#Seque

[frasesenespa-ol]

Déjame ser ese pañuelo que seque tus lágrimas cuando estés triste y compartir tu alegría y también tus momentos felices

El amor de mi vida (La Adictiva)

[despazito]

They both married a guy who doesn't age normally and didn't tell them his entire deal, had kids with them and then vanished

[sailforvalinor]

Another thing to add to the list of reasons Alphonse Elric is my favorite character in FMA is that he fights with swords, spears, giant flying dragons, etc because if he’s gonna get stuck as a soul bonded to a suit of armor then dangit, he’s gonna commit to the aesthetic

[meidui]

2012!stevetony + that don't impress me much

[no-brain-just-akutagawa]

these past few chapters in a nutshell

[ID: An edited still of Pam from The Office holding a microphone. Instead of Pam there’s a God-mode Fukuchi. The caption reads: “I am God in this airport tonight”. In the background instead of Dwayne there’s Fyodor with his fist raised up. On the right there’s Atsushi in despair. End ID]

[sequs-art-box]

Attempted an Anger edit. Enjoy!

Song: FUDD by deaaathwish and squirl beats

[annicaax]

hideyoshiiii💔💔💔

[noctomnis-art]

Between commission work I've been working on updating my old firefly character; Sequ's design! She's one of my oldest, dearest characters. :)

[mantecol]

el argentino es patriota. lo somos, y con orgullo. lo bueno de ser patriota en este país es que nadie nos ve ejerciendo nuestro patriotismo y cree que es un ataque. a que voy con esto? que en relación con otro gran país patriota (estados unidos) nuestro sentimiento no es transformado en amenaza y en poder. el argentino es patriota hasta con quienes no son ciudadanos argentino por naturaleza. cualquiera puede serlo si quiere y lo siente. ellos lo usan como un arma de destrucción, que ser patriota va de la mano con una seguidilla de valores que se contradicen con la misma definición de lo que es ser patriota.

[useless-catalanfacts]

Botifarra (Catalan pork sausage) with white beans is one of the most iconic dishes of Catalan cuisine. It has historically been a simple dish, affordable by the lower classes and eaten both by farmers in the countryside and the working class in cities. For this reason, eating it was so widespread that, added to the fact that it's delicious, it has come to be considered Catalonia's national dish. It's usually eaten with allioli sauce (typical Catalan sauce made mainly of garlic and olive oil).

Nowadays, it’s still as beloved as always and often eaten in botifarrades (large meetings of people, often as part of a festivity, to cook and eat botifarres together).

Variations: instead of white beans, in autumn the botifarra can be served with the mushroom called bloody milk cap (rovelló in Catalan). Nowadays, many restaurants will also offer to change the beans for potato fries, especially for children.

Photo from Restaurant Can Valls (Sant Martí Sapresa).

[idle-compy]

I NEED MORE INFORMATION

[mortissez]

f. Para que nuestros personajes se encuentren en la TIENDA DE REGALOS. ㅤㅤ@binnasㅤ@ksanoukㅤ@syvongㅤ&ㅤ@svnnyreed

" no había visto una tienda de regalos más aburrida. perdieron la oportunidad de hacer replicas exactas de instrumentos en miniatura. " comenta examinando una de las tazas con un aburrido diseño de un violín estampado con unas notas musicales. levantó la vista para estudiar a su acompañante. " ¿ya te aburriste del discurso de la camarilla? "

[rotteneldritchhorror]

I’m watching hasan’s reaction to him being on fucking Australian sky news is so funny lol

Not a PROFESSIONAL NEWS CASTER saying shit like “lefties” and “as if we don’t have enough insane SJWs” and shit about “a she? He? They? Whatever apparently she’s *all* pronouns” FHSJJBSJFBKAKRJTOWID SHITS SO FUNNY

[fragilecapric0rnn]

sometimes that fic you loved when you were 16 will stand the test of time and get you out of a reading slump when you’re 26

[meidui]

if you wanted me dead, you should've just said – who's afraid of little old me

[sequs-art-box]

Taken Down a Peg

Inside Out Hitman AU; Chili gets his ass kicked by Marigold

~1200 words

The narrow hallway stretched before them, its darkness broken only by faint lights mounted at irregular intervals. The walls, cold and metallic, echoed with the soft clicks of their footsteps. Chili walked quietly behind Marigold, his senses sharp.

He already sized up every possible threat in the vicinity, now his focus was on the woman ahead of him.

Marigold’s silhouette was sharp and purposeful, her heels tapping a steady rhythm against the hard floor. Without turning back, she began to speak, her voice carrying an authority that demanded attention.

She glanced at the man walking behind her. "Chili, as of today, your life belongs to this organization. You passed your training, and now it’s time to put your skills to good use. Your role is simple: Execute the targets I give you. No questions, no hesitation. Follow my orders to the letter. I’m the voice in your ear, the eyes that see what you can’t see. If I tell you to move, you move. If I tell you to kill, you kill. No exceptions."

Chili didn’t respond immediately. He was used to orders, but there was something different about Marigold. Her words were precise and calculated. She wasn’t just giving instructions; she was laying down her laws, laws that he would have to abide by without fail.

It didn't sit well with him.

“Tsh. You really think you can control me like that?” Chili scoffed, carrying an edge that dared her to challenge him.

His handler didn’t even turn to look at him, nor did she answer him. It's like she was asking, no, begging to get beaten down.

Chili's mind was made up before he even realized he made a decision. Marigold's cool, dismissive demeanor gnawed at him. He wasn't going to let her get the upper hand that easily. Not without a fight.

His body moved before the thought fully formed, muscles coiled like springs as he launched himself forward, swinging a fist at her with the kind of force that had dropped men twice her size. It wasn't a punch; it was a statement, a reminder that he wasn't to be trifled with.

But Marigold was faster than he anticipated. She stepped to the side, her movement smooth, effortless, like water slipping through his fingers. Chili's fist cut the empty air, the force of the missed blow making him stumble forward.

Her eyes darted at the man who just attacked her.

"I guess we're doing this now," Marigold sighed, her voice carrying a sly, almost playful undertone.

Chili's eyes narrowed. A growl of frustration bubbling up from his throat. This wasn't how it was supposed to go- he was the one who dictated the terms of a fight, not the other way around!

He charged at her, his movements powerful, aggressive- every strike meant to overwhelm and conquer.

Marigold, however, was like a shadow, slipping just out of reach after every strike. She didn't block or parry, she just simply wasn't there when his fists aimed for her. She danced around him, watching him with a calculating gaze.

It was infuriating.

Chili snarled, throwing a heavy right hook, hoping to catch her off guard. But Marigold ducked under it. Her movements were surgical. She read him like a book; dissecting his every move with a clinical detachment.

Before he knew what was happening, she struck. Marigold's foot lashed out, connecting with his side in a sharp, controlled motion that sent a radiating pain through his ribs. Chili staggered, but there was no time to recover.

A sharp elbow to the back of his neck sent him to the ground, and before he could react, Marigold was behind him. Her arm snaked around his throat, pulling him into a chokehold. Chili's eyes widened as he felt her grip tighten, her lean muscles far stronger than they looked. He clawed at her arm, trying to pry her off, but it didn't budge- she had him locked down.

Chili's vision began to blur, the edges going dark as he struggled to free himself. But Marigold's hold was unshakeable. He felt his strength slipping away, slowly realizing that she was in complete control.

"Don't make me kill you, Mr. Shaw," Marigold whispered, her voice calm with a slight hint with regret.

"You have so much potential."

He could hear the sincerity in her tone, but it only made him fight harder, even if it was a losing battle. Every movement he made only tightened her grip, bringing him closer to unconsciousness.

"All of my hard work would have been for nothing," she continued, her words tinged with something Chili couldn't quite place. Was it disappointment? Sadness? He couldn't tell.

As the darkness edged closer, Chili felt Marigold’s grip tighten, but she stopped just short of cutting off his breath entirely. She asked,

“Do you yield, Mr. Shaw?”

Chili’s pride screamed at him to resist, to fight until the very end, but his body betrayed him. His strength was slipping away, his vision narrowing to a tunnel. This was it—the moment of truth. He had never backed down from a fight before, but this was life or death. He knew when he was beaten, and for the first time in a long time, he had to accept it.

“.....I yield,” he rasped out, the words burning like acid on his tongue.

Marigold immediately loosened her grip, releasing him from the chokehold. Chili slumped forward, catching himself on his hands as he gasped for air. For a moment, the only sound in the dark hallway was his ragged breathing.

But then, his breathing melted away into something unexpected. Chili started to laugh—a deep, guttural sound that echoed off the cold walls around them. It wasn’t the laugh of a man defeated, but of a man who had just found something he'd been searching for. He couldn’t help it; the situation was too absurd, too perfect.

Marigold’s expression shifted to one of bewilderment, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched him. “...Why are you laughing?”

Chili pushed himself up to his knees, wiping a bit of blood from the corner of his mouth. He looked up at her and chuckled, his eyes filled with something that hadn’t been there before— respect.

“I haven’t lost a fight in a long time,” Chili said, his voice hoarse but clear. “Hell, I didn’t think I could lose anymore. But you… you gave me exactly what I needed.”

Marigold raised an eyebrow, but she remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

Chili rose to his feet, taking a moment to steady himself. He looked her in the eyes, and then, in a gesture that surprised even himself, he bowed. It wasn’t a deep bow, his head was just low enough to show that he understood his position. It wasn’t submission, but recognition—an acknowledgment of Marigold's strength, skill, and the fact that she had earned his respect in the most undeniable way.

“I was looking for a real reason to follow you,” Chili said as he straightened up, his tone sincere. “And you just gave it to me. Marigold, I’m willing to do whatever you want. I’m all in.”

Marigold watched him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, ever so slightly, she nodded, a flicker of approval in her eyes. “Good choice,” she said. “That’s what I needed to hear.”