Look what arrived to me today!!! It’s amazing mug and bag with @tosquinha Art!!! 💙💙💙❤❤❤💞💞💞🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥
Awwwww! Faces on the bag are do cute that everyone now gonna envy me! :3 and mug is so beautiful that even the most horrible tea or coffe or anything else now will be tasting like a heaven in my mouth! xDD
Thank You @tosquinha!! I love them and I will precious them!! ❤❤❤
I was just thinking about how hilarious it must be to the YOI in-universe figure skating pro community and fan community that for all intents and purposes, as far as they can tell, Victor Nikiforov took most of the skating season off to make Yuri Katsuki fall in love with him, and as soon as he locked that shit down and showed up in public continuously lens-flaring his engagement ring, he went back to competitive skating.
“What’s your theme for the rest of this truncated season, Victor?” the press asks.
“My theme is I’M HITTING THAT, FREQUENTLY AND FOREVER,” Victor says, lens-flaring his beautiful ring in the direction of a wide eyed, frozen Yuri Katsuki.
They live apart three-quarters of the year, their physical sex life is basically nonexistent, so Jack and Bitty have a lot of pent up energy and bring all of their problems to the ice because where else are they going to hash things out? It’s a good thing they don’t play each other often, because every Falconers v. Schooners game is a nightmare of awkward chirps, agressive hugging and sexual innuendo. It’s like the worst form of couples therapy imaginable. ESPN stops putting mics on them because they can’t edit enough out to make it appropriate.
Bitty skates by, obviously furious at the call, but instead of turning on the linesman he hones in on Jack, snarling, “Seriously, a Ferrari? Trying to score some 80s side-action? I thought your whole thing was proving you aren’t your father.”
Bitty gets right up against him, pressing in tight but not moving to drop his gloves or grab at Jack’s jersey. They both know exactly what this is, and Jack pushes down the reflexive spike of want, grinning around his mouth guard.
“That’s rich coming from you – could you have purchased larger truck? Compensating for something, Itty Bitty?”
Bitty spits out his mouth guard. “After we kick your fucking ass, I’m going to take you home and remind you how ‘itty bitty’ I am.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time–”
“Enough. Save foreplay for bedroom.” Tater groans, yanking Jack away from his husband.
Jack yells, “Are we still fighting?”
“Yes!” Bitty shouts, skating backwards to his own bench. “I hate your new publicist and fuck you for approving that photo where it looks like I have two chins.”
“Fight or fuck. You do neither and ruin both.” Tater mutters over the roar of the crowd. “How you married I do not understand.”
“We only play each other a few times a year. If we get all the tough shit out when we play, we can leave it on the ice.”
From across the ice, Bitty mouths ‘love you’ and Jack blows a kiss in return. Tater gags loudly.
“That is not what ‘leave it on the ice’ supposed to mean, Zimmboni.”
Buck, I've been feeling like my head's splitting open on-and-off since Tuesday, and now I'm getting other symptoms too. Please distract me with embarrassing stories about Steve? i love those.
when steve was twelve, he broke his arm.
surprisingly, it wasn’t in a fight–he was carrying a twenty-pound bag of potatoes up the stairs for his ma and he tripped. went down the whole flight, potatoes bouncing everywhere. after he’d recovered a bit from the tumble, he sat up, looked at old mrs. mackinnon– who was just coming out of her apartment–and said “sorry for the mess.” and then he looked down and noticed that his forearm was bent in the middle. and then he started crying.
so his ma ran him to the hospital and they set his arm and put it in a cast.
and thus began the first era of the Unstoppable Steve. (the second era was after erskine made a limited edition Jumbo Steve, and the third was Steve: Reheated.)
see, if you’ve ever had a plaster cast, you know that those things are shockingly sturdy. steve went from being a sixty pound asthmatic with rage issues to being a sixty pound asthmatic with rage issues and a right hook like a piledriver. at first, his arm was too tender for him to do much, but after it started healing up, and he started getting in fights again, he figured out that his right arm was better than a baseball bat when it came to hitting stuff. that plaster cast started white, but it didn’t take long for it to get brownish with dirt and bloodstains. he still got his ass kicked, but it took a bit more work, and the other guys actually looked like they’d been in a fight.
anyway, steve was half in love with that cast. sometimes i thought he never wanted to take if off, and if it hadn’t messed with his drawing, i think he’d’ve worn it for about a year. but about a week before it was supposed to be taken off anyway, stevie got in a fight with gerry, the shoemaker’s kid from up the block. gerry was a mean sonofagun. he was thirteen, and he’d hit puberty early, so he had a solid eight inches on wee stevie. and he was as dumb as a box of bricks.
he hated steve. steve was tiny, sure, but he was sharp as a tack and well-liked. there wasn’t an old lady within miles that didn’t love stevie, so he was always getting penny candy for running errands for them. gerry had a habit of cornering stevie in alleyways and beating on him until candy fell out. steve had a habit of not letting him do it without a fight.
gerry cornered stevie and started shoving at him. steve shoved back. gerry shoved harder. stevie stumbled, and gerry threw a punch. stevie took it full in the face, and then swung back, full-force, with that sledgehammer cast of his.
steve plowed his cast into the old brick alley wall. the brick shattered.
stevie’s cast broke. so did two of stevie’s fingers.
steve started screaming.
now, understand–it was old, old brick, but all gerry saw was little crazy stevie rogers punch a hole in a brick wall and then start shrieking like a berserker. rat-brain gerry wasn’t bright, but he knew a losing battle when he saw one, so he ran like the hulk himself had just showed up in that alley. smartest thing he could’ve done, really, because i’d just shown up and if he’d kept after stevie, i’d’ve handed him his ass.
as it was, i pried stevie’s cast off and walked him back to the hospital. the doctors said his arm was plenty healed and didn’t need a new cast, and splinted up his fingers.
steve didn’t like the splints nearly as much as he’d liked the cast. they made absolutely terrible weapons.
I have an interesting question. If Hajime Shinso can't sleep at all, does that also mean he can't be knocked unconscious? The thought just crossed my mind because the state of being asleep and unconscious are really similar and there's not much of a clear line defining the two. (As a side note I JUST found your blog and I gotta say, I'm in love. ^^ Your ideas and art are amazing!!)
I’m so happy people are interested in my oc… owo
Okay since this has been asked a lot about Hajime’s quirk, I’ll make an explanation of how it works! ( I’m just THIS passionate about my character )
‘’ No sleep ‘’ is a mutant type quirk, that deprive permanently its user of sleep. The body of Hajime is made in a way that it doesn’t require any rest to survive. It’s like a phone that is always on the charge.
There are some little effects linked with this quirk. Very heavy eye bags, of course. But Hajime is also a relatively slow person. His reflexes are slower than average, and his physical abilities are also reduced. To compensate his lack of sleep, Hajime eats a lot ( Mostly chocolates, fruits and coffee )
Could he be knocked unconscious? Maybe. Because technically, being knocked unconscious is not the same thing as falling asleep. But this unconscious state, wouldn’t give him any kind of rest anyway.
I hope I explaned well enough ( and that it made some kind of sense )
Concept: Loki as an unauthorized extremely Official starter villain ‘entry exam’ for kids wanting to be superheroes.
Maybe the kids really are metahumans trying to get the hang of their powers, maybe they’re just trying to be super like Daredevil, whichever, whatever. What matters is it somehow gets around that to join such-and-such superhero team–Avengers, Young/New Avengers, X-Men, Defenders, Champions, et cetera–or just to earn the title of superhero in their own right, the wee would-be heroes have to defeat Loki.
Defeat here could mean anything from the kid with flimsy telekinesis bouncing a pebble off the god’s shin to a toddler thwarting some Devious Scheme to jaywalk by herding Loki to the crosswalk.
A new Jubilee-flavored mutant shows up with more glitter in their arsenal than pyrokinesis, but when their twinkling might strikes the god, Loki crumples onto the sidewalk, prone and vanquished.
Loki tries to steal some trinket from a street vendor and is stopped by the child alternately speaking faux-magical spells or poking their side with a pink plastic scepter.
However it goes down Loki curses their heroism even as they pass out goodie bags of very definitely not stolen swag from miscellaneous hero teams. Loki points out communicators and superhero phone numbers that the kids should call as often as physically possible. Like, constantly. Especially in the middle of the night. Superheroes love that.