idk about this :o

Fanon Lotor be like

i am not even sorry just take this

anonymous asked:

sonny👏🏻and👏🏻pete👏🏻height👏🏻differences👏🏻

👏I AGREE👏

although weirdly enough out of all the people i can remember pete interacting with in the show, as far as i can tell, hes only taller than sonny and daniela,, which is weird to think about, he just seems really tall because he literally only stands by tiny tiny sonny

even so! he’s the perfect height,,

the perfect height difference for hugs and forehead kisses,, how lucky we all are

Summary: During Digestivo. Hannibal prepares himself & an unconscious Will for their final conversation. 

Hannibal carried him inside. Chiyoh offered to help. He was tired, after all. Frozen and bloodied, hair mopped to the side of his face, shoulders tense and stiff from having been tied back. But he refused, a silent shake of his head and Chiyoh backed away. Walked to the field, rifle in hand. He allowed himself a moment to appreciate her. How, wordlessly, she knew. This was something he must do alone.

Will lay slumped in the backseat, arms limp on the floor. Dead weight. Hannibal felt the same strain he had the night before when he carried him, though he no longer had adrenaline fueling his body. He brought Will, slow, up the steps, across the porch, over the threshold, reveling in every second of pain the twinge in his back sent lighting up his spine.

Hannibal laid Will down delicate onto his bed. Careful not to wake him with too much movement. Fearing he might break.

He’d need some time to think. Prepare. More time than Will’s body was unconsciously willing to give, so he gave two gentle flicks to the syringe, a steady gentle pressure on the plunger, and Will’s sleep took on a far more tranquil rhythm. He drifted deeper. Hannibal, finally, exhaled.

He took a step back, took a moment. Contemplated the door. It stood open behind him, winter chill seeping in through the gap. And then there was the car. Chiyoh. The ease with which he could disappear. It was, he knew, the most practical option. He could make his way to the coast and set sail, heading someplace quiet and obscure, somewhere Will would surely never find him. He’d have to leave quickly in order to get far enough. He’d have to leave now. Hannibal’s eyes, resting on the doorknob, flicked back to the bed. To Will’s pillow flattened curls, the iron streaks of dried blood along his jawline.

He shut the door quietly, though he knew Will was sedated. Nodded to Chiyoh through the window and set to work. 

He took care of himself first, Will’s shower rattling to life, blood peeling off him here and there, ripping off soaking bandages. Ignoring, as best he could, the cold and awful weight inside his chest. The feeling of his lungs filling with water. Water stinging sharp against the brand on his back, the burn raw, white hot pain in every corner of his body.

Deep, drying breaths. Hannibal redressed himself, his wounds. Turned his attention to Will. He undressed him as slowly as time would allow, fingers gliding over skin with each gentle tug of fabric. Placed a cloth over what Will would not want him to see, wrestling down the urge to look. He’d never looked before and he wouldn’t now, Will was worth more than that. Although.

Hannibal sat up straight and felt, all around him, a tension. An uncomfortable air of finality. A penultimate afternoon. He looked back down at Will.

This could very well be his last chance to look. Admire.

Still, he didn’t. He did allow himself one thing, though, face in the crook of Will’s neck. A deep, slow inhale. Committing the scent to memory, locking it in its own room near the center of his mind, before he began with the water.

There were parts of Will still caked in blood from days prior, places Mason’s men hadn’t taken care of. Patches of rough blood stuck to the skin on his chest, stomach, spilt from where Hannibal had opened his head. He couldn’t deny the bizarre amusement he felt cleaning up the fallout from something he had inflicted, though of course, with Will, it wasn’t the first time. His eyes narrowed as his musings led him to the terrible realization that this would, in fact, be the last time. 

Dabbing gently with warm water, watching close as beads of it rolled across Will’s hips, dripping off his waist. Hannibal changed the bandages on Will’s shoulder. Cleaned the wound across his forehead. Slow and somehow far too quick. He took his deliberate time pressing Will dry with a towel, dressed him up again in warm and comfortable clothes. Smoothing the hair across his forehead, resting his fingers against Will’s face.

He knew this would be the last time. Of course he knew. The last time his hands would grip his face. The last time he’d lay him down onto a bed. Hannibal closed his eyes and lived, for only a fraction of a second, in a world where the opposite was true. Where these actions were the first of many times.

…It was still possible. A tiny sliver of possibility rested inside Will, the chance that his journey sparked a deeper understanding of the truth of him, the truth of Hannibal. How those truths fit together.

But then there was the truth of the bullet wound in Will’s shoulder. The ugly scar across his head. The reality of their situation sat thick at the back of Hannibal’s throat, cold in his stomach.

This was the last time.

So, he cleaned up. Discarded old bandages, positioned Will comfortably, carried a chair to his bedside. Hannibal flipped to a new page in his journal, pausing to open the levy, let icy dread flood through his veins and into his pen. Worked, diligent, at solving the problem that teacups and time had laid out before him.

merry christmas @rubiarts / @straight-outta-nohr!

i heard you like roy

I think about Oikawa being able to use and wear make up like, a lot. like when he was younger and grew up with his older sister, he’d always ask her to let him use it too. she would smile and let him put some on, and even though it’d look messy the first few times they’d both have fun with it. he even used to let her put it on him until he finally learned to apply it really well on himself.

he’d wear it when he goes out to the mall with his sister or to eat, or wherever, and he feels super pretty and good about himself.

when he meets Iwa for the first time he’s wearing his makeup and poor Iwa almost confused him for a really pretty girl. Oikawa wasn’t offended, but he found it hilarious because Iwa was so flustered as he kept apologizing.

eventually he invites Iwa over for a sleepover and Oikawa shows him his ever growing makeup kit his sister bought for him. Iwa is pretty impressed, then he shyly asks if he could wear some too. Oikawa is beaming.

they wear it occasionally in grade and middle school, but when they get to high school they both stop wearing it because they suddenly feel super self conscious. they don’t wanna get made fun of by their volleyball team senpais.

then they reach their third year and they go to a party. they debate about wearing makeup but in the end they decide screw it, we’re wearing makeup, we don’t care anymore. it’s been a couple years since they’ve worn any, and they feel so happy because they still look beautiful and they’ve missed it.

Iwa shows up wearing dark eye shadow and cat-eye eyeliner, while Oikawa’s wearing purple lipstick, some mascara and glittery eye shadow. they look amazing and they know it. Oikawa brought a bag with him to hide behind the couch filled with makeup products in case of an emergency.

through the night they eventually run into Mattsun and Makki, and they’re terrified. they’re best friends, but they haven’t told them their little secret that’s right on their faces.

but instead of laughing Makki and Mattsun are just… speechless? they’re not laughing? they tell Oikawa and Iwa that they look gorgeous, they ask where they got their makeup done, and Oikawa just.. wants to cry. he does, and it ruins the mascara. Iwa fixes it for him and Mattsun and Makki are impressed.

they ask if they could get them both to put on makeup for them because they wanna try it too. they happily do it for them; Oikawa is busy applying a pretty shade of pink on Makki’s lips while Iwa is putting cat eyes on Mattsun. they all look good af and they have a fun time at the party.

on monday, they all show up to volleyball practice showing off, and everyone is pretty much in awe because their senpais look really good.

they now wear it whenever they have sleepovers or when they finally start dating.