#IS IT JUST ME OR DO THE LOOK ALIKE

[fumifooms]

Dad always said I was like him

Meijack and Chilchuck Tims Dungeon Meshi, Ryoko Kui

^ 1: Moony moonless sky, Fatima Aamer Bilal / 2: Bug like an angel, Mitski / 3: Woodtangle, Mary Ruefle / 4: The Third Hour of the Night, Frank Bidart / 5 & 6: FROM THE MAKERS OF "TWO-MOM ENERGY DRINK," IT'S "LET YOUR FATHER DIE ENERGY DRINK,", Daniel Lavery & Cecilia Corrigan / 7: Batman: Year Three (1989) / 8 & 9 : FROM THE MAKERS OF […], Daniel Lavery & Cecilia Corrigan / 10: Wilt, CJ the X / 11: How Do We Forgive Our Fathers, Dick Lourie / 12: Milk and honey, Rupi Kaur / 13: And My Father's Love Was Nothing Next To God's Will, Amatullah Bourdon / 14: Moony moonless sky, Fatima Aamer Bilal / 15: Someday I’ll Love Ocean Vuong, Ocean Vuong / 16: untitled, Joan Tierney v 17: Drunk, The Living Tombstone / 18: unknown

When your father tried his best to provide for you but he worked all the time and even when he was home he was either tired or stressed and he’s always liked to get drunk to relax and cheer up. When you know he values work ethics and respectability so you grew up to be capable and quiet. And when he says you’re like him you’re sort of puzzled, does he really know you so little, or does he know himself so little? But you like the feeling of your father ruffling your hair so you accept it, and still you stand next to your mother just as silent and just as stoic as her during family gatherings. He leaves again and again and when your mother leaves him nothing changes, really. You wonder if it’s more telling that you know him better than he seems to himself or that you don’t know him as much as you wish you did, or that you don’t think about him all that much these days. Out of sight, out of mind. And he’s never really been there, even when he was there, after all.

[madootles]

;)

[puck-luck]

Now this is just too daggum cyute!!! They truly are the NHL's first family <3

[cerealbishh]

"The world's lucky to have you."

[0xeyedaisy]

Some unfortunate fellas

[seiwas]

thinking about off-season atsumu in his 30's looking a little bit too like ukai keishin 😭 bright yellow hair slicked back by a thin headband, dark roots peeking through—it's the dead of the night and he's wearing flip flops and a pair of athletic shorts for a very short trip to the convenience store

[just-sp-in-inginthevoid]

Is it a Takuya-Mikey situation or a Karen-Emma situation

[epickiya722]

There's always gonna be like one or two characters that I'm a fan of, but dislike some of their fans and out of all characters in BNHA... I never would have thought it would be Spinner.

[minai28]

I realized it's a crime to have Sophie without Belinda. They're a 2 for 1 deal dispite everything

[misfittq]

moodboards for my zoenette lovesquare au that i’ll never do anything about bc i can’t write :(

[nonokoko13]

I think male/gender neutral reader x Marito is necessary. I'm totally okay with female ones but that man is fruity as hell (just like the rest) so I'm surprised there are none yet. I also think this man is kinda dom bottom / versatile if you ask me but I have yet to find people who think the same (´･-･`)

[colorful-bees]

One thing that I have to appreciate about N is that I will never draw him the same way twice apparently.

What shade of green is his hair? What color are his eyes? Who knows.

[flowerflamestars]

Rust snippet

“The problem with Morrigan,” Azriel admitted, knee sliding against the softness of Nesta’s dress, “Is that it did work, once.” With a primness that might have fooled, Nesta uncrossed her legs, framing Azriel’s thigh in a soft flash of bared skin. Casual. Close. But what tipped the odds was her mouth, smile developing an edge, delight. “How?” Azriel shrugged. “I was eighteen. Stupid. A girl like her had never looked twice at me.” Morrigan, a wilder, younger, less brittle version, had looked expensive. Like a person Azriel should not, under any circumstances, be allowed to touch. Four years of scholarship at private school had gotten him to college, gotten him here, and taught him too, to keep his fucking head down. Not looking had never made wanting any less. “And then,” Nesta hedged, sliding closer. “Never again? So”- “So I’m a fun challenge,” Azriel agreed, savoring that faint, phantom warmth. The ferric tang of wine, so sharp it turned right around into sweet. “It was stupid and meaningless then. Means even less now.” Nesta grinned, totality of the expression briefly breathtaking. “You must make her insane.” “Says the woman Cassian seems to think is going to have his babies.” He was sorry to see the smile turn to disgust, but not regretful. Full-body, her shoulders moving, lovely posture shifting. It was choice- it was a choice at all that Azriel had come tonight, against all better judgement, a decision that was now seeming wise to the point of psychic intuition- it was a call, and Azriel made it, skimming her bare knee as Nesta’s horror turned right around into a scathing little laugh. She watched him do it. Slow, smile stilling but not fading, as Azriel traced a curve upward. Nesta leaned forward, catching her chin again with one steady hand. “We should go to dinner.” A slow line, his thumb on her soft thigh, like Azriel could match the clear cut shape of her jaw, drawing him in. He cleared his throat. “We should.”

[volivolition]

suggestion do you have... any wants? like obviously you do but like? suggestion my guy my ourple boy. both the easiest and hardest to write. you need a skill to say something to move conversation along but it doesn't fit any skill in particular? about 80% of the time you can have suggestion say it and it will make sense. but like actually characterizing him... how do i define you dude... what makes your character tick... urgh. i dont get you yet. im trying to understand but you are difficult.

[fromtheseventhhell]

It took her back to her childhood, to long grey days at Riverrun. She remembered the godswood, drooping branches heavy with moisture, and the sound of her brother’s laughter as he chased her through piles of damp leaves. She remembered making mud pies with Lysa, the weight of them, the mud slick and brown between her fingers. They had served them to Littlefinger, giggling, and he’d eaten so much mud he was sick for a week. How young they all had been. (Catelyn V, AGOT) None of which stopped Arya, of course. One day she came back grinning her horsey grin, her hair all tangled and her clothes covered in mud, clutching a raggedy bunch of purple and green flowers for Father. Sansa kept hoping he would tell Arya to behave herself and act like the highborn lady she was supposed to be, but he never did, he only hugged her and thanked her for the flowers. (Sansa I, AGOT)

--

“He did not know you,” Ser Rodrik said after, wondering. “He saw a pair of mud-spattered travelers by the side of the road, wet and tired. It would never occur to him to suspect that one of them was the daughter of his liege lord. I think we shall be safe enough at the inn, Ser Rodrik.” (Catelyn V, AGOT) “What were you doing to that cat, boy?” Myrcella asked again, sternly. To her brother she said, “He’s a ragged boy, isn’t he? Look at him.” She giggled. “A ragged dirty smelly boy,” Tommen agreed. They don’t know me, Arya realized. They don’t even know I’m a girl. Small wonder; she was barefoot and dirty, her hair tangled from the long run through the castle, clad in a jerkin ripped by cat claws and brown roughspun pants hacked off above her scabby knees. You don’t wear skirts and silks when you’re catching cats. (Arya III, AGOT)

--

Her two older brothers had both died in infancy, so she had been son as well as daughter to Lord Hoster until Edmure was born. Then her mother had died and her father had told her that she must be the lady of Riverrun now, and she had done that too. And when Lord Hoster promised her to Brandon Stark, she had thanked him for making her such a splendid match. (Catelyn VI, ACOK) “And Arya, well…Ned’s visitors would oft mistake her for a stableboy if they rode into the yard unannounced. Arya was a trial, it must be said. Half a boy and half a wolf pup. Forbid her anything and it became her heart’s desire. She had Ned’s long face, and brown hair that always looked as though a bird had been nesting in it. I despaired of ever making a lady of her. She collected scabs as other girls collect dolls, and would say anything that came into her head. (Catelyn VII, ACOK)

--

He had forgotten Catelyn, until the iron brazier came crashing into the back of his head. Helmed as he was, the blow did no lasting harm, but it sent him to his knees. “Brienne, with me,” Catelyn commanded. The girl was not slow to see the chance. A slash, and the green silk parted. They stepped out into darkness and the chill of dawn. Loud voices came from the other side of the pavilion. “This way,” Catelyn urged, “and slowly. We must not run, or they will ask why. Walk easy, as if nothing were amiss.” (Catelyn IV, ACOK) It was the scariest thing she’d ever done. She wanted to run and hide, but she made herself walk across the yard, slowly, putting one foot in front of the other as if she had all the time in the world and no reason to be afraid of anyone. She thought she could feel their eyes, like bugs crawling on her skin under her clothes. Arya never looked up. If she saw them watching, all her courage would desert her, she knew, and she would drop the bundle of clothes and run and cry like a baby, and then they would have her. She kept her gaze on the ground. By the time she reached the shadow of the royal sept on the far side of the yard, Arya was cold with sweat, but no one had raised the hue and cry. (Arya IV, AGOT)

--

“I’m almost a man grown, and a king—your king, ser. And I don’t fear Jaime Lannister. I defeated him once, I’ll defeat him again if I must, only …” He pushed a fall of hair out of his eyes and gave a shake of the head. “I might have been able to trade the Kingslayer for Father, but …” “… but not for the girls?” Her voice was icy quiet. “Girls are not important enough, are they?” (Catelyn I, ACOK) That much was true, Arya knew. Knights were captured and ransomed all the time, and sometimes women were too. But what if Robb won’t pay their price? She wasn’t a famous knight, and kings were supposed to put the realm before their sisters. And her lady mother, what would she say? Would she still want her back, after all the things she’d done? Arya chewed her lip and wondered. (Arya IV, ASOS)

Some parallels between Arya and Catelyn that I noticed during my re-read. It's interesting to see not only how similar they are, but also see how many moments they have that directly mirror each other.

[royalberryriku]

Thinking about how "self defence" is considered okay until a country the west is not allied with does it.