#*quietly sobbing*

[rocketbirdie]

Congratulations to the Insect Glaive for being voted Best Monster Hunter Weapon! Insect Glaive absolutely dominated the tournament, winning against every single opponent it faced.

Hunting Horn comes in 2nd place after a thrilling final battle, in which it lost to Insect Glaive by just less than 1%!!

And in 3rd is the respectable Great Sword. Good taste, hunters!

Honorable mention goes to the Heavy Bowgun, who was brutally eliminated in the first round, earning it the title Worst Monster Hunter Weapon. And let's get another round of applause for Dual Blades, whose brave sacrifice prevented a doomed future.

Thank you for participating in the Best Monster Hunter Weapon poll!

[i-never-forgot]

dusknoir would give the biggest, tightest, most enveloping, best hugs ever. end of discussion…

(just kidding lmao y’all know that ain’t the end of it)

…provided, of course, he learns how to give them.

once he grows accustomed to the absentminded physical affection that the others trade so casually, so thoughtlessly, so comfortably.

once he overcomes his initial aversion to touch bc of the fight-or-flight instinct he’s lived with all his life and realizes that he’s not only touch-starved, but touch-famished—touch-malnourished, if you will.

once he tamps down his suddenly realized ravenousness into something less overwhelming and something more palatable (in his mind, at least) to those around him who—not too long ago—he was actively hunting down with the intent to execute.

once he stops flinching when someone reaches out to him, stops tensing when others raise their voices a little too loud, even in excitement, stops clenching his hands into fists when he surveys any given room or space for exits and assesses the unfamiliar Pokemon for who would pose the biggest threat at any given time.

once he learns how to measure his strength so he doesn’t accidentally hurt anyone, no longer needing to utilize the violence he so carefully developed, now suddenly so mindful of his body and the space he takes up as well as the frightening power in his arms and the sheer size of his destructive hands.

…ultimately, dusknoir would give the best hugs once he forgives himself, like everyone else has, and allows himself to be hugged first—to experience love and gentleness at its most vulnerable, without fear.

[an0nfr0mth3d3n]

I just realized I can’t play the next bbh event cause I’m at my parents and so I can’t meet Ana shade and lumi-

LITERALLY WHAT IS MY LUCK THIS IS THE THIRD TIME IM GOING INSANE SOMEONE STOP ME I WILL JUMP OFF OF A CLIFF

[munsster]

through and through

A/N: i am simply a sucker for a gorgeous, dumb blond (gif creds: @captainsamerica)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Summary: The most stubborn man in the world has no one to blame for that gunshot but himself. And all over again, you'll clean him up. 1.5k words

Warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff, angry but soft reader, dumb stevie, slight wound description, its okay: everybody lives, cursing, pet names (honey, baby, darlin), friends to lovers

"God, Steve, do you know how frustrating it is when you do this?" You're ruffled: wide-eyed and feverish. Upset might better describe your situation. Peeved, maybe. Because you're used to his recklessness. Always have been. Even when it was only news articles and rumored hospitalization.

Arm hooked around his waist, he slumps his weight against you while you struggle up the ramp of the jet. Labored breathing fans the nape of your neck, and you can feel his tension loosening with the grip of his consciousness. As he plops down into a hard metal seat, he deflates. Especially with you beside him, he's happy the scolding of his life is at hand.

And all he can do is laugh. Of course he's gonna be okay; he's pumped full of the purest steroids long-dead alchemists could come up with. Which is why he's not worried. So far from worried, in fact, that he's grinning. You're fingering antiseptic against the fresh gunshot wound in his abdomen, and he's sitting pleased.

"You couldn't have been a little more careful?” You grumble something about how stupid he is. That he's doing it on purpose to mess with you. Leave it to Steve to get shot just to piss you off. "Try to risk your life a little less, 'kay? God, it's so frustrating.”

He chuckles, hissing at the brief pain and slumping down in his seat. "You said that already."

"I'm not afraid to hit a dying man—"

"Hush, I'm not dying." He coughs up a wet gargle, and the panic sets in. You press a square of gauze against the shallow divot with the heel of your palm. Lazily, his head lulls to the side, and he can't stop himself from smiling at the crease between your brows.

"That's exactly what you'd say if—"

"—If I was dying, yadda yadda. Have I ever lied to you, darlin'?"

His palm cups yours on his hot skin. Each breath presses taut muscle into the gentle curve of your fingers. Your face screws inward, but he puts a little pressure on your knuckles, trapping them in place on his stomach.

"How'm I supposed to know?"

His tongue clicks behind a smirk, and he blinks his eyes shut. It's because he's exhausted, you know that. You should let him rest, but after losing all that blood, you also figure it's better if he stays conscious until you're sure he'll make it. There's no reason for this time to be different. But then again, there never really is.

"Hey, hey, hey, don't do that. Keep 'em open, please."

"Aw, come on, honey—fine"—his vibrant blue eyes startle you as he goes back to staring—"As I was saying—I'm not planning on dying anytime soon. If I was, I'd tell you so you could smack the deathwish outta me."

"Oh, and I'm just supposed to trust you, huh?"

"Yes, please." He's horrible. The blood he's got left all goes to his head to fuel a stupid grin and the biggest, dumbest puppy dog eyes. No thoughts behind them, just pure nonsense and foggy desire.

"You're the worst," you huff. It kinda stings when you don't chase it with a laugh or a smile. He hates that he's forcing you to be professional. Because unprofessional, unapologetic you is his favorite. A real sweetheart, and he's the one responsible for driving that away.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. More sincere than he's been in his life. Well, this life. It's not often that he gets to open up. He's been Captain for years now. And finally someone calls him Stevie again, and he's screwing it up with his stubbornness. He wishes he could be candid. Taken with life. Unabashed life, all at the tips of his fingers. Yet grabbing on never felt so far away.

He flutters when you scowl up at him, relieved that he gets to be acknowledged by you once more. Excited, suddenly, by the hand on his new scar. Wonderfully exposed by the top of his suit folded at the waist in his lap. And you have to admit, he's handsome. Golden hair flopped into his face, bloodied up by his or someone else's, but still so charming between rattling exhales.

You sigh. "I hate it when you're headstrong."

He perks up from behind the guise of creeping pain. You pay no mind, zipping the first-aid kit up and shoving it back into your duffel.

"Can't you let someone else take the high road? You know it's okay to be the bench guy for one game. Maybe save your life." You shrug, and the guilt washes away from the surface of his skull. He's thrilled again to be here for your bloom as the jet lifts and your ears pop.

"But that's what I have you for."

He hates it because it implies that's all. But that's far from all. You are all. He doesn't know it gives you butterflies because it implies that he has you. And he does. He will.

"As much as I love being your personal nurse, don't you think I deserve a break?" You pout and settle in beside him. He thinks the closeness could make his slow heart start up again. Even with near half his blood left, he'd circulate triple as long as you stay this close.

"C'mon, honey, you know I like when you work for it."

You don't have a second to process before he shifts closer and leans his head back against the tough wall. Your neck goes all hot because he drops his hand in the small space between his thigh and yours. The length of his thumb curiously swipes the skin of your catsuit, and you stiffen.

His breath catches in the dark. Your fingers fit slowly in the spaces of his own, a subconscious squeeze soothing the warm strain built up in all the little slips and slides. And it's okay now. Close like this is good for his ache. He doesn't have to be straight-posture, strict leader in your arms, even if he hasn't been there for very long. He would still like to fold into your warmth like perfect cake batter. Vanilla and streaks of funfetti if you'll keep him in place for a while longer.

"I told you to keep your eyes open, Stevie."

So they snap open. To find you're watching him. It wrecks him wholly to know you've noticed him before. It's so stupid, but he obsesses over the times you're not subtle about it. Like now: wetting the corner of your mouth with the tip of your tongue, pressing the pad of your thumb to his forefinger's knuckle.

"And I told you I'd be okay, darlin'." He feels himself softening. Hot peaches laid delicately into the shell of a tart to bake until golden brown. You could slice through him and take a bite. It would all reassure him knowing you enjoyed the bittersweetness and buttery smooth sinking of your teeth into his flesh.

"Stevie," you coo, lips parted. The gravity of you makes him want to slink closer like a stray cat to warm milk. To dip his tongue in and savor the newness. Cool and better than ever. You could—you do fuel his strength. Every centimeter poured from your cupped palms into—finally—Man. At last. Gold and glimmering. Exposed to weathering but picturesque evermore.

But he looks dazed. Glossed over. On the verge of emotion. And distress bubbles in your lungs.

"D'you need to rest—"

He shakes his head. "Stop thinking about me for five seconds, honey. I think kissing my girl is rest enough," he huffs, "Don't you agree?"

You squint. Smartass. "Actually, old man, it might be better if—"

In a breath, he holds the pretty swell of your chin in his shaking fingers. Mouth close enough to feel the dryness and the softness beneath it all. You gasp, going all pliant at his will. Like angels, too nervous to be impure, he's holding you in place like a statue. Keeping you on edge.

Until you grab his face and kiss him nice and slow. Enough to heal his plight. A new gunshot wound in the form of a pretty lady tearing through his well-grooved chest. Leave all the shrapnel if you'd like. With your mouth in the small of his own, he feels like a dizzy hangover in the middle of a house party. His hands grasp greedily at your waist, turning you and shifting you and pulling. Bringing. Begging.

And, like a minx, like always, like you, you push away with a laugh and wipe his spit from your mouth.

"Been waiting on that for... ever. Feelin' sealed up already, baby," he grumbles.

"Sweet on me now, Stevie?"

He shakes his head with a chuckle.

"Always have been."

marvel masterlist

[kami-ships-it]

Peter Sandys-Clarke (aka Havers' actor) tweeted a poem...

[ninoochat]

Ian & Mickey being cute as shit 2/?

[fascinationstreetmp3]

they had food in that apartment in the 70s... there's crackers, peanut butter, bread(?), a jar of pickles and a bowl of apples but why. was louis letting his hookups slash murder victims have a little snack first or was it just like for decoration purposes

[zorosnavigator]

I will love you for as long as I breath..

[starryroe]

we don't talk enough about "thing that has been your special interest for 14 years and you know absolutely everything about it and you love watching other people experience it but actually experiencing it yourself makes you feel awful because no matter what it is not anywhere near as good as you wish it was"

[myrquez]

im totally normal about this btw

[cconfusedkat]

Random lambmura stuffff ive been doing throughout the day ❤️💜 lmdoakdks none of these r related in event sequence it was for Eel just one hour doodles as a break from doing classwork

And of course i Cannot Forget ；

If anything shamuras the high one allure just dont got a clue what's going on 💀🙏

[thatfilthyanimal]

Will Ferrell playing a villain in Despicable Me 4 is just him basically being Megamind again and I'm fucking barking I'M IN PAIN PLEASE I JUST WANT MEGAMIND 2 DREAMWORKS PLEASE GET ON IT

[chromadrop]

[ivi-ivisek]

The boys together

Little bonus

[charlie-artlie]

location marker set: where everybody knows your name

happy murderbot day! ive been kicking around this au thing for a very very long time and finally was able to squeeze it out juuust before the new book releases 💦 i think ive drafted this comic 5 separate times, so apologies if it doesn’t make sense at all lmao. explanation is below the cut 👇

so what if when murderbot destroyed central and targetcontrolsystem and 2.0, it… failed? what if something about the alien remnant kept them alive in there? but damaged, confused, and corrupted. so 2.0 wakes up. its memories are corrupted, but tcs uses what it has access to to put together something plausible to get 2.0 to let its guard down, so it can get close, so it can take it over. repeat ad infinitum. whenever 2.0 is lucid enough to do so it starts spamming assistance needed requests, but anyone who’d be willing to help it is long gone by now. it’s just them down here now, alone together.

unless tcs pokes the tiger too much and 2.0 eats it! but that probably wont happen

[maxdurden]

"remember when we died??" gorgug thistlespring you will always be famous to me