the master of handshakes

DJ Otabek and Friends Headcanons

-Beka and Leo are both majoring in music and are friends because Beka was once remixing Still Alive for a gig and Leo LOVED his version.

-His most popular mixes are actually those of classical music. Beka wants everyone to appreciate the classics.

-Beka met his DJ friends once while walking home from skating practice and they were about to rob him when they realized he is that guy with the sick beats!!!

-Beka is the designated smol of the group. He may not be as big, buff or scary as them but they adore him and what he does.

-Beka bans DJ friends from seeing him skate because they cause such an uproar…he thinks they’re worse than Yuri’s Angels sometimes.

-DJ friends are very protective of him. While they smoke, drink etc. they keep Beka away from that “Heyy man it’s okay for us but don’t you dare try this stuff for yourself!”

-DJ friends also apologise to Beka and correct themselves when they curse infront of him “Oh fuk! Sorry Otabek! I mean oh fudge!”

-He introduces DJ friends to classic literature/music because deep down we all know Beka is still a nerd with a badass passion.

-Beka didn’t explicitly tell them he had a crush on Yuri but they noticed how happy he gets when he watches Yuri skate on tv.

-DJ friends steal Beka’s phone to stalk Yuri and are like “Daaaam bro you scored a hottie! What’s your secret???”

-When Beka returned from the tea date his DJ friends wanted all the details “Well??? How was it??? Did you get some???” Beka just gives them a thumbs up and they throw him the DOPEST PARTY EVER because they are sooo proud of him!

-DJ friends are actually just as mad as we fangirls are that Beka’s bronze was stolen from him…R.I.P JJ.

-The guy who books Beka’s gigs is SUPER RICH but also SUPER CHILL and thinks Beka can make in the industry if he decides to make DJing a full time thing.

-The first time Beka invites Yuri to a gig DJ friends notice how nervous he is to make everything is perfect and they decide to make sure nothing would ever ruin any of Otayuri’s dates.

-At first Yuri gets real jealous of DJ friends but they assure him Beka is all for him.

-Beka and DJ friends have this real complicated handshake that Yuri is determined to master!

-DJ friends are the biggest Otayuri shippers! Someone flirts with one of them??? “Hey you slut! Don’t you see they’re taken???” Someone thinks their relationship is wrong??? “WTF you been saying about our OTP???”

-Don’t ever try to mess with Otayuri because DJ friends are always around to beat the shiz out of you if you even look at them funny!

-You just KNOW Viktuuri/Mila/Grandpa Plisetsky will interrogate Beka AGAIN for not telling them before about this “double life” of his and DJ friends!

-His DJ name probably used to be something badass but when Beka’s DJ friends heared Yuri call him Beka there was no going back.

-Otayuri gift eachother cat ear headphones and they use them ALL THE TIME.

anonymous asked:

hello!! did you see the pictures/videos of the cute little boy who went to seventeen's fansign? i was wondering if you could please write how seventeen would be with their 5-year-old child? thank you!!

- sometimes he likes to carry them around the house with one arm as if they weigh nothing
- puts their drawings up on the fridge
- goes insane when his kid does anything cute
- likes to pick them up and spin them around because it makes them laugh
- checks the closet for any monsters

- lets them play with his hair
- falls asleep on the couch with his kid in his arms
- likes feeding them even if they can do it themselves just fine
- takes as many pictures as he can to remember these precious moments, probably gets them printed out and has five albums filled with pictures of them together
- “whose baby are you?” “dad’s baby!!”

- spoils them way too much
- his kid speaks a mix of korean and english, and joshua’s like oops….
- has the ability to stop their crying in a second
- teaches them to always be good and humble, to say please and thank you all the time
- basically he’s raising a gentleman like himself
- sometimes he just stares at them lovingly and his kid just grins at him and he melts

- his kid is always sitting on his lap
- he likes to rest his chin on his kid’s head
- ruffles their hair when they do a good job
- always asking his kid for hugs and kisses
- one time his kid winked at him and he fainted

- wears matching clothes with his kid
- plays dress-up with them and lets them sit on his back while he crawls around the house
- they buy all the snacks at the grocery store and eat them all in the same day
- dances around while his kid holds his hands and has their feet on his
- keeps his kid laughing and smiling all day long

- reads them bedtime stories
- he and his kid have matching bedhair in the morning
- his kid likes to follow him around everywhere like a little duckling following its mother
- when he’s sitting on the couch playing a game, his kid likes to climb onto the couch and backhug him while watching him play
- his kid pokes his cheek when trying to wake him up

- his kid likes to hug his leg and jihoon has to walk around the house dragging them along with him
- he acts like he doesn’t like it but HE LOVES IT
- always makes sure they drink their milk so they grow tall
- his kid likes to sit on his lap while watching him play the piano
- they can talk to each other with their eyes

- makes funny faces to make them laugh
- they’re always excitedly screaming when they’re together
- always understands what his kid wants/is trying to say
- “which one do you want?” “(makes fishy face)” “ah ok we’ll have tuna please”
- his kid has his smile

- lets them sit on his shoulders
- “dad!! it’s like i can see the world!!”
- almost trips on his kid because they’re so small and he didn’t see them
- bakes cute desserts with them
- cooks them their favorite meals whenever they want
- “i know we had it yesterday but can you cook it again, dad??” “anything for you”

- his kid runs up to him and hugs him the second they see him after getting back from school/daycare
- buys them really stylish clothes
- seriously his kid is so well dressed, they might as well be a toddler model
- they’re always telling each other they love one another
- “dad, i have to tell you a secret!!” “what is it?” “(whispers) i love you” “(whispers back) i love you too”

- refuses to let go of his kid’s hand
- kisses them every two seconds
- always cups their cheeks
- cries whenever his kid gives him something
- makes them wear cute onesies

- smiles fondly whenever they do ANYTHING, his heart just melts
- they bump their ice creams/popsicles together before eating them
- actual memes together
- they make the EXACT same facial expressions
- carries his kid in his arms all day long, masters cooking and cleaning with one hand

- makes up a cool handshake for them both
- wakes up early to watch cartoons with his kid
- matching pyjamas
- tickle fights
- gets excited over the smallest things

yes i did, the little boy was too cute!! thank you for your request!!

Bruce and Batkids Age Reversal AU Tidbit based on this post.
alternate title: oops i wrote a thing.

a thing: jason arrives.

Alfred Pennyworth heard the secondary alarm go off, but didn’t think much of it when Bruce hollered up the stairs, “It’s nothing!” They’d been having wiring issues with it recently anyway. He assumed all was well, based on Bruce’s assessment, until he went back downstairs to the kitchen twenty minutes later.

There was a rough-looking young man sitting at the kitchen counter, eating a sandwich, while Bruce sat next to him swinging his legs from his perch on the stool.

“What,” is all Alfred could manage upon entering the room.

The man looked up and shook the hair out of his eyes. His leather jacket was draped over the back of the chair and there was a knife strapped in a sheath at his side. Alfred had assumed from his posture that he was in his mid-twenties, but when their eyes met Alfred recalculated for a very street-smart sixteen or seventeen.

“Hiya,” he said, wiping a hand on his pants and then holding it out for a handshake. Alfred didn’t take it.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred said, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m Jason,” the teen said, biting into the sandwich again. “B here found me in the hall and swore he wouldn’t call the cops if I sat down and ate something.”

“I did make that offer, yes,” Bruce said, his serious tone belying his thin, young voice and short stature. He might catch up to Thomas Wayne yet but he was far, far from it now. “It was contingent on you promising to stop stealing, which you did.”

“I did promise,” the teen agreed. “But I’m sure as hell not gonna keep that. I gotta, to survive.”

“I made no such promise,” Alfred said stiffly, reaching for the phone. “I am indeed phoning the police and advise you to make a hasty exit.”

“Well, that’s more’n most people give me,” Jason acknowledged amiably. “See ya around, B.”

“Alfred Pennyworth,” Bruce said sharply. “We will not be chasing away a boy who clearly needs our help.”

“I’m good,” Jason said.

“A boy,” Alfred echoed, his hand stayed by the order. Even guardianship had trouble chasing away years of ingrained training and habit. “You, Master Bruce, are a boy. This is…”

He looked at him, at the thin ribs under the worn shirt. The leather jacket Jason was now shoving his arms into was cracked and stiff, possibly stolen or a hand-me-down, but old and falling apart.

Alfred sighed. Perhaps they could offer some–

“You may stay here,” Bruce announced archly. “Then you will not need to steal. We will provide food and clothes in exchange for…” he hesitated, suddenly looking childlike as he came to the point he had not thought out before speaking. It was like watching a train wreck, Alfred thought– he had no idea where the lad was going, either, but it struck him as something that a child should absolutely not be allowed to decide. Still, it was more decisive and animated than Alfred had seen him for days, weeks.

“I don’t have anything worth offering,” Jason said with a shrug. “Thanks for the sandwich.”

“…security.” Bruce said with a pleased smirk. “We require additional security.”

Alfred and Jason looked in tandem down at the knife strapped to Jason’s leg.

“Master Bruce…” Alfred began, and then sighed.

“I’m not trained, you know,” Jason warned. “I fight dirty.”

“So do attempted kidnappers,” Bruce said with a slight frown. “I fail to see the problem.”

Alfred closed his eyes for a brief moment, collecting himself. He knew there was no use arguing with his young charge, but maybe a few weeks would pass and the older boy would grow bored or take off with the silverware and they could all call it a learning experience.

“I will prepare a room,” Alfred said, turning to leave. “Please, finish your food. No point in letting it go to waste.”

Jason froze and then slowly took his jacket back off, bewildered but clearly desperate enough to risk staying. He sat down and when Alfred left the kitchen, he heard their conversation chasing him through the halls:

“Your butler’s pretty fucking sweet. Oh, hell, I shouldn’t…you’re like, six, I should watch my mouth. He doesn’t boss you around?”

“I’m nine,” Bruce corrected stiffly. “And I’m kind of in charge around here.”

Alfred sighed again.

It wasn’t like Bruce was wrong.

The Doctor Falls (Doctor Who) & Sherlock parallels

Previous Doctor Who/Sherlock parallels in Series 10:

The Pilot (opening episode of Doctor Who Series 10) & Sherlock parallels

The Smile (Doctor Who) & (smiley) Sherlock

The Smile (Doctor Who) & Sherlock parallels

Thin Ice (Doctor Who) & Sherlock Parallels

Knock Knock (Doctor Who) & Sherlock parallels

Oxygen (Doctor Who) & Sherlock parallels

Extremis (Doctor Who) & Sherlock Parallels

The Pyramid at the End of the World (Doctor Who) & Sherlock parallels

The Lie of The Land (Doctor Who) & Sherlock parallels

Empress of Mars (Doctor Who) & Sherlock parallels

The Eaters of Light (Doctor Who) & Sherlock parallels

World Enough And Time (Doctor Who) & Sherlock parallels

And a look back at Series 9 etc parallels here

And: Looking back: Jenny & Vastra & Foreshadowing The Plan

This episode was once again written by Steven Moffat and directed by Rachel Talalay, who also directed Sherlock’s The Six Thatchers.

Missy and The Master circling The Doctor, asking how many times and ways he has died: “Have you burned?”= Moriarty saying “I will burn the heart out of you” in The Great Game. “I know you’ve fallen,” obviously ties into the title The Doctor Falls- and Sherlock of course has literally ‘fallen’ in The Reichenbach Fall. And The Master’s last quip: “Have you ever drowned?” makes me think of the original ACD canon, and Holmes and Moriarty plunging into The Reichenbach Falls. (And “drowned Redbeard” in The Final Problem…)

  • An even more explicit callback to The Reichenbach Fall and Sherlock falling off the roof of St Barts with Missy saying to The Doctor: “We might just chuck you off the roof.”
  • Missy says of The Doctor: “Love it when he’s Mr Volcanowhen he is ‘internalising’ his emotions. See this quote by Steven Moffat:  “Sherlock Holmes, again, must have sexual impulses. (…) The fact is, he decides to put all that in an iron box to make his brain work better. He wants to rise above us like a snowcapped mountain, but he’s actually a volcano, and that’s where the story is. That’s where the story is.
  • The Master asking the Doctor “What have we missed?”= Moriarty asking Sherlock “What have I missed?” in The Reichenbach Fall.
  • The Doctor saying that Bill’s mind is acting like a “perception filter”, and it’s so strong that it’s ‘built itself a castle.’= makes me think of the theories in The Final Problem of Sherrinford symbolising John’s mind in turmoil/lockdown as he lies there, shot.

“Where there’s tears, there’s hope….” [insert John crying in Sherlock’s arms in The Lying Detective]

  • Missy once more uses an umbrella as a weapon like Mycroft does in The Final Problem.
  • The Doctor saying “You can always fool a monkey brain with a little bit of theatre.”= there is a lot of misdirection in Sherlock, like sleight of hand in magic tricks, to distract the audience- and for a more literal take on ‘theatre’, see: Sherlock Series 4 as “Epic Theatre.” & this Moriarty ‘Applause’ addition.
  • A weapon used against the cybermen is an apple= Moriarty carving ‘IOU’ into an apple in The Reichenbach Fall.

Missy shaking hands with The Doctor even though she’s telling him she will not stand with him, but she’s disguising her true intentions… hello, Misleading Handshake Hell, WE HAVE A SHERLOCK COUNTERPART FOR YOU ;) See this (pre-series 4) post by @waitedforgarridebs on a “deleted” handshake scene between Moriarty and Mycroft.

  • Missy and The Master killing each other in front of each other… ahem, to quote Steven Moffat on Sherlock and Moriarty: “Do you think they went up on that roof and faked suicide at each other?!” ;)

I’ve so enjoyed writing up all my posts for this series, and thank you all for reading, hope you’ve enjoyed them! I’ll still be doing the same for Christmas… once more unto the breach, dear friends. ;) <3

anonymous asked:

Merc handshakes?

  • Scout: His brothers told him that a strong handshake was a sign of dominance and confidence, so he always gives the strongest, most violent handshakes he can pull off. He didn’t believe Spy when he was told that nobody likes hand-crushing handshakes, especially not girls and ladies.
  • Soldier:  “You’re not a real man if you don’t hear a cracking upon shaking hands, maggot!” You feel like your hands had a meeting with a vise. He’s a knuckle cruncher!
  • Pyro: He doesn’t really understand the concept of shaking hands. If someone reaches their hand out to him, he usually just grabs it and starts jumping and dancing in circles with the other person.
  • Demo: He gives warm and firm handshakes. Friends often get a handshake with both hands, a pat on the shoulder or even a hug. Sometimes he’s a bit too eager and excited when he meets new people, though.
  • Heavy: Surprisingly gentle. Sure, he could crush every single one of your bones, but he learned to control his strength a long time ago.
  • Engie: His hands are very calloused, strong and always warm. He instinctively knows which handshake to give at which time. He likes to pat the arm or shoulder too.
  • Medic: His handshakes are a bit firmer than they should be, but people usually don’t complain because they’re tricked by his incredibly charming, winning smile.
  • Sniper: One quick and firm squeeze, then he lets go again. He tries to avoid physical contact as much as possible.
  • Spy: Firmness, amount of shakes, shake duration - everything’s perfect. He’s pretty much the master of handshakes (and hand kisses for the ladies). His hands are often cool, but he still takes off his gloves before a handshake because etiquette dictates it.

Even when Bruce can’t remember him, Clark tries to show him the most affection he possibly can, with Bruce barely knowing him.

The two-handed handshake: the greater the level of intimacy between the two people (or the greater the desire to create a close relationship).


Another night, another charity gala. Sometimes Molly found it hard to believe that there were enough charities in Gotham City that she had a party to attend every single weekend, but really, she didn’t mind too much. She had fun dressing up, even if the heels hurt after a while, and it was only a few hours of polite conversation, a few laughs, and a lot of handshakes. She had mastered the art in the short time since her parents had died—she was shaping up to be quite the heiress.

However, in this moment, she wanted to escape to the balcony for some privacy. Her escape would’ve been foolproof, if she hadn’t accidentally stepped on the edge of her amber-toned ball-gown and tripped. She almost took another person down in the process, but instead, she just fell in a puddle of satin and tulle at his feet. She groaned and shook her head, not looking up for the moment.

“I am so sorry—I didn’t step on you or anything, did I?”

starcrossedromantic  asked:

Knock knock, someone is at your door Maru. Upon opening it, the chachaoong would be met with a familiar smiling space robot, though unlike other times, this time he had a child standing by his side. "Hello~!"


//The robot master gets greeted with a firm handshake and side-hug, Maru then peering down at the child with an awed smile.//

“Oh my…Is this little one the child you showed me then? What a fantastic look! Please come in, both of you!”

Through Hell With A Smile || (Zombie AU)

“…make me this, bring me up, bring me down, playing sweet, make me move like a freak..”

Dust and concrete. A dreary scenery, dry and cold and void of hope. In another light, it would have been remarkable what a couple of years of civilizations’ absence could do to a city like this. If he had been walking down the deserted road over there, the buttery sweet scent of the bakery on the left would have seduced him, while busy men wearing ties and women in pencil skirts would have rushed past him, ignoring the chocolate cakes and vanilla cookies altogether. The high office building right on the other side would have spilled them around noon, eager to grab a quick lunch and the news of the day all in twenty minutes before their desk and duty called them back again. Cars probably would have honked when one of them was too impatient to wait for a green light, kids would have bugged their mothers about fresh donuts and some mildly entertaining story of their day in school. Newspapers would have been sold at every second corner, while colours and lights and noises flashed and echoed into a headache-worthy symphony of bustling city life.

But that would have been if he had walked these streets a few years ago, which he had not. Nowadays, no one simply walked any kind of streets anymore if they could help it. The wonderful, drowsy order of every day life had taken the beauty of the city with it, and it would not return. Dust and concrete. That was what was left.

It had not been long enough to let nature reach out for this place again, yet too long to leave much of a trace of hope for those who had been left behind to witness it. The buildings stood like the forgotten, crumbling monuments of mankind against the grey sky, sad and lonely. Some of them carried traces of what had been humanity’s last resort before all of it had crashed. Broken windows, crumbling walls, missing rooftops and skyscrapers whose crowns had been ripped off like they were sticks of wood instead. Some of them had had their shells cracked by bombs and other radical means of destruction, or defense. A little further ahead he could see a house whose still somewhat shiny steel skeleton framed the ruins of its intestines like a piece of morbid, modern art. One of those skulptures made of rusty metal junk, a leaking watering can and an ugly rainboot that looked like they belonged in the trash rather than a museum. It had always been difficult for him to find the artistic statement in those, and now this city was no different. For shame. Once, he had loved cities more than any other playground.

“..some guys from school had a band and we tried real hard, Jimmy quit and Joey got married, shoulda known we’d never get far..”

The song he was singing was no song, and he did not actually sing it. As he pressed into the shadows of the corpse of a once exquisite Mercedes Benz, his lips kept on moving. He muttered almost without a voice, and certainly without mind. It had become a habit too hard to shake yet too risky not to be muted, at least. In the woods, he had never had to worry about speaking too loud, except when on a hunt. This place was different though, and if he ever wanted to see the end of it, he had to know how to keep himself quiet. Still his lips performed the movement. It made him nervous not to recite these lyrics. There were no thoughts on his mind worth discussing, and he needed the stimulation. Without it, surely, he would have gone insane long ago. Some would argue that he already was, but so far he cared little for the judgement of others. If only there had been someone around capable of judging him! It would have sufficed. It would have eased his suffering.

In fact, there was no other reason than this for him to be here. After rummaging in the little village some miles from his resting place - it had never been his home, no, his home was gone and most likely dead and he would spill no more tears for it anymore - just another time, in search of anything useful, a particulary nostalgic radio had fallen into his hands. The survival rate of loaded batteries had been one of Asmodeus’ more positive finds after electricity had given out. God knew what had driven him to give it a try. What little spark of hope, or maybe the memory of some horror movie he had watched long ago, had made him put it up and skim the frequencies. God also knew how his heart hadn’t quit with the big bump delivered when, for real, he had heard somebody talk. In the beginning, the meaning of the words had been so far from him, the sheer joy of hearing a different voice than his own performing whole sentences seering through him so intensely his knees had almost given out.

However, when his first shock had settled in his bones, which had still been quivering, yet had kept him upright, Asmodeus had been able to actually understand just what they were talking about. One hour later, he had already forgotten more than ninety percent of the message again. Only the important bits had stuck, and he had repeated the words in his head and with his mouth until his lips had dried out and his thoughts had been spinning. Base. Survivors. North Dakota. Minot. Calling Out. So simple. So clear. The journey promising to be so insanely difficult that his chances of survival would have been better if he had spent the winter out in the woods without a fire. Yet Asmodeus had known exactly what he was to do from there.

A desperate heart should not be underestimated. He had made it, against all odds. Mostly by motorcycle - a not so old thing he had freed from the grip of a dozen dirty, bloody hands and almost all the filth before sucking every last drop of oil and gas from any motorized vehicle around to fill the tank, and some extra. There had been no space or time to bring food or anything else. Just a bit of water, an extra canister of petrol, his clothes, four knives, two guns plus ammunition, and a lighter. That was all he took with him for the almost sixteen hundred miles of way. Anything else he needed he would have to find on the road, or off it. He had avoided bigger highways and cities, tried to keep himself near nature and off the once populated areas. It had been his hardest travel yet, and it had almost killed him twice. Starved and sunburned and with two hours of solid sleep within the last two weeks he had made it though. He was here. He had made it. How much time had passed between the message and his arrival was hard for him to tell. Even harder when a part of him began to fear that maybe, those people were dead by now as well, and he was now ducking and running and swallowing dust for nothing, and had been doing it all along for even less. Hope was such a vile thing.

“..Master of the house, doling out the charm, ready with a handshake and an open palm, tells a saucy tale, makes a little stir, customers appreciate a bon-viveur..”

A musical song. What play it was from, he wouldn’t have been able to tell anymore. Too many of them stuck in his head, all of them having rolled from his tongue a hundred times by now. Sometimes, he even whispered them in his sleeps, making himself wake up from it. Searching for the voice and lips next to him that should have been the cause. But there had never been any.

Asmodeus moved on. Summer was fading, and the mild breeze howling through dead buildings and empty streets felt good on his cracked lips. A few hot days were still to come though, and his only hope for them was to be as short as possible. Maybe rainy. That would have been so nice. When he scurried past another dark alley, he still held his gun clutched to his side, and a more or less light broken off piece of a metal pipe in his other hand. It was handier than most other weapons to keep the monsters at bay. Besides, he was running out of bullets. If he didn’t find a trace of the group he was searching for soon, he would be done for. Asmodeus doubted that the city had been cleansed of absolutely every creature that had once gone for a walk with the dog in the local park around. He had no idea where to go, and even less of where to start his search. The Minot Air Force Base that had been mentioned had to be around somewhere.

If only he had still possessed the energy to cling to that thought for a little longer. The man could feel his heart pumping like crazy in these unfamiliar streets, expecting bad around the next corner and worse within the alley that followed. He switched between running and crouching, pressing against walls and hunching within shadows. Every rustle of wind or creaking of an half open door shot him back into fight or flight mode, no matter how tired he felt. He wanted to cry and lean against a wall and wait for who or whatever to find him instead, for how long had he been moving about like this in this godforsaken place by now? At least three days. It might have been three weeks for all his body cared though. There was no real difference. Whenever he had heard heavy footsteps or quiet growling he had picked up pace towards the other direction, never looking back. Not daring to look back once.

“…be teachers, be politicians, be preachers, be believers, be leaders, be astronauts, be champions, be truth seekers..”

But Asmodeus was tired now. Tired and hopelessly lost. He couldn’t shake the thought that he had only just passed the same crossroads as he had about a day before as well. And yet again, he could hear the rustling of heavy breathing coming from somewhere too close for his liking. The city was usually silent safe for the wind and them. Asmodeus had asked it again and again where he was, where he should go, had pleaded with her to give him any sort of sign, or at least a drop of water. She had never answered. Only now someone did, and suddenly Asmodeus would have taken silence over anything else every day. Nothing screamed out loneliness more than this did.

Because he was alone. He had been alone for so long. And soon, he knew, he would die just as alone, and no one ever would remember. Certainly not his killers. His grip of his blistered fingers around the pipe tightened and he began to run.


VKook ..the trot masters return!!!♥  \( ̄▽ ̄)/


Quinn Cook: Master of Handshakes