#o/ hello my friend

[il-mostrc]

These ShinRa cases were fascinating. Most chose to stand and pace, wild in their actions that nearly matched the trickery of their eyes. There was never a dull appearance, despite the war images they had to endure on the land away from their own. ShinRa was on the rise, conquering lands and building walls. Brazen, like an animal, there was a tune that followed with this one. Wrath could be heard in the timbre of it; his smile often betrayed the process of what he was trying to convey.

Glenn (@soldier-lodbrok), with his unique qualities, was always a welcomed sight. He had a remarkable aptitude for the nature that bound these SOLDIERS.

"Isn't everybody sick to death of all this stuff?"

With an inhale of breath, his chest barely rose underneath the three-piece suit he always chose to wear. Between his fingers was his fountain pen, clipboard holding nothing to signal any resourceful patterns in this talk. Sometimes, it's just simply that.

"I image this is part of the process," Hannibal says, his face blank aside from the fraying of a curling smile at the corner of his mouth.

The licking flames nestled in the hearth of his fireplace danced their orange glow upon the young man's face. It highlighted the grueling nature of a soldier with Mako fresh in their blood, changing their physics.

Their Becoming.

"How long has it been since the transfusions?" This time, he places the sharp edge of his pen onto the paper to record, crossed leg over the other balancing his ability to write.

With the propaganda of SOLDIER, ShinRa had found their duty in signing over patients who exhibited frustration and violent tendencies under the care of psychiatrists. Mako was still an unstable source of power-- outside of the human body and within it. They were also an acting earpiece if any traitorous predilections crept in.

Hannibal had friends in high places, as they say.

[ectoplasmer]

you guys ever grab your f/o’s face and just *forehead kiss* *forehead kiss* *forehead kiss* *forehea

[serenadeofsunshine]

i love my wife tails. i love her a lot . I’ll be back

[wigglys-dikrats]

what’s a hatchetfield quote you would use to convince someone to join the starkid cult fandom ?

[whyoneartheven]

oh hello! :D trick or treat!

Hellooooo :D

Happy Halloween!! I give you… a doodle!! (Da-nanana-naaaa)

i am so sorry about this

warriors does not appreciate his Halloween costume…

[mortonsalts]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗  DELMAR O’DONNELL  ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Tim Blake Nelson in O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000)

[deus-ex-mona]

chizuchan was right. childhood friend romances are the b e s t

[kvynx]

promising myself at least one luffykelsey doodle a day to remind myself how much i love luffy

[skrunksthatwunk]

sometimes you need to go back and listen to the music you liked when you were 13 because it's good for you. and no im not talking about like emo nostalgia in this case we have enough posts about that. im talking about dad rock. actually im just talking about barenaked ladies

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Moomin: *flashes back to Moominpappa rambling about how looks like a total lapcat and acts like it*

Moomin: so that was a lie

[givehimthemedicine]

shitbird & ragamuffin my beloveds <3 they were besties in season 2 and El sneaked out of the cabin every day to play with Max actually

(Max offered to teach El to skate but she was too wobbly to even stand up on her own so now she thinks Max is an absolute pro skating legend for just being able to roll down the street. Max has no objection to this)

closer below

[tarucore]

Dick Grayson who is hyper aware of the types of cases the Robins take on and the subjects they are exposed to bc he knows how difficult it was to be treated as a competent adult at 11 years old

vs

Dick Grayson who is very casual about subjects that might be inappropriate for the Robins when they are kids bc he has no frame of reference on what is appropriate bc he was exposed to those subjects at such an early age

FIGHT

[puppyeared]

Danse Macabre

[thebluestbluewords]

Wouldn’t Ever Make You Leave

(Mal/Ben but in a bisexual and poly way)

+

Mal dances up to Ben, on the neon-lit steps of the castle.  “Hey, princeling,” she says with a little smirk and a swish of her soft purple skirts. “Wanna take a spin?” 

Ben grabs on to her outstretched hand. “You know it.” he says, and lets her pull him out onto the dance floor. 

Mal, shockingly, isn’t a bad dancer. She’s not letting Ben lead very well, but it’s kind of fun to let go, and just let himself be pulled along with the music and the movement of her body, rather than trying to hold himself back with the formal steps that have been drilled into him through years of royalty-appropriate dance lessons designed to teach him just the right way to lead a lady with whom he is interested in dancing. 

It’s fun, is what Ben’s thinking. Mal must be able to feel him relax into it, because she swings him a little harder, pushing Ben into moving away and back from her again, a little swing-steppy sort of move that doesn’t really fit with the upbeat song currently pumping through the outdoor speakers that the castle keeps around for just this kinds of student event. 

She pulls him in, so that they’re shoulder to shoulder again, and bounces a bit on her heels to bring her face up to Ben’s cheek. “So, hey!” Mal whisper-shouts in Ben’s ear. “You looked pretty good up there today! Very regal, and all that.” 

Ben draws her over to the edge of the crowd before answering. It’s quieter, on the far side of the dance floor. Further away from the speakers. 

“Thanks?” he says. Is this what flirting looks like? “You looked good, too.” Oh, wait. “Very good .” he adds, with a little nudge to her shoulder. 

Mal crows out a burst of laughter, and slaps Ben on the arm. “Oh my gods, Ben! You’re awful, you know that?” 

This is more like it. Ben knows what to do with this. It’s kind of hard to reign in his grin. “Usually people tell me I’m good.” he says, pushing close. 

Mal lets him get all up in her personal space, grinning like a jack-o-lantern all the while.  “You know what I meant. You were pretty cool today, princeling.” 

“Shouldn’t you be calling me kingling now?” Ben asks, reaching up to touch the crown he’s swapped into for the party. Tradition dictates that he’s not allowed to wear the ceremonial crown for casual events, but his sense of self-importance, which he knows is something he should be working on, means he’s wearing the casual, plated one that was offered after the main coronation ceremony ended. “King of the states, and all.” 

“Mm,” Mal hums. “I don’t know if a double vote at council meetings and increasing responsibilities until age twenty-five or marriage is really enough for me to consider you a king quite yet.” She swings Ben around into a little spin, both of them ducking under each other’s arms, equal partners on the edge of the neon dance floor.  “Get back to me in a bit,” she shouts over the rush of noise as a new, apparently very popular song comes on. “I’ll have to consider it.” 

Ben spins her swing-dance style, so that she ends up with her arms crossed, tucked against his chest as he leans them both over. “That’s more than fair,” he says, burying it in the curve of her jaw, by her ear.  “I don’t know if I should consider myself a king yet either, then. There’s no official re-coronation date chosen yet, so maybe I’ll have to wait for my second crowning.” 

Mal pulls back at that, far enough so that she can look Ben in the face. “Is there going to be one?” She sounds horrified. “That’s terrible.” 

Ben laughs. “You know us royals. Always gotta be the center of attention, right?” 

“Mm-hm'' Mal hums. She seems distracted, and it takes Ben a moment to notice her staring behind him, back out on the main floor. She looks back as soon as she realizes that he’s realized, but not before he catches a glance of blue. She’s watching Evie, of course, as she goes sweeping by all glittering and beautiful on the arm of a boy whom Ben knows Mal hates. 

Ben doesn’t have anything against Doug, personally, but it makes sense that Mal would resent any boy, even a band-geeky one, making eyes at her girlfriend. 

He dares to move a hand to the small of Mal’s back, pulling her in. She doesn’t startle, of course, but she looks back to him. 

“Um,” Mal laughs. “Oops. Us villains too, we just live for the drama of it all.” 

“I’m sure. Would you ever want to be crowned, if you could go back to the moors someday?” 

The corner of Mal’s mouth twitches, like she’s trying not to smile (Or maybe not to bare her teeth at him. It’s hard to say sometimes, with Mal.) “It wouldn’t quite be going back, for me. I’ve never been in the first place.” 

Ben ducks his head. He’s a little bit lightheaded from the drinks served earlier, and a little bit flustered from being around this amazing girl. “Right,” he says. “Of course.” 

“Anyway, no. I wouldn’t want to be crowned the queen of a people I’ve never even met.” Mal goes on. “I know my mother wanted me to reclaim our homeland, and all that, but I’m not really much for….” 

“Subjugating unwilling people under your iron fist?” Ben offers. The chunks of iron sewn into the outside of Mal’s gloves are something he’s been too afraid to ask about directly. Maybe after tonight, he’ll find the right words. 

“Not quite iron.” Mal says lightly, making a fist to demonstrate. She’s right. She’s wearing a delicate golden bracelet today, draping down over the back of her hand. No iron in sight. “My golden fist?” 

He has to have seen her bare hands before this. It’s basically impossible for him to have not seen. She can’t possibly wear gloves all of the time. “Doesn't have quite the same ring to it, does it.” Ben manages to say. 

He wants to hold her hand. 

Mal pulls her fist back before he can make a move. “Not quite, no.” 

(Find the rest on my ao3!!)

[scootarooni]

（Φ ω Φ）

[mars-ipan]

i have. really good friends and i love them a lot