#badassmotherfuckers

[whoismrnice]

(via Nick Fury Last Time GIF - Nick Fury Last Time Trusted - Discover & Share GIFs)

[somanywords]

after a whole month of procrastinating, just spent a couple of hours taking apart the mechanisms in my front door to see about fixing the piece that retracts to let you open it, ended up driving to the hardware store, buying the right piece, installing it, putting every screw back where it needs to go, and now i have a working front door again. #handyman #fixit #mechanic #badassmotherfucker

[fromsiberia]

Six Sentence Sunday

Since I’ve found it in thansfromer’s blog my six-sentence should be about them as well... But sadly I don’t know what to write about my favourite toasters. I wish I had some inspiration or requests or whatever. 

So here is my WIP on “The Last Warrior”, with Koshey and Vanya getting together, lots of misunderstanding between everyone, Vasilisa being herself (badassmotherfucker), Yaga being helpful (to everyone’s dismay) and strange magic stuff in Belogorye is eternal. Adventures included.

***

“You’ll get to the city from here”, Vasilisa said hoarsely. “Nalim Malynych knows the way”.

Nalim Malynych, Vanya’s stallion who knows both the way and the horseriding much better than Vanya, sniffs in contempt. He was so ready to his take his rider anywhere, but better to the warm stables and fresh oats. Vanya pet his neck without thinking and barely conceal the whining - his arms were still aching. 

“What? And where are you going?”

“Back to my village. Will clean our roads from bandits and wolves, get a bear’s pelt for my grandmother... I don’t want to be a Belogirye’s warrior if they all are like you. Thieves!”

***

- Отсюда сам до города доберешься, - хрипло произнесла Василиса. – Налим Малиныч довезет.

Налим Малиныч, Ванин конь, знавший дело куда лучше всадника, презрительно фыркнул, соглашаясь везти богатыря куда угодно, но лучше к теплой конюшне и свежему овсу. Ваня машинально похлопал его по шее и скривился, с трудом удержавшись, чтоб не заскулить - руки болели страшно.

- А ты куда?

- А я к себе в деревню. Тракт расчищу от волков и разбойников, медведя добуду бабушке на шубу… Не хочу быть в городе богатыркой, если богатыри такие, как ты. Воры!

***

Of course I’m not tagging anyone, but @novafire-is-thinking and @taenerr if you’d like...

Six Sentence Sunday

Soundwave enjoyed the thrill of hunting the Mini-Cons during a fight, but unlike some of his comrades, he never obsessed over making sure every one of them was dead. As long as they went down, he and the crowd were satisfied.

One night, after watching a lower-level fight, Soundwave passed by the pile of dead and dying Mini-Cons on his way to prepare for his own match. He’d never paid much attention to the pile, but something caught his eye and caused him to turn around. He watched from a distance.

One of the Mini-Cons—some kind of flier—was rummaging through the pile, repeating a name in a frantic whisper.

A sneak peek of my How-Soundwave-Met-Laserbeak WIP. I hurt just thinking about it, but I love it. ❤️‍🩹

I won’t tag anyone this time, but feel free to write six sentences if you’d like :)

[dear-nikki-off-kilter]

I'm not a fucking mind reader...

Hiya fuckers. I've been thinking again. That's never good... I know.

I'm fine.

Raise your hand if you've ever said that phrase to someone that cared about you.

Raise your hand again if you've said it and it was complete bullshit.

I have exactly 4 reasons why you shouldn't do that.

1. Self care. What good does it do your soul to lie to people who care about you? Zero fucking good, friend. You're automatically assuming your feelings, problems and overall mental health doesn't matter to anyone. Which is the dumbest shit I've ever typed. I don't care who you are, even serial killers all have at least one person who genuinely cared if they were fine or not. That shit is toxic. Don't bottle it up. But don't share it with the cashier at your local gas station either. There's a time and a place for everything.

2. Trust. When you lie to the people that love you about small things like this, how can they trust you to tell them the truth about literally any fucking thing else? It's not just avoidance of sharing your feelings, it's lying.

3. Expectations. When I ask my boyfriend if he is okay, I expect a real answer. He expects the same from me. He doesn't expect me to say "I'm fine.", then be passive aggressive about it for the rest of the goddamn week. Seriously y'all, are we 5 or 28? If you're pissed off, hurt or otherwise not fine, JUST FUCKING SAY IT.

4. Loneliness. We all have demons. We all fight them daily. We all are not fine every moment of every damn day. How lonely it must me to do that solo... letting other people know about your weaknesses and vulnerabilities doesn't make you weak. It strengthens you. It puts badass mother fuckers in your corner, that are ready to throw a punch on the days you can't. Loneliness makes you weak. Please don't do that shit to yourself intentionally. You're not fine.

[peterwrite]

#TwinLakesSilverFrontier #business #harleyquinn #badassmotherfuckers https://www.instagram.com/p/B93DKatHsw8/?igshid=1s8zakevb507x

[badassdirector]

Όταν έχεις να δεις παιδικό σου φίλο 30 χρόνια μόνο τέτοια φάτσα μπορείς να πάρεις...Ο ΧΡΗΣΤΟΣ ΤΟ ΠΑΠΙ #badassmotherfuckers https://www.instagram.com/p/B0vPJNZHDkl/?igshid=klc2me8gr26q

[rachelmichael]

#newalbumcover #fridaynight #dinnerdate #theatticonbroadway #nightout #ootandaboot #smittenkittens #badassmotherfuckers #babes #werecute #donthateuscausewerebeautiful #welikeeachother #thisdude #thisguy #thishunk #bestfriend #nightsession #longbeach #california #doperthandope #photography #rmmr (at The Attic on Broadway) https://www.instagram.com/p/B0JhUzOBn6Y/?igshid=r3511rrpa4fw

[givers2012-blog]

That’s right Staley Dan tour bus league at Jaret and lead singer chicken it #badassmotherfuckers (at Arcadia, Louisiana) https://www.instagram.com/p/ByI3RfHAXna/?igshid=1u3k8sumtkj5v

[diabebe]

Holy cow, my friend was reading 19th century newspapers, as one does, and came across this gem.

The Brooklyn Citizen (Brooklyn New York) 15 Dec 1893

SHE SMOKED IN THE TROLLEY

A Young Woman Enjoys a Cigarette in a Fifth Avenue Car.

A rather unusual incident occurred last evening in a Fifth avenue trolley smoking car.

About 6 o’clock, as the car stopped at Myrtle avenue and Adams street, on is uptown trip from Fulton Ferry, a handsome young lady, gorgeously  dressed, attempted to board a car, but was interrupted by the conductor, who informed her that is was the smoker. 

“Never mind,” she said, “it does not matter;” and she walked gracefully up to a vacant seat at the front end of the car. The men gazed at the young woman with as much admiration as astonishment; but their amazement was unbounded when she took from her reticule a package of cigarettes, and extracting one, lighted it. In a few seconds she was puffing clouds of smoke. 

A tall young man sitting next to the young woman and wearing a light ulster and very light checked trousers, attempted to enter into conversation with her, but she looked upon him with scorn, and he was so embarrassed that he got off the car as it reached Atlantic avenue. 

The young woman, who was evidently of French extraction, judging from her accent, alighted from the car at the Long Island Railroad Depot, the male passengers gazing after her with wonder. 

[virtue3vice]

🗡👹🚬 _ _ _ Instagram: Volatile_x _ #pulpfiction #killbill #blackmamba #umathurman #miawallace #halloween #halloween2k18 #foxforcefive #crusheverything #blackhair #mrsmiawallace #mashup #redeye #zombieslayer #samuraisword #sword #badmotherfucker #quentintarantino https://www.instagram.com/volatile_x/p/Bpn8eNrhSM6/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=aw3m637grxwz

[alexwater13]

Ship It!

As a vet tech you ship the cat in heart failure that came in 15 minutes from closing to the nearest ER. Ship IT!!!!!

Ship It.

I need to send a care package with a name plaque that reads “BADASS MOTHERFUCKER” to my account manager. Ship it

Ship It?

Explaining that I like two same sex characters on a popular TV show and I want them to get together to my clueless SIL. Ship It.

Ship It. 

I found out this phrase from tumblr because I’m an old gay ass who is no longer hip. 

[mlbingham]

MORE purple power! This card is sure to put a smile on someone’s face. Brand new at LouiseLauret.com

[estevanoriol]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Estevan Oriol (@estevanoriol)

@makuarothman riding one of the biggest waves ever ridin in Fiji shot by @tim_bonython so glad you safe brother, your sick for this one homie #badassmotherfucker #makuarothman @rvca @rvcasport @rvcasurf #rvca @pmtenore #cutfromadifferentcloth

[iamdustinwilkes]

I’ve learned to harness the things that motivate me and the things that relax me. When I want to chill out and calm the waters of my mind and just kick my feet up for a few minutes I take my boots off. I Layout on our very well marine like made bed with a shit load of pillows. And I put a fireplace with Nature Sounds video from YouTube on the TV. I said an alarm for about 30 minutes I asked my daughter to do the same LOL so she can wake me up. Sometimes I just lay there at peace. Sometimes I dozed off for a few minutes. It’s very relaxing and almost every time I do this I wake up with a memory or two or a kick ass song idea. It’s amazing what a good wife will do to the life of a broken man. #IAmNotBrokenAnymore #IAmDustinWilkes #TheLegendOfDustin #Actor #Singer #Songwriter #BadAssMotherfucker (at Woodstock, Georgia) https://www.instagram.com/p/B9zffdoFyrv/?igshid=v1gp9piy2btf

[rachelmichael]

¡definitely missing on you mikey! #missyou #blondie #bestfriend #husbandandwife #coolkids #badassmotherfuckers #babes #donthateuscausewerebeautiful #behomesoon #rmmr4life #photomontage #coupleselfies #coupletwothree #doperthandope #photography #rmmr (at Los Angeles, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/Bzv0vC9BwqY/?igshid=tkde0ytga5y0

[out-of-jams]

Space Trash || teaser || jhs

↠ Space Trash ↞ “I mean, we escaped from prison, accidentally stole this super important data drive, and now we’re about to try and take on one of the biggest, baddest douche bags in the entire universe. We gotta at least come up with a name to call ourselves so they have something to put on our tombstones.” Hoseok glanced around at each and every one of your faces slowly, smile beaming in an attempt to rally the troops.

“How about ‘The Guardians of the Galaxy’,” Jimin offered with his bright, lavender hued eyes trained to the metal ceiling of the Milano in thought. “It has a nice ring to it.”

“That’s a little too ostentatious for this circus of clowns. We’re more like space trash than galaxy guardians,” you scoffed. A moment of brief silence passed where all that could be heard was the gentle, constant thrumming of the ship as it drifted in space. “Oh, no.”

“I kinda like it,” Jungkook voiced and scratched his tattooed neck, accompanied by the agreeing murmurs of everyone else and an ‘I am V!’ from V.

Hoseok beamed. “Space Trash, it is!” 

“No!”

pairing: Hoseok x Reader

word count: TBD. possibly 20-30k holy space balls this will take me forever omfg

release date: TBD

warnings/genre: guardians of the galaxy!au. S2E2EL2L. violence. comedy. i swear this isn’t pure crack. angst. space au. they’re all criminals. pilot/thief/why am i here/don’t make me stab you!Reader. (HIIC) head idiot in charge!Hoseok. i eat nails for breakfast but can’t tie my own shoes!Jungkook. pink skinned sassy weapons master techie genius beautiful superior to all others (”who is letting that narcissistic asshole write his own descriptions?”)!Jimin. is that a fucking talking tree!Taehyung. explicit language. one shot. rated M for badassMotherfuckers.

He was staring and you were starting to get more annoyed than you usually were on any day that ended in a ‘y.’  

It was obvious, seeing as how he refused to even blink. You’d think that someone would know better than to do it so conspicuously. Especially in a place such as the Kyln, otherwise known as the dreaded bowels of the galaxy’s most inescapable prison. Only criminals of the highest degree were ever dragged there by the galaxy’s military police: The Nova Corps. Murderers, intergalactic thieves, underground warlords, whoever ran up enough of a bounty that a Headhunter would want to cash them in for credits, you name it.

You fell into two of those categories, though, you supposed, rather three. A repercussion of too many stolen ships from when you’d jump from planet to planet in search of something besides the next place you’d put your sticky fingers. A kleptomaniac, your parents had called you. But you’d needed something to keep yourself busy and out of the house when their fighting had gotten to be too much.

Until that led you to packing your bags in the dead of night and stealing your retired dad’s old, busted down, single passenger ship that you’d oh-so-painstakingly repaired over the years. One jump through The Universal Neural Teleportation Network (UNTN) later and you were finally free. Of the yelling, of the constant comparison to your dead brother who’d done more with his life than you could ever hope to accomplish.

(But no matter how far you ran, the stench of cigarettes and booze and the metallic haze of blood from a busted nose or swollen lip or blackened eye would never wash out of your system.)

Fast forward to three months ago when you’d stolen a ship from a guy who was angry enough and rich enough to hire a whole squad of Headhunters to bring you down. It wasn’t your fault that you hadn’t known he was apart of the Government Counsel on the frosty planet of Contraxia, seeing as how it was mostly inhabited by sexbots, and the man had been a pink skinned Krylorian.

Though, sending ten men after one woman was a bit of an overkill, if you had any say about it. But no one asked your opinion on the Kyln unless they wanted to know which way you preferred to have your insides carved up. You kept to yourself mostly. Not that you weren’t personable, you just had no interest making friends with serial killers. Or murderers. Or serial killers who killed murderers. Or murderers who killed serial killers who killed murderers, because there were about five of them wandering around somewhere.

Which was exactly why you were two seconds away from slamming your metal lunch tray so hard into that leering douche bag’s face that he woke up in another galaxy. He was sitting across the mess hall, with its jumbled chaos of shouting yellow skinned, hairless Aakons, and Courgs stuffing their muzzled, dog like faces with the slop they called food, and the rest of the gaggle of fear-mongering A-holes spilling out of their cells.

He was easy to spot solely for the fact that he was sitting at the bottom half of a table by himself like the seats around him were vacated because he had bad body odor. The piss yellow, tank-top-like shirt and matching pants combo weren’t well worn enough to signify that he’d been stuck in that hellhole for a while. If the blatant staring didn’t give him away as a newbie, that certainly would have. You couldn’t see the color of the stripes on his pants from where you sat, so the classification of whatever crime he’d committed to get in there was a mystery.

The sudden squinting of his — what looked to be from the distance you sat at — muddy brown eyes had a glare sparking to life on your face. He looked human with his obnoxiously sharp jawline and tanned skin and heart shaped lips, but there were a lot of species out there who only appeared to be so.

Whatever the reason for his gawking, he must have found what he was looking for because he stood up away from his full tray of food and picked his way across the room towards you. A fight wasn’t on your itinerary for the day, but you’d gladly shove your metal spork through his eyehole if he tried anything funny.

Or if the thing about him having B.O. rang true. The last thing you wanted to deal with was a prick who smelled like a box of musty socks that mated with a sewer grate and popped out a sharp-nosed baby.

Your fingers tightened around your spork as he approached like he had all the time in the world, and a pair of Courg’s hadn’t descended on his untouched food tray four steps behind him like they hadn’t eaten in days. Even though they had just licked their own clean. Your eyes flickered down to the green stitching threaded through the left upper thigh of his pants.

Treason, your mind supplied. Crimes against more than one governing agency on more than one planet. Possibly in more than one galaxy. 

The definition of treason ranged far and wide, from assassinating a planet’s leader, to selling trade secrets, to figureheading a revolution. Or something else just as equally detrimental.

The moment he made it to your once peaceful corner, he immediately sat down on the stool soldered into the table without asking for an invitation. At least he didn’t smell. 

“Hey there, beautiful. Come here often?”

You were about to say to hell with it and stab him anyway. “What,” was spat out through gritted teeth.

“You.” His voice was low, pitched with a grating vocal fry like he’d just woken up and the first things he’d chosen to spew from his pink hued mouth was that. Leaning forward, he braced his folded hands on the cold, metal table and two tiny, twin dimples peaked out from the corners of his lips when he grinned. “Come here. Often? Beautiful.” 

“Oh, is that what got you landed in here?”

Your response must have caught him off guard since his eyebrows pinched together in confusion and it took him a moment to formulate words. “Pardon?”

“Idiocy,” you supplied him with an answer. “You. In here. Because dumb?”

All works here are purely fiction. Everything I write is my intellectual property and therefore belongs to me. ©out-of-jams. Do not copy or repost without permission. That is illegal and you are stealing no matter if you give credit or not.