he looks so angry here


‘The summer sun was not meant for boys like me. Boys like me belonged to the rain’

cutie pies Dante Quintana and Ari Mendoza from Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Saenz. I finished it a few days ago and wow……it is an AMAZING book. i cried several times

Actual in-character version of Bring Him Home

God on high
Hear my prayer
In my need
You have always been there

He is young
He’s an ass
Let him die
God on high
Fuck this kid. (x3)

He stole the only love I’d known
My dear Cosette he wants to bone.
These fuckers die
One by one
I’d wish he’d fly
And be gone
And I am old
And I’m so done.

Bring decease
Bring decay
He is young
But he’ll still die today

You can take
Him I give
This kid I
Won’t forgive
If he dies, let him die
Fuck this kid
Fuck this kid
Fuck this kid.


Super dobe! Pages 6-8

Hey guys, imagine if I could actually draw



may have gone overboard, but seriously his hair are the real deal!

Fulcrum X Fulcrum (With Spoilers for Season Three of Rebels if that wasn't Obvious. We good? Okay~)

Okay look. I know a few things after this year’s double punch of Rebels and Rogue One:

–Cassian Andor is a former Separatist and a former Fulcrum agent apparently involved with recruiting

–Agent Kallus is apparently really good at reprogramming droids.

–Even parts of the fandom that LIKE Kallus want to see him punched.

–That jacket and hair combo’s gotta come from somewhere

–I need these assholes to meet.

–The timeline technically meshes so it could happen.

And so I ended up writing Cassian/Kallus (Cassius?) pre-slash fic snippet I might never go further with over Clone Wars Politics, Kaytoo’s Sass, Namedropping, and my old favorite: “Sad Pan Kallus is Pan As Hell.”

For the record I blame Moon for not stopping me.



“I’d heard a rumor some of the members of the rebellion held separatist leanings during the Clone War.”

It isn’t much in the way of conversation when you’ve been paired off with a strange man to fix an imperial droid. But it’s something considering theirs had been a conversation of false starts:

The information in this unit must be valuable.

The withering scowl back.

Kay has no information.


I didn’t catch your name.

It’s the same as yours. Fulcrum.

And his look.

That isn’t an answer.

Cassian. Cassian Andor, Rebel Intelligence.

Now Kallus is hunting for another thread, picking at the man’s accent. Rim world. Beta quadrant. Separatist territory–in Kallus’s youth anyway.

“We take what we’re given,” Cassian replies stiffly, not looking up. There’s a ways to look up for Kallus no matter what. “Wanting a droid to take the place of a man does not make a lesser rebel.”

He’s fiddling with the insides of his droid, brows knit deep and hard.

“We don’t choose where we’re born, I suppose,” Kallus defers.

“You’re from Coruscant,” there’s a scoff to the name of his homeworld, “Tell me, Captain Kallus, do they still teach the Separatists were terrorists and radicals, railing against democracy?”

He’s never told Captain Andor his name.

“It’s hard to argue with the image of a temple burning,” Kallus replies quietly.

To say the least of the horrific, withered countenance of the Emperor that had given Kallus nightmares as a child, a fear of Jedi that lasted long into his adult life.

I don’t have to.” Cassian growls, face going hard and pinched before he’s leaning. Back down, fiddling with something in the back of his droid’s head, the lump of metal cradled in his lap like it’s the face of a child.

It’s personal, Kallus notices. This droid, this one droid matters to him or he never would have asked for the help in the first place. And it’s Imperial or any number of people probably would have helped, not just Kallus.

Kallus goes back to reattaching the droid’s right arm, to balancing the servos. He tests the motion in the metal fingers, letting the silence linger between them. He sneaks glances at the other man with the right afforded a tall, well-muscled person. No one wanted to upset him on first look, so often he could look where he pleased without issue.

Captain Andor knows he’s looking but seems bent on willfully ignoring him instead. He is a handsome man beneath the perpetual scowl, Kallus notes. Though he thinks many beings are handsome and he has no reason to believe the life of a rebel is an easy one though he’s barely begun his own.

Kallus wants to ask how he became a Fulcrum agent if he’s traveling in the company of an Imperial KX, but talks with the lilting accent of a rim-worlder.


He lets his eyes slip away, bending so his head is lower than Cassian’s. The subtle quirks of body language worked into him in Imperial Intelligence. The unspoken cues that told a person to trust. To expect authority. To yield.

Cassian doesn’t look up, adding, “You should talk to Rex. About the Clone Wars. About being a clone.”

“I’ve already spoken to Captain Rex in gratitude for his service.”

“And in your texts on history was there ever a mention of his name? Of the names of any of the clones serving the Jedi?” Cassian’s accent apparently gets more pronounced when he’s riled. A dangerous trait in an agent, perhaps.

Kallus is quiet.

“…Did he really serve under General Skywalker?” He asks finally.

“So you think he’s lying?” Cassian shoots back.

“I- No,” Kallus pushes at his hair, flattening it back, “My mentor, Colonel Yularen always…spoke highly of General Skywalker. Nothing more.”

The unspoken unease that two men who once fought for the same side so closely might face off again as enemies lingers with him.

He wonders how many times he undid the work of Cassian Andor’s hands while serving the empire.

Cassian glances at him for a moment then goes back to tightening screws with angry little jerks of his arm.

“Would you still have thanked Captain Rex if he had killed General Skywalker on command?” The Rebel snaps.

Kallus grimaces.

“I don’t know what I would have done.”

The honest answer.

Perhaps not the best one because Cassian levels a look at him, seems to peer at him.

He’s a sharp man, Kallus notes. Easily his equal and should be treated as such. Stubble and bags under the eyes like he’s been camped out in a jungle on his own, and not in the great ruins of Yavin with a company of rebels. Rough edges and hard choices.

Kallus looks back at him and is sure it shows in his face that he isn’t sure if Captain Cassian Andor, Fulcrum, is what he wants to become.

He looks at the way Cassian’s hands rest almost tenderly on the dome of the droid’s head, a throwaway pile of scrap with an Imperial logo still prominently on its arm, and thinks maybe he’s precisely what he should like to become.

Cassian’s hard eyes pinch.

“You should think carefully about programming, Captain Kallus,” his voice is very soft, a handkerchief hiding a vibroblade in a dark alley, “Not all of it is done to droids.”

“It has been thoroughly brought to my attention I ought to ask more questions. Do let me know if I bore you,” Kallus replies, keeping his tone as bland as if he’s at a core dinner dressed in gold braid.

The corner of Cassian’s mouth goes up in a humorless smile, a noiseless chuff of laughter.

He toggles a switch and the KX unit’s white eyes flick back to life.

A metal hand clamps almost immediately around Kallus’s neck.

Kallus chokes, instincts leaping hard. A second metal hand bats away his blows, unfolding limb by limb.

KAY!” Cassian shouts.

The droid’s head swiveled to him immediately.

It paused a moment, then unclamped his metal fingers from Kallus’s throat.

“…Clear of Hostiles.” A male voice intoned, a little primly.

Kallus coughed, slumped on the stones of the temple floor.

“Are you alright?” Cassian snaps, dropping to his knees with a curse.

To his surprise, Kallus laughs under his breath, rubbing his throat and jaw.

He pulls himself to his feet, waving off the other man’s hands

“Now there’s the rebel welcome I’d expected.”

Cassian’s startled into cracking a smile, quickly trying to cover it. A quiet thing.

Kallus covers his staring by patting the droid’s metal arm.

“That’s quite a loyalty subroutine your KX has.”

“I am seventy percent certain I should find that response insulting,” the droid replied pausing and flicking its white eyes to him, “I’m K2-SO. I’m a reprogrammed Imperial Droid.”

“Kallus,” Kallus intones, “Formerly ISB-021, an agent of the Imperial Security Bureau, and formerly a Fulcrum Agent in service of the Rebellion.” He pats the droid’s arm again. “You could probably consider us kindred spirits.”

Cassian’s mouth widens.

“I will not,” the droid says, once again sounding smug, “My programming is far superior to a defective Imperial Agent’s, Cassian’s seen to it.”


“Fine by me,” Kallus says, ruefully rubbing his neck, “Good Men like Captain Andor should be in good hands. Yours seem to serve more than well enough.”

Something passes into Cassian’s face that he can’t quite read.

Kallus quickly removes his hand from the droid’s arm.

“Everything seems in order.” He inclined his head in a formal bow, “Fulcrum.”

Cassian’s eyes flick over him before he nods back.


“Let me know if you need help with Imperial equipment. I’m here to do whatever good I can.”

Cassian considers this, dark eyes briefly flicking down to Kallus’s hands, then up again to his eyes. There’s fur in the lining of his coat even in the heat of Yavin, framing his face. He nods after a moment.

“I will.”

The droid turns to him.

“You will?” It repeats.

Cassian shushes Kaytoo, eyes still on Kallus. He says nothing.

Kallus smiles.

“Thank you,” he says, meaning it.

“You actually like him?” He can hear the droid say too loudly as he leaves.

Cassian’s response is murmured too low for his to hear but Kallus’ smile broadens into a grin.

“Do you want to know how I feel about strange men touching me?” the droid’s offended voice is gradually lost to the ruckus of the cargo bay.

Washboard Wednesday - Hot Damn Edition

Okay, these mini-breaks from episodes kind of suck, don’t they, Rosebud? They do. Because they could simply fill those hours with Oliver working out and we would be quite happy, right? Why don’t they do that? We are nice and good and loyal and we deserve that. 

So, this week’s WW is full of fun and angsty bloody shirtlessness. And some super flashbacks as well. I just wish you could all be privy to the text conversations between @tinaday3w and I while I sought her counsel on the photos to include this week. There was one that was just a little too naughty once I unleashed a creative filter on it. Cooler heads prevailed and Mr. Man’s modesty is retained. (Yes, I can hear you all whining from here.)

Enough chitter chatter from me. Here’s some hot damn for you, spanning the ages of Oliver. With love. 

First, nice hair, even while being tortured and almost sporting Grumpy Cat face. 

Season 1, Episode 1. I miss that towel. So much. 

I think he looks pretty hot here. It’s the angry face and the beautiful shoulder. 

Cargo pants from Season 1! And salmon ladder. Because it’s magical. 

Bloodied, broody and still beautiful. 

Prepare yourself. Yeah, I know it’s not Ollie Queen. It’s Jason the randy puppy from Hung, but do you care? Really? Tina and I are still giggling, I swear. 

Is he better in black and white? Worse? The same?

Fan girl down, yet? If so, my job is done. 

The End!!!!

And there you have Washboard Wednesday for this week, my naughty cupcakes! I hope you enjoyed it. I hope you will share with others so that they can have a smile or two. Wishing you a lovely rest of your week…until Man Face Monday.  Tags after the break. 

Keep reading

honestly, I draw my main bill so small and i love it. He reminds me of like a very small angry cat.

Dippers face looks so weird here omf

art is mine. dont repost without credit, thanks! <3

(also im not forcing you to ship it. if you dont like it then ignore it.)

Invisible // Chapter 5

Pairing: Mark x Reader x Jaebum
Words: ~2700
Genre: Angst, Drama, Fluff
Warnings: none

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 6 // Chapter 7 // Chapter 8 // Chapter 9

Keep reading

ayanostheoryofstrawberryjam  asked:

Hello! I was just dumped by my boyfriend and feel kind of depressed... May I request a drabble where Kuroo Tetsurou is comforting a crying girl in a similar situation?

I know it’s been a while since you sent this in, but I hope you’re feeling better now. Whoever he was, he made a big mistake letting you go. 

When he turned the corner and found you curled into a small ball, your shoulders trembling and small whimpers sounding from you, he was instantly kneeling beside you, an arm draped around you protectively. From what, he didn’t know, but what he did know was that he wanted to know who had done this to you and where he could find them.

“_______, what’s wrong?!” he asks a little too loudly. You look up, eyes brimming with tears, seemingly just realizing he was there.

“Kuroo?” Why was he here? And why did he look so angry?

“Who did this to you?” he practically growls, eyes livid. He was going to find whoever made you cry, and once he does… 

“N-no one,” you lie, wiping your face. “I just fell. That’s all.”

He sees through your words and stares down at you, eyes demanding that you tell the truth. His anger momentarily subsides, a feeling of childishness taking its place as he realizes that there are much more important matters to deal with first. 

His gaze softens, and he pulls you closer to him. He didn’t care if it was awkward or weird, especially since you barely talked to each other - he wanted you to know he was there for you. 

“What happened?” he asks quietly, his thumb rubbing your shoulder lightly. You sniff, a fresh wave of tears streaming down your cheeks as you recall what had happened moments prior to Kuroo’s arrival.

“He broke up with me,” you whisper brokenly between sobs. “He pulled that ‘it’s not you it’s me’ crap, too. What a bunch of bullshit!”

Kuroo waits for you to continue, patiently listening as you vented to him and confessed that you knew there was someone else your ex was interested in. At that information, he finds himself genuinely confused. He couldn’t fathom that someone thought there was another who was better than you. To him, you were perfect in every sense of the word. 

“He’s probably regretting breaking up with you now,” Kuroo mumbles under his breath.

“What do you mean?” You ask, looking up at him.

The volleyball player shifts around, considering ducking his head to avoid your gaze and deciding against it because he needed to tell you this face-to-face. “He lost someone he shouldn’t have.”

The sincerity in his voice and the look in his eyes stop time, his words repeating in your ears long after he’s said them. The way he said it almost sounded like a confession, and it occurs to you that that was the underlying message of his words. He had intended to tell you his feelings in a much different situation, but this wasn’t so bad, either.

Without a word, he pulls his arm away from you and wipes away the stray tears lingering on your face, his touch gentle and endearing as his eyes lock with yours. 

“I’m not asking for an answer,” he says quickly, the shakiness of his breath betraying the calm expression he wore, “but I just want you to know there’s someone who will cherish you properly.”

You’re left speechless by his words, and you stare at him in complete awe. He clears his throat after e moment and asks, “Will you be okay?”

You nod slowly, still affected by his sweet words, and his lips tug into a relieved smile. He murmurs a ‘good’ before rising from his spot beside you and walking away, the tips of his ears turning red as the realization of what he had just done hits him. He quickens his pace, suddenly eager to get as far away from you as possible for the moment.

You don’t notice his change in demeanor as he leaves - you don’t notice anything, really. Not after that confession. You bury your heated face into the palms of your hands, a silent squeal ghosting past your lips.

Eyes Up

Anonymous request: Reader is new to the BAU and catches Reid and Morgan staring at her.

Originally posted by prettyboyspence

I was admittedly pretty nervous. The BAU, this elite team of profilers, was my dream job, and I was having a little trouble adjusting to the fact that I’d actually made it. 

My first day there, I found myself across the desk from a severe-looking man named Aaron Hotchner, who was my new boss. I briefly wondered if he always looked so angry.

“Alright, looks like everything here is in order,” he said. “You can follow me down to meet the team.” I nodded and nervously followed him outside and down a set of stairs to a space filled with desks, where various members of what I assumed was to be my new team were sitting. 

“Everyone,” Hotchner called. They all looked up, appearing curious and inquisitive. “This is Agent (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N), she’s the newest member of our team.” I received a chorus of greetings as Hotchner led me to an empty desk. 

“This one will be yours,” he said. “Right across from you is Dr.Spencer Reid.” I smiled at the tall, lanky man with curly hair and pretty eyes. He just waved at me. 

“Over there,” Hotchner continued, prompting me to turn and look in the direction he pointed me, “we have Agents Derek Morgan, David Rossi, and Jennifer Jareau, or JJ. You know where to find me, you can call me Hotch. Also, you’ll meet our technical analyst soon, her name is Penelope Garcia. Any questions?” 

I shook my head, and he nodded, giving me a small, strained smile. 

“Alright, well, I’ll let you get settled in, then.” 

He left and I turned to my desk. 

“Hi,” I heard from behind me. I turned to see the pretty blonde he’d called JJ, and smiled at her. 

“Hi,” I said. 

“It’s really nice to meet you, I’m JJ.” I nodded and shook her hand. 

“(Y/N),” I replied. 

As I began to put things away, I caught Spencer Reid’s eye. 

“Why aren’t you ‘Agent Reid’?” I asked. 

“Because I have three PhD’s,” he said nonchalantly. I stared at him for a second, and then silently moved on. 

Later than afternoon, I was nearly finished setting up my desk, when I dropped a container of pens on the floor. I reached down, picking them up one by one, which took longer than I had thought it was going to, since the pens had rolled under the chair. When I straightened up, I glanced around to find Derek Morgan standing beside Dr. Reid, both of them with their eyes trained on me.I nervously looked down, fearful that something was amiss, but I heard a laugh behind me and turned to find David Rossi, looking at me with sparkling eyes. 

“Don’t worry, kid,” he chuckled. “Those two are only staring because you’re something worth looking at.” He winked as he clapped me lightly on the shoulder. 

“They act like they’ve never seen a beautiful woman before.” 

He laughed and walked away. When I looked back at Spencer and Derek, I found that Morgan had turned away, while Spencer just stood there, his cheeks pink, looking embarrassed. 

I smiled at him, which he returned, and I wondered what my time at the BAU was going to bring. 

Probably something very good, I decided as I settled back at my desk across from Spencer.