their faces here i cannot

good morning, it’s me: Bad Cat

10 | You’ll Never Walk Alone



series warnings: mature themes, strong language, violence, substance abuse, eventual smut. this chapter contains graphic content such as violence and alcohol

Originally posted by aestheticvbts

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I know the ‘ha’ it’s the sound effect for hard breathing as Watanuki runs for his life but it also looks like the giant off screen ~mystery thing~ is just slowly laughing at him. 

And I say ~mystery thing~ but it’s definitely Mokona. 





Oh NO. 




This is a make-up test - Geistermaske as Hal “Otacon” Emmerich from Metal Gear 4.

Pictures taken by me, textualpoacher.

Please excuse me while I cry.

Have you seen our pictures together?



Snake Solo

anonymous asked:

Did you know that libra has got a low strenght growth of 25%, which is one of the lowest str growths in the game? Not only that but his str growths are the same as lissa's, libras got the arms of a little girl lmao

Hey man, he’s more the cleric sort, he doesn’t nEED TO HAVE A HIGH STR GROWTH (and besides, I class him as a dark knight as soon as it’s convenient anyway, it’s all about that mag stat akjfkahgjfhagf)

But besides that, I mean. Lissa is pretty strong. Like. Have you seen her in Warriors? Girl’s wielding a big ol axe. I wouldn’t wanna get hit by her or anything.

And then because apparently I’m not done with this subject, he is implied to be fairly physically strong in a few of his supports (especially the supports with Virion) and like?? the stats don’t mirror that but don’t be mean, anon–

fiki week, day two - inspired by art:  pirate au

Dwalin had once asked him, bare-headed and rough-skinned, if he’d rather have stayed safe and dry at home, after all. Fili’s gaze had naturally sought Kili, and found his familiar frame pinned against a hazy dawn, his hair still damp from a stormy night on deck. He’d been smiling his secret smile, the young rogue, all pink lips and starlit eyes, his shoulders curled in Fili’s jacket against the morning chill. “No,” Fili had simply said. He couldn’t have longed for home if he wanted to. Home had set sail with him a long time ago, and it was standing right in front of him, mischievous and beautiful and more his than his very soul had ever been. ~by rillils

because-imma-lady-assface  asked:

I like your kind of science.

Oh yes. Science is VERY important. We need to research all we can! Many, many subjects including but not limited to…

Sweaty shoulders and back and flowy hair:

Sexy jaw clenches:

Amazing arms and chest:

The thing that happens when he is out of breath:

And whatever the hell he’s doing with his face here that I find so amazingly attractive for a reason I cannot explain:

Yes. SCIENCE!! Very important. Stay in school, kids!

*this has been a public service announcement brought to you by the Beka Loves Sam Winchester Foundation*

Stay with me

Based on “Imagine pleading with Thranduil to heal the Durins as they all still have a glimmer of life left in them and you know that he has the ability to save them” from ImaginexHobbit.


Cautiously, wary of stray orcs that might yet be lurking in the depths of Ravenhill’s tunnels, you ventured onto the ice at the tower’s base.

A lone figure lay close at hand, and as you edged nearer, casting a glance across the frozen river to where a handful of your comrades searched the rocky terrain for casualties of the battle, it was quickly apparent that the body was not that of an elf. He was smaller, stocky and powerfully built, wearing a heavy leather coat rather than gleaming armor, and a mane of golden hair framed a handsome, bearded face with eyes as blue as the sky they no longer saw.

The dwarf’s rugged beauty stirred a strange rush of pity in your heart and you sheathed your sword to sink to your knees beside him, feeling yourself unsettled by a deep sympathy for this poor, lost soul who had been your enemy only hours before. His lifeless face spoke wrenchingly to you of youth, strength, nobility, hopes for the future all cut short at the merciless hands of an orc, judging from his wounds. Carefully, though you could not have told why, you took his broad, gloved hand between your own and held it as if to comfort him before reaching to close his eyes in a futile gesture of compassion.

Your fingertips gently touched his face and you started, as though you’d been stung, instantly withdrawing your hand.

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