#so im sorry if this isnt great!!

[aterfish]

i love ways the word 'halfa' can be interpreted

[cawfeegum]

The date I'd give you would be...

A visit to a cute little diner!

Almond is always under some stress, some exhaustion, and you're always the one helping him, looking after him, your selflessness is both a source of great admiration and embarrassment for him. He has you looking after him so much, and while you like to do it.. he can't help but get sheepish. He's a grown man, relying on you so much! Isn't that a bit embarrassing? He had to thank you properly at least!

So, it was a bit of a surprise when he came home one day to tell you he had a plan for you. It wasn't anything extravagant, of course, but you knew it'd be from the heart. The diner is a quaint little place, lively and small, and you get to sit upon the leather surface of the booth's seats and eat a nice filling meal while you spend your time with him. Even now he's tired, and even now, you're putting the condiments and salt on his meal when he looks like he's about to zone out, (which doesn't help his internal embarrassment, but he appreciates it!) and even now, he softly tells you his worries as he takes your hand across the table to kiss your knuckles.

Reblog with your favorite image of your F/O, a small blurb about your selfship, and you and/or your F/O's likes and dislikes, and I'll assign you a date with an explanation as to why I chose them!

current status: open.

[sunsnet]

flashing images

— e.e. cummings

(1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7)

please click to open for better quality

been wanting to make a 1634 edit since mitch’s 500th assist point belt pic, and how of course auston had to be there with him because their legacies are so connected, but also how it was like auston was making up for lost time (him playing his 600th game without mitch) and just—

i need to be dragged offstage before i yell any more 😭

[artuurle]

(AU)

What if you died and something divine loved you so much it couldn't cope with that fact? What if they tried bringing you back but the result was wrong?

More doodles + rambles below:

Now What if what came back was just off. Looks at the divine without the memories that went back decades. It looks, behaves and works in a way just off enough in a way to make the god unable to look at it. it's not you. it's not. it can't be.

.... but what if what got pulled back was still you, but its- YOU'RE wrong and broken in ways you cant understand anymore.

The apocalypse draws closer and closer and you don't know why every day that passes you seem to be falling more and more apart too. The god is gone. You are alone.

....Anyway yeah i fucked up a perfectly normal Lovestory Au. i gave it anxiety is what i did. sorry for horrid typing in 2nd person trying to explain stuff im bad at explaining <3 i draw, not write for a reason lol.

[laswells-ashtray]

Do you have anymore Weapon!Price? I just can’t get enough of how you write him as a sergeant and his interactions with Mac.

Also, since we’re on the topic: I think when he and Nik first meet he’s awfully wary of the Russian and avoids him like he’s filled with diseases. I also think that since Mac is in his tiny circle of trust, he’d keep him away from the pilot.

That wouldn’t stop Nik though, and he would(slowly but surely) get John to trust him enough to where they can talk without John holding him at gunpoint.

It's reflexive to treat anyone around him with suspicion and borderline disdain. His only exception is MacMillan. Mac is the hand behind the trigger, and John is the shield that warps into position to ensure any stray bullets head his own way. Any knife launched in Mac's direction will meet John's throat long before they draw Scottish blood. That's his captain.

And that's exactly why John pushes himself between Mac and the Russian stranger who insists on feigning a friendly dialogue with the captain. He not so subtly pushes MacMillan back and keeps the older man behind one of his shoulders.

Nikolai's stance is too open to be honest. He's open to different attacks, making himself seem almost docile in nature as he talks to Mac but John sees the scars covering his forearms and the bruises painted across his knuckles. Nikolai is a violent man, the question is: is he a quick one? Could he outmove John if the sergeant decided to plant a knife between his ribs?

He doesn't plan on finding out unless he has to, MacMillan isn't overly fond of how blood stains concrete when it pools below bodies or drips from John's knuckles.

Nikolai's eyes drift between MacMillan and John curiously, raising an eyebrow at the sudden, blunt interruption. He's half smirking, clearly entertained by whatever meaningless falsehoods he was rattling off to the captain under the guise of being helpful. As if MacMillan isn't one of the most competent and downright vicious men on base when it came down to it. It's only a matter of time before the Russian is caught spinning a web of fabrications and stories of suffering, Mac would wrap the web around his throat and let him hang from it.

He'd wait patiently for the day and he'd kick the stool out from under his boots when it arrived. Made in Russia, buried in Britain.

So, he stares blankly at Nikolai until the Russian stops talking and he mutters some half-hearted excuse to leave, anchoring his hand around the Scot's wrist and dragging him away. The amused scolding he receives is worthless in the name of the captain's safety.

When Nikolai walks in, there's already a blade in his hand that he's mechanically cleaning. The repetitive actions are good for him, calming or at least that's what Mac says. John would argue that the most therapeutic activity of all is breaking every bone in someone's hand until they're incapable of using it without chronic pain, every little twinge of pain that shoots up their wrist would bring John's face to the front of their mind.

But he knew there were some opinions he just didn't verbalise, he might be a weapon but he'd been taught the basics of social etiquette contrary to popular belief. John just chose to dismiss that lesson when the man behind him wasn't enforcing it with a belt.

The Russian man glances around the room and it's obvious that he appears to be looking for Mac. They'd be stuck with him for the foreseeable future according to the older man, Nikolai had connections that they didn't and they had to utilise him while he was available.

John will put a knife in him without hesitation if he puts a foot out of line, in fact, he's willing to ensure he leaves the Russian with a jaw wired shut if he so much as approaches the line and there is no doubt in his mind that Nikolai would.

He doesn't roll his eyes when the other man sits down by John's table, nor at the questioning look, he receives when Nikolai notices the way the other soldiers in the room make a conscious effort to avoid so much as even looking in John's direction. He's the feral dog that only the captain can pin down to muzzle, it's hardly a secret.

He cuts off Nikolai before the words have even left his mouth, he has no time to entertain a man whose hours are slipping by him like sand in an hourglass. He should await every word with bated breath in case it should be the last he'd ever hear.

"MacMillan isn't here, he won't be available until half five and then you can find him in his office. Don't waste your time wandering, go back to your bird."

It isn't an order. John Price isn't a man who orders people, he isn't a man at all. He's the split second of recognition before a bullet pierces someone's skull.

It's advice. Stay in your lane and hope that no one merges into it with a semi.

Nikolai, to the surprise of no one, does not take it.

The Russian man looks far too amused as he leans forward, elbows resting on the table and eyes drifting across the scene of John's knives in front of him. "You have a very... distinct way of telling someone to piss off."

John narrows his eyes at the other man as his hands still on the blade reflexively, the split-second preparation of a stabbing is arguably the most important part of one. The time it takes John to register whether he's thrusting the knife with his dominant hand or not, how much vigour he's using to bury the knife in the flesh and the point of entry for his blade.

"You have the ability to use your legs so I've yet to see why you're failing to piss off." He counters, irritation practically dripping from his tone.

Clearly, Nikolai retained some of his intelligence on whichever journey landed him in the UK. he's quick to push himself up from the table but not without a deep, hearty laugh at John's expense.

"I see, I shall leave you to your knives. If you see your captain, tell him I would like to see him."

The sergeant only glowers at him in lieu of a response.

"Please."

He smacks MacMillan's hands away instinctively as the captain reaches for John's jaw. He can't see out of his left eye and he looks like he's been doused in blood. Most of the crimson staining his clothing isn't his, he's only responsible for it. But there's a laceration above John's left eyebrow that's spitting and bubbling blood across his face and the severity of it appears to be a point of contention between himself and Mac.

You'd think his eye had been gouged out with the way the Scot had responded to the sight of his sergeant.

There's a presence lingering by their side that has John's good eye trained on the knife at Mac's waist. Nikolai had been involved in the shitshow of a mission, much to his own displeasure.

John had torn through crowds of armed men like taking a chainsaw to paper, he'd cut them down with a lack of hesitation and a growl arising from the back of his throat. He hadn't cared what the Russian had witnessed, he could take it as a warning. The sanguinary display at Sergeant Price's hands is far from uncommon.

He ducks back again when MacMillan tries to land his hands on John's face and he's met with a swift smack to the back of the head which only incites John's primeval desire to bite the man.

"Fuckin sit still while a deal wae yer heid, ye squirmy prick." The Scot chastises.

John's bestial act of protest is to offer Mac's shin a soft kick.

"Cunt."

He'd been called worse.

If it weren't for the fact that the blood oozing from the wound on his face had seeped into one of his eyes, forcing him to close it then he'd have caught the hands as they moved and beaten the shit out of the man they belonged to. But he doesn't and before he can attempt to, he's met with MacMillan flicking his forehead like John is an unruly toddler instead of an unrelenting mechanism of slaughter.

"Don't. Ye've done yerself a fuckin nasty yin here and he's stopping the bleeding, ye hit him and a'll huv ye tits oor taes."

If it weren't for the fact that his very sense of being is shaped around the survival of one Captain MacMillan then he'd be performing a makeshift vertebrectomy on the man for all to see.

He watches bitterly as Mac walks away, likely searching for a medic who can stitch John's face up and add to the collection of scars that decorate his being. Every mistake immortalised upon his skin. His entire frame is defined by his inability to meet the standards of a military-grade weapon.

The faint change in pressure against the wound on his face is enough to make him hiss and clamp his hand around Nikolai's wrist, pointedly ignoring the fact that the rag held against the mangled, gaping cut is already sopping. John has always been a heavy bleeder.

"Apologies."

For someone so willing to apologise, it only takes one good eye for him to see the lack of remorse on the pilot's face as he continues to stand over John, one hand holding a cloth dripping scarlet to his face and the other large, calloused hand holding the back of John's head so he can't escape the heavy-handed treatment.

"Stick yer "apologies" up yer arse." He mutters.

Nikolai snorts and presses a little harder.

Alcohol is a sinner's creation, made by unrighteous people who wish to watch even the strongest-willed people fall victim to the iniquitous.

At least that's what John chooses to believe as the Russian next to him rolls onto his back and the sergeant is met with the sight of his cock.

He rubs a hand across his face, taking a moment to scrub at his eyes in hopes that he could awaken himself from whatever nightmare situation he has found himself stuck in.

He'd grown used to Nikolai's presence. The man is useful and after John watched him snap the neck of a man who'd tried to attack MacMillan from behind he decided that the pilot could stay, under John's surveillance.

The Russian is handsome, that is factual. He's tall, he's strong and he's hairy. He has scruff decorating his jaw that he pretends not to care about but he never lets it grow into a proper beard. His biceps are bigger than John's and after offering to spar with the man to teach him something, John had felt just how big his arms were when one ended up around his throat. For only a split second before he sent the Russian to the mat. He's chesty and he insists on wearing the tightest of shirts which irritates John to no end.

But none of that is enough to warrant waking up next to the Russian with a condom wrapper on the floor and finger-shaped bruises on his hips.

He remembers getting dragged to a pub, to celebrate a mission gone right was the excuse of Mac. To get plastered was what he meant. At one point during the night, he and Nikolai had drunkenly stumbled outside for a cigarette. Apart from groping the Russian's tits, John can remember little else.

"Fuck."

The pilot lifts his head off of the pillow and smirks at John, evidently charmed by John's sober reaction to a drunken escapade.

"I believe that is what they call it, yes. Some people also label it sex."

He's quick to turn, grabbing the pillow behind him and firing it at the other man's face. The startled "oof" brings him no satisfaction as it's followed by an obnoxious chuckle.

"This doesn't make you any less insufferable." He remarks exasperatedly.

Nikolai tosses the pillow towards the end of the bed and climbs towards him, offering John a look that makes him far too aware of how hard he is under the duvet.

"I could be insufferable with your cock in my mouth?"

Well, fuck if he isn't right.

[starry-bi-sky]

pouring one out for luo binghe in my disciple SQQ fic, poor guy has taken a backseat here. we're nearly 30k words deep and he hasn't even shown his face once. it'll be much longer before he even actually talks to Shen Qingqiu.

(i say im pouring one out but in reality im sitting in my director's chair chewing on a cigar and wearing a beret as he tearily and unsuccessfully pleads with me for more scenes with Shen Qingqiu)

[be-an-echo]

Happy bday Joel!

[mothwingwritings]

Your Yujiro x reader has been on my mind recently, and an interesting idea came into my head - what would happen if the reader somehow stumbled upon Yuichiro? What would he think of the whole situation, particularly because he is of a *very* different temperament than his son? Would he develop some sort of feelings for (reader)? I'm pretty sure Yujiro would be pissed to see his father meddling in things 😭

You're one of my fav writers on here!! Keep it up ❤︎ and make sure to take care of yourself ☺️

… I can’t believe I didn’t think of writing anything for Yuichiro before this ask lol. How could I write so much about the Hanma family’s favorite girl (you) and never mention Yuichiro???  Shame on me tbh, let’s change that now!

(And thank you for your kind words!!! You are very sweet! <3)

WARNINGS: Mentions of sex, noncon, past abuse, and stepcest.

If by some miracle act Yuichiro was able to obtain a corporeal form and once more walk amongst the living, he would be very intrigued by how far his lineage had come and what the Hanma’s were able to accomplish. Being the start of it all, he had a vague idea of how things most likely have progressed. There is no doubt that his unruly son has grown massively strong, and he’s sure that strength has caused countless problems for people near and far.

He was aware that Yujiro had children at this point, taking quite an interest himself in Baki and Jack’s development. Children weren’t always guaranteed to take after their parents, so it was always a delight when at least one of your offspring was able to carry on the family line with the strength and power you and your ancestors worked so tirelessly to cultivate. When Yuichiro found out that of all the children Yujiro had fathered, not just one, but two showed such immense potential? He was as pleased as he was proud, even more so to discover Baki and Jack lacked the level of belligerent arrogance that made their father an unbearably volatile presence to be around.

While he was taking note of his family line he happened upon a surprising outlier- you. He was at first puzzled by the fact that the Ogre, with all his rampant testosterone, was even able to produce a daughter. When he dug a little deeper and realized you were adopted into the family, while that in and of itself made sense, it left him with even more questions. Why would someone like Yujiro go out of his way to adopt someone else’s child, let alone a female, when he barely cared about the children he himself had brought into this world? Based on the limited knowledge he had of you, you didn’t have any kind of superior strength or secret, hidden abilities that may have spurred his son to take you under his wing. So how exactly did you become awarded with the name of Hanma?

The mystery became too intriguing to ignore, thus he sought you out.

The moment he saw you, he instantly began to understand your appeal. He kept his distance at first, not wanting to overwhelm you with his presence as he made his initial observations. From what he could gather, you were a thoughtful girl, kind and affable to your friends and strangers alike. He noted that you seemed a little jumpy, on edge in scenarios you should feel more at ease, and he worried that maybe he wasn’t concealing himself enough and you were catching on to his surveillance. You may not have Hanma blood in your veins, but you’ve been around them enough to recognize the specific aura they exude. He would need to be more careful, maybe conducting his research on you was best done through other means.

Hence, he decided to look into your relationships with his son and grandsons, hoping to get a better picture of who you were as a person and unravel the secret of how you became intertwined in their lives.

However, what he ended up finding out was not anything he ever expected.

As soon as he learned the horrific truth of how his family had handled you, the revolting nature in which not just his son, but his grandchildren, showed their ‘affection’ for you, he was at a loss for words. Yuichiro was beyond disgusted by their actions, particularly due to the fact that their aggressions were against an innocent woman who had no means of defending herself against the brutes that were incessantly at her heels.

Your jittery nature made complete sense now. You weren’t constantly on edge because you were a naturally excitable person- you were on edge as a defense mechanism. You had to be cautious around everyone for your own self-preservation, frightened that you may unwittingly be subjugating yourself and the people around you to extreme danger by being in a public space. The man who was supposed to be your father figure had assaulted you, hurting and scarring you in irreparable ways. The brothers that you loved and looked to for protection ended up having the same perversions as the man who had created them, betraying your trust in their attempts to force themselves upon you.

Disgusted wasn’t a strong enough word for what he had felt upon learning these revelations. His disappointment in his kin was immeasurable.

When he finally introduces himself to you, it’s apprehension that greets him in return. He can see the fear reflected in your eyes as you were faced with the instant realization of his strength the absolute power he held over not just you, but anyone who may step to him. Yuichiro was a complete stranger to you, in fact you probably hadn’t even seen a picture of him to make any sort of connection. But he could tell that within moments of making your acquaintance, you understood who he was. He was a Hanma, and therefore, he was a threat.

Seeing you cower before him, your whole body vibrating in a state of alarm, eyes darting around the vicinity as you tried to map an escape route should this meeting go south… it broke his heart. It wasn’t that he was immune to your charms, Yuichiro could definitely see the appeal of wanting to be close to you in an intimate manner, but to take you by force? To treat you so horribly, handle you so violently? It took all his power not to make his rage over the injustices you had faced show on his features, lest he frighten you further.

It took a while for you to warm up to him, but the relationship that blossomed was well worth the effort. You were a lovely person all around, beautiful in every sense of the word. The more he got to know you, the more he saw your true personality shine through, and the longer he spent with you, the more his affection for you grew.

Yuichiro had made his decision. You would be safe with him-completely and undeniably cared for under his watchful eye. He would be the father Yujiro never could be, the protector your brothers failed to be. He would become your family, a true family, and insure that you will never have to spend another day living in fear ever again.

In short, Yuichiro’s arrival would probably be the ONLY thing that would ultimately protect you from Yujiro and the rest of the Hanma family. This is great for you because he’s a man of his word, the moment you come under his care Yujiro’s entire existence is like a distant nightmare, and that is something you are exceedingly grateful for. However, you feel the absence of Jack and Baki much more profoundly, as you considered them to be your true family and still love them very deeply. Even though you know ultimately this arrangement is for the best, and you feel much safer and happier in Yuichiro’s care than you have ever felt with anyone else in your life, you still find yourself missing Jack and Baki greatly. Even with their betrayal shattering the last of your innocence, causing you deep and lasting scars, life without them still hurt, and you don’t think you’ll ever heal enough to ignore the pain.

… All this being said, it wouldn’t be on brand for me to answer this without fucking it up a little bit, right?

After some time living with Yuichiro, growing dependent on him for basic care and protection, his fondness for you begins to manifest in ways that are… shocking, even to Yuichiro himself. 

Maybe it was the long absence of a lover that began to steer his desires, or perhaps it was the sweet and selfless nature in which you offered your love to him? Who knew it would warm his heart so much to see you standing in the kitchen, sweet little apron tied around your waist as you hummed a little tune, hard at work preparing a new recipe you had picked out specifically to please him? All the little things you did without a second thought made is body and soul ache for you.

You were always cute, but when exactly did you become so irresistible to him?

It caught him off guard to feel a flutter in his stomach when he saw your smile or heard your laugh. At his age he figured he was far past feelings like this, especially with someone so much younger than himself, especially with you.

He didn’t expect the blush that dusted your cheeks when he entered the bath you were currently occupying to excite him as much as it did. He took great pride in the control he had over his body, keeping his emotions and desire in check was one of his strong suits. But seeing you there, bare and bashful, trying desperately to cover yourself while your eyes refused to linger on any part of his exposed body for too long… you were definitely testing his limits here, sweetheart.

Did you know how effortlessly beautiful you were? Did you realize just how tantalizing even the most innocent of your actions were? Would it upset you if he told you how pretty he found your body, as his eyes drank in every inch of skin you were working so hard to hide? Would it scare you if he helped you to understand just how much sway you had over not just his heart, but all of his wants and desires?

He had chided and scorned his family for their mistreatment of you, the sick, twisted feelings they pummeled you with not only threatened your existence, but were also a stain on the illustrious Hanma name. Yuichiro wanted nothing more than your happiness and your security, both were things he took great honor in providing to you, and he found his own joy in knowing you felt contentment with him after so much suffering. But he was starting to get an itch that was growing harder and harder to scratch. An itch he felt his kin was all too familiar with.

Maybe he’s not so different from his son and grandsons after all?

[candyriku]

It's still scaly since it's only a week old but I couldn't hold off posting it anymore - here's my Riku tattoo!!!!

Reference under the cut - it's that manga panel, of course :-)

I made an edit to remove the text boxes and the rain and sent it to my artist, and she made a few more changes like giving him a fully defined mouth!

[pinayelf]

u guys know davrin is a character outside that damn bird right

[microwave-core]

my haley brain rot is terminal, sorry

[artuurle]

Why do I hear drainfolk babies sounding like kittens or that angry desert rain frog noises

While baby drainfolk can make cute noises, most are the same noises human babies make - said noises just tend to be squeakier because they are smaller and have less lung capacity to scream with.

I'm aware these little guys are very critter and cutesy but they are also just straight up infants from severely mutated human beings. These are human infants and are capable of learning basic speech and other integral child milestones while still looking like a mold spore.

[miakwat]

I understand why people get competitive in Rivals matches, but why are people so mean at bronze level??

[funnyscienceman]

listen listen listen listen. i am never going to get over singed & viktor. CAN YOU IMAGINE THE MENTAL ANGUISH. THE MESS OF EMOTIONS VIKTOR HAS TO DEAL WITH. he's so steadfast with his morals and ideals. hextech must not be weaponized. dangerous science is fine as long as the only person at risk of getting hurt is me. the moment it kills someone else he's fucking BROKEN by it and just throws in the gd towel. YET SINGED WAS THE ONE WHO TAUGHT HIM. like just. imagine, ok. imagine— take the premise that singed & viktor were actually pretty close. viktor was lonely as a kid, but he found company in rio. in singed. singed provides a space and opportunity for viktor to do his science stuff. "we can be loners together." here's someone he probably has a decent amount of affection and respect for, maybe even admires like a kid would a mentor/role model/parental figure. and he hurts rio. and viktor doesn't understand, he can't reconcile this. "we can be loners together," but also, "you did this?" viktor's got like a whole slew of emotions to deal with. What the fuck? How could you? I hate you. But also, "I told you, I was consulting a friend about our quandary."

"You built this? Why aren't you playing with the others?"

"We can be loners together."

Like just what are you supposed to do when someone who provided for you — who took care of you, who looked after you as a kid — hurts someone? Someone that you care about? What the FUCK are you supposed to when that person is willing to torture and kill for science — something that you are also passionate about, the very thing you both found commonality in, bonded over — and does it all without even a hint of remorse? What are you supposed to think?

Are you allowed to find comfort and safety in that person anymore? Can you still have good memories about them, and look back at them fondly? Can you be thankful for all the good that person's done for you?

What does it say about you, if they're the one who influenced you so much so early in your life, and here they are now?

Viktor gets Sky killed, and can you imagine what must've been running through his head? I'm no better than him. I'm turning out just like him. I am just like him. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

AND IT'S JUST.

AAGGHH!!!

[feline-evil]

I don't normally talk about his tan because it's all anyone talks about, which i get but it has been an integral part of the character for ages so i'm not surprised by it when i see it and therefore don't have much to add to the convo (i'm more surprised when i DON'T see it), but as much as i know that the show was disrupted by the blizzard and MJF was probably elsewhere/at home/not at the stadium and that's why there was some variance in appearance my little pattern seeking brain is like oooohhh...... hair slicked back straight and tanned vs no tan and curly hair, are these signifiers of the facade vs the real* MJF....And when it looks more hastily or heavily applied is that to show us how artificial the facade is........

*(Still in kayfabe)

Like obviously there's variance he's had his hair unstyled and had the tan at the same time but notably......that's how he looked when the mask slipped. And when the mask was off he had no tan and his curly hair in the mirror scene.... You have to imagine me standing in front of a pinboard Pepe Silvia style ok, that's how i am about this man. It could mean nothing, it could just be natural variation in a sport that requires traveling a lot and being in a lot of different places, if thats the case then RESPECT. But it could also mean everything. The tan IS deliberate it's a deliberate character choice regardless. It might not be as deep as i think it is though. But what if it is? But what if (i am dragged offstage by shepherds hooks)

[ahappydnp]

who's adam?

their friend who was an og youtuber (whataboutadam) who lived with dnp for a few weeks in the first london flat and did a few liveshows/was in a few videos with them (blonde irish guy)