because from where I’m standing it looks like you set my dad up on a dozen blind dates, and he still doesn’t even realize he’s been on one.”
Han waves a careless hand. “Well, from where I’m standing it looks like Operation Get Anakin Skywalker Some Friends was an unqualified success.”
Leia’s face softens and she leans up to give him a lingering kiss. “That’s sweet, Han,” she says, and when he grimaces she laughs. “But don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”
ok so has anyone thought about afrofuturist designs for the lion king… in space
pride rock as like, an asteroid mining cooperative. mufasa as the director, scar frustrated and jealous— he wants to turn the venture into a proper corporation, make some money, earn power and fame, control the whole of local space. iron is the lifeblood of a fleet, iron is power, iron is strength. but mufasa only cares for his wives, for his friends, for his gardens. mufasa sits on the bridge of his flagship— the petty manager of an insignificant fleet— and he plays and laughs with his wife and son and he thinks that’s enough.
‘long live the king,’ scar purrs as he cuts loose his brother’s safety lines, kicks him off the rock and away into the endless night. ‘run,’ scar says to his grief-mad nephew, opening the door of a tiny, understocked shuttle. ‘you killed your father, little boy, now run or die.’
and once scar takes over the running of pride rock, the shifts are too long, the quotas too high, the maintenance cycles too infrequent. mistakes mount up, people start to get hurt, to die, pride rock is turning more of a profit than ever but why are things getting rougher and harder for its crew? who are these grinning security contractors, striding through the corridors, snapping at the crew’s heels, reporting to scar— what does everyone need to be protected from?
pride rock has been nala’s entire world but it is dying, rotting from the inside as its crew, as her family starts to cough up grey dust, as they amputate frozen fingertips, as they patch their ragged exosuits and coax just another cycle of work out of rattling deathtrap power tools, as their greenrooms rot for lack of clean air or water, for lack of anyone with the time to care for them.
‘we’ll start over,’ nala says. ‘there’s another field of good rock out there in the dark— somewhere— i’ll find it and claim it and come back. we can be a co-operative again. we can be happy.’
sarabi kisses her forehead, patches her exosuit, collects her the best of every valve and gasket, the sturdiest oxygen tanks, the cleverest HUD interface, the most efficient water reclamators. sarafina adjusts the inventory system, marks one of their skippers down as destroyed, lays her shawl across the pilot’s seat, something of home to carry out into the dark. goes through the search and navigation programs line by line, grooming out every little tangle or bug.
their daughter— their princess, their hope— sets forth, out into the endless darkness between stars. as mufasa did, so many years ago.
I want to read a story about a wizard whose only spell is “fix this”, but the specially-crafted magic takes their intent into account. "Fix this" can mean repairing the wheel on the adventurers’ cart or healing a broken arm or “fixing” a lock so that it’s in what the wizard considers the “correct” (unlocked) position. Imagine the other mages getting increasingly frustrated as the wizard stubbornly refuses to learn any other spells.
Wizard: *points at a canyon* Fix this
Other casters: That’s not really how spells –
Wizard: Oh look, one of our blankets is now a magic carpet. Guess we don’t need a bridge.
Casters: How –
Wizard: *points at logs that won’t catch fire* Fix this
Other casters: There’s been too much rain, it won’t –
Wizard: I fixed it so that it’s in the same state it was yesterday. Someone here knows how to start a fire, right?
Casters: What –
Wizard: *points at charging dragon*: Fix this
Other casters: THAT’S NOT HOW MAGIC WORKS YOU IDIOT WE’RE GOING TO DIE
Dragon: *coughs* Did you just… cure my intestinal problems? I’ve been trying to stop breathing fire for weeks, but it just kept spilling out, and every time I tried to ask for help, I burned everything down. I won’t forget this kindness.
Casters: *ripping their hair out* H O W
I’m dying 😂👌
This is Sophie Hatter. This is exactly how Sophie Hatter works.
i failed the first quarter of a class in middle school, so I made a fake report card. i did this every quarter that year. i forgot that they mail home the end-of-year cards, and my mom got it before I could intercept with my fake. She was PISSED – at the school for their error. the teacher also retired that year and had already thrown out his records, so they had to take my mother’s “proof” (the fake ones i made throughout the year) and “correct” the “mistake.” i’ve never told her the truth
I love how OP fucked up so hard that their attempts to fix it should have led to the ass-whooping of a lifetime, but, through an entire SERIES of ridiculous circumstances and UNBELIEVEABLE LUCK, it all worked out better than expected.
OP is a fucking protag in a kids’ show, what in the fuck.
among the youngest of her family’s lineage, it’s their tradition to use their lava-based magic for benevolent uses like agriculture rather weaponize it as expected. this girl here specializes in growing tea, and she’s pretty comfortable with her farm girl life, rather than jumping to fight crime or save the world. she doesn’t see how her powers and personal philosophy would fit that lifestyle, but sometimes she’s convinced to lend a hand
One of the prompts I was excited to get my hands on from the jump! Definitely partially inspired by that one scene in The Incredibles where Mirage explains how fertile volcanic soil is and how misunderstood volcanos are. The lighting was tricky but I also really want to draw that lava hair again so I’ll figure it out eventually.