#they cute or whateva

[forlorn-crows]

bonk

bonk bonk

[worldxwonders]

There was a look he gave her most days. The way his upper lip perked up in the right corner. His left eyebrow extended upward as if in question, however, his eyes told a different tale. Silver mixed with hints of blue when the sun shined on his face at an angle. Noted that even though the blue jumpsuit was off, his brilliant orbs were another reason to prefer him as Blue. Her Blue. A smile so evident on her features than anyone could notice.

“Miss reporter? Are you still with me?”, Nate’s voice interrupted her thoughts. He stood directly in front of her; combat rifle in his grasp.

Piper collected herself, “Did you say something?”

“Hmm... Well let's see. The people at Nordhagen Beach need some raiders cleared out. I’d get a kick out of it if my partner in crime was by my side. No pressure, after all, the news is your first love.”, Nate chuckled. Running a hand through his jet black hair.

Partner in crime caught Piper off guard. Querying when Nathaniel first started calling her that. Longing for more deep down, “Traveling with you is more than a tale. Now if you're done being a wise-ass then yes, I would enjoy accompanying you.”

“Fiesty aren't we, Red?”, Nate smirked before offering an arm, “After you.”

Piper encircled her own arm around his as the two began walking across the bridge. Adjusting her pistol in hand while her own rifle was carried by a strap on her back. A random tradition that started with them was striding side by side. Their arms in the clasp of each other.

This tendency caused suspicion if done around people. Nate and Piper did not comment on the subject. Rather keeping it to themselves which was more than fine. Their time together was serene.

[rapidhighway]

i dont really care for gijinkas but its so late im delirious but i felt like drawing have this

[mvmnbnv]

i dont wanna hear about my fat pussy wife dying wtf twitter-

[spaciebabie]

Put spoingtarp in a tennis skirt 👍

here yu go

[dantesinfernhole]

Whoops (happy pride)

[banditblvd]

Last night I was suddenly obsessed with bdubs and wanted to creature-ify him(more than I already do)

I don't know if anyone else has thought of squirrel bdubs but if they have then credit to them I suppose

I wrote down why a squirrel was perfect for bubbles but the hand writing was awful so I translated it word for word

The little doodles were cute though so I kept them..

[cada4us]

lighting with matt

[m-eltdown]

[gulliesforever]

i love it when they matched clothing at an award show IN CANON CHARACTERS like they. are in. sane so have this doodle

[mashallah]

guys this np at the hospital I know cuz she liked my coffee asked me to work a few hours at her cat cafe and it was genuinely so fun and sweet she is so so kind. both of her baristas quit on her cuz she sent one home when it got slow and the girl took it personally i feel SO BAD!!!!! anyways here r the cats i got to pet

[zombiez000]

[cxndycl0wn]

[serpentzbreath]

YOOOO EARLY BIRTHDAY PRESENT FROM MY FRIENDDDD

[lupeloto]

imagine before 11x05 ian walks in on mick painting his airsoft gun and asks him why he’s doing that and mick just says “for you” 🥹

oh that makes me JKDHSJDISKDJKJEB, lemme whip something up real quick... okay so i wrote it like Ian seeing the airsoft guns for the first time... sorry if that's not what you meant but that's where my mind took me!

Mickey is leaned against the wall, legs spread open with a little tube of black paint and a a couple paintbrushes placed between them. He held an airsoft gun in one hand, a paintbrush in the other as he studies it closely, his tongue slightly sticking out between his lips in concentration.

He hears Ian's footsteps stomping up the stairs. He always walked with such vigor, as if he had some sort of mission to tend to at all times. Mickey could always recognize Ian's footsteps which he felt was normal, but being able to recognize every goddamn Gallagher's tread in this house is what freaked him out... how the hell did he get roped up the lives of so many fucking Gallaghers?

Ian reaches the top of the stairs and heads straight for the bedroom, still in his boxers, the red plaid ones that Mickey liked as they snugged his waist a little tighter than the others. His bare chest covered in a layer of freckles and light-red hair that especially got Mickey going when paired with his messy-morning-bed-head and raspy voice.

Ian stops in his tracks, first noticing the gun before anything else, "Mick what the hell?-" he sighs, throwing his head back. But before he can continue his griping, Mickey whips it around without a word, simply gesturing towards the orange-tip on the barrel.

Ian feels a weight lift from his shoulders as he steps closer to inspect, "What'd you get those for?" he questions, a tinge of pride in his voice as he knows exactly why. He makes his way to their dresser, pulling out a clean shirt as he awaits Mickey's reponse.

"For you." Mickey replies plainly, eyes still focused in on the orange-tip of another one of the guns.

Ian smiles to himself, pulling the shirt up-and-over his head before leaning against the dresser, arms crossed over his chest, "Thought you were adamant about the real guns..."

Mickey shrugs, "Yeah well, sacrifices and compromises and all-that-shit," he rolls his eyes as they meet Ian's. He flashes a sweet, teasing smile before returning to his task.

Ian blows a deep breath before plopping down on his back next to Mickey, "Where'd you get the fucking paint and brushes and shit?" he questions, picking up the tools to inspect.

"Dollar Store. Took Liam and asked him to help me pick out which fucking brushes to get because there were like a shit-ton and he seemed to know what he was talkin' about. I dunno, wanted them to look real as possible I guess," he looks down towards Ian, one-side of his mouth turning up the sight of his husband. The morning Sun shining on his faces, making his eyelashes even lighter, daintier than usual. God, you're beautiful, he thought but kept to himself.

Ian grins, completely endeared by Mickey's effort to do something just because it would given him peace-of-mind. Not that it was unlike Mickey to do things for him, but it never failed to make Ian smile, or to coat him in the feeling of being the luckiest motherfucker alive. He doesn't speak, just stares up at Mickey, admiring the way his lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed, creating small lines between them, when he was concentrated. Mickey glances over, catching Ian's gaze fixated on him and leans down to give a gentle spider-man style peck before retuning to his craft.