yeah right bro

° ✧ WANDER OVER YONDER PROMPTS.

❛ The universe, will soon be MINE! ❜
❛ I’m takin’ you all the way down to Awesome Town. ❜
❛ Are you here to watch the planets align, too? ❜
❛ Look! I even packed a piiicniiiiic! ❜
❛ Crazy, huh? ❜
❛ It’s kind of embarrassing. ❜
❛ Why do ya wanna know? ❜
❛ Dude, text me that photo! ❜
❛ Peepers! Are you telling me what to do?! ❜
❛ Carry on. ❜
❛ I got two turkey sandwiches, But I’ll let you pick! ❜
❛ Mustard or Mayo? ❜
❛ I said I wanted this to be true to life! ❜
❛ That’s what always happens. ❜
❛ People who do this for a living deserve more credit and respect! ❜
❛ We gotta animate a new ending where I destroy ______! ❜
❛ When I see someone who’s a-needin’, I just gotta help! ❜
❛ What a neat little town! ❜
❛ _______! Is that you? ❜
❛ We really like your town! ❜
❛ I’ll do it myself, with THE POWER OF LOVE! ❜
❛ A little lump of love will take the buck out of the bronco! ❜
❛ Look at you and your little hat! ❜
❛ You are so cute, I can’t stand it! ❜
❛ If you start down in the right path, you end up in the right place. ❜
❛ True friendship comes from the heart, not an electric squid to the face. ❜
❛ Never hurts to help! ❜
❛ I’ve been doing this all wrong. ❜
❛ He/she may not be my buddy, but I’m still his/hers. ❜
❛ I like the pretty bracelets. ❜
❛ I’ll help you. ❜
❛ You remember me, right? ❜
❛ Don’t you see? ❜
❛ The planets of this galaxy align over this very spot! ❜
❛ A celestial star being of infinite power shall come forth… ❜
❛ I travel the galaxy. ❜
❛ Sometimes, I make this face, or this one, or this. ❜
❛ Or sometimes I get really crazy. ❜
❛ I have wondered where my best pal ______ is, huh? ❜
❛ A star being of infinite power shall come forth and grant whoever a single wish. ❜
❛ Oh! Where was I? ❜
❛ Soon, at the precise moment of the cosmic conjunction… ❜
❛ And today, the one most worthy to stand here is none other than I. ❜
❛ Yeah, right, bro. ❜
❛ You’re too late. ❜
❛ Fire Breath! ❜
❛ She/he wanted to come, but she/he had to go to the bathroom!  ❜
❛ She/he doesn’t want everybody knowin’ about it. ❜
❛ Well, I don’t know ‘where’ she’s/he’s goin’ to the bathroom. ❜
❛ It’s okay though. ❜
❛ Rude. ❜
❛ I promised her/him I’d take pictures! ❜
❛ Peepers, Flaming Skulls, NOW! ❜
❛ Already loaded, Sir. ❜
❛ The trajectory is locked. ❜
❛ It’s me, ______! ❜
❛ I’m takin’ you all the way down. ❜
❛ Look! ❜

The City is Mine: Ch.3 (M)

Genre: gang au, angst, smut (IN THIS CHAPTER!!!)

Character Profiles: AOMG | The Outsiders | The 1988′s  (Please read these and the Prologue before you begin!)

Chapters: Prologue1234 /?

“The City is Mine” Ravi Open


“Wait. Did you just say…Don Mills is here?” asked Zico, his voice suddenly turning dark as he discarded his nice guy facade.

“Yeah bro he’s right over there” replied Microdot as he nodded his head towards Don’s direction.

Without another word Zico turned and headed in the direction Microdot had pointed towards, instantly forgetting his mission to collect Simon D’s sister in favor of finding Don Mills.

“Thanks for the drugs bro!” Microdot called after him excitedly before heading towards the mens room to test the drugs out.

Without thinking, Zico’s fingers found their way into his inner coat pocket and curled around the gun he had hidden inside. His emotions, which he normally kept under lock and key, were going haywire. The only thing he could think about was getting revenge on the man who was responsible for killing the only woman he had ever loved.

He was going to find Don Mills, and he was going to kill him.

Keep reading

“Kei! Look!”

“Nii-chan! Look, look!”

more one draw stuff this time the theme was “stars”

i wonder what they wished for on that shooting star

@walkingdisaster i know!!!!! theyre weird lizard people!!!!!!!! and not to mention garek is like a 40 year old weird lizard person so if ur gonna have a lizard fetish hes not exactly ur best bet

This Game (sezakis' cover)
Konomi Suzuki
This Game (sezakis' cover)

sheet music credit [ x ]
requested by thejondrette & i-am-kakuja and dedicated to mazusu

about the 'bromance' argument

if somebody tells you that sherlock and john’s relationship is a ‘bromance’ and that’s all there is, just show them this gif

i doubt they will be able to find an effective counter-argument.

Hey bros. This gonna be another post without a TF fic. Work’s been hella crazy, and it’s almost impossible for me to focus on writing anything with my muscles so sore all the time. Yeah, you heard that right, bros. I took the plunge, found a coach, and dedicated my body and my time to his leadership as I transform myself into an athlete. It’s gonna take a while, but I get so hyped over every small step that I’m making towards my goal. I honestly don’t understand it, but it’s like a switch has been flipped all of a sudden, and I don’t mind waking up before daybreak for my workouts, or giving up alcohol and junk, or not hanging out with my friends to do anything not sports-related, unless its getting food to fuel the changes in my body. It’s kinda scary how obsessed I’ve become, to be honest. Soon, I’ll have a 10 month plan that includes multiple coaches/trainers and teams/classes/clubs to cross-train while I also practice and find bros to compete with in the sport I’ve chosen, and will try out in…

I’m in so fuckin deep, bros. I just visited a UA HOUSE and picked up some gear, and I realized that if I could, I totally would wear Under Armour EVERYTHING erry day. Eventually everyone who looks at me will judge me as just another sports-obsessed jock, but what’s wrong with that?

PS: Hit me up if you’re a a bro who’s making REAL STEPS towards BROing out.

Bros

“Bro.”

Bro.”

“Bro.”

Bro.

There were two of them, in case it’s confusing.  Two bros, at the gym, at the same time, working back and biceps.  One of them was on the machine, the other one stood next to the machine, watching his bro pump the levers and the iron weight.  He watched his face contort as the reps went on, counting down silently, 5 … 4… 3 … 2 … 1, CLANG.  The bro grinned, wiped the sweat off his face with the hem of his tank, and thumbsed-up his bro, and the other bro would sit down, prepping himself for his turn at the iron.  Neither of them noticed the irritated glances of other gym-goers as the iron clanged back down to its resting place.

They had been together for so long now that they’d become inseparable, a unit.  When anyone else referenced them, their names were a single unit.  Bro & bro.  Of course, they had actual names, but it’s hard to remember which bro was which bro.  They’d probably forgotten each other’s names anyway.  They didn’t need names.  It was easier to just

“Bro.”

Bro.”

You got this, bro.”

“Fuck yeah, bro.”

At some point, it had just become natural.  At first, it was sort of a joke, a little ironic.  You know, a private joke.  Neither of them, if pressed, could even tell you when it started.  Maybe there was a text message between them where one of them said “bro” and maybe sent one of those flex emojis, and from then on, the gates could not swing shut again.  It escalated from “bro” this and “bro” that to elaborate high-fives in the middle of the gym, walking down the sidewalk.  Methods of greeting evolved - or devolved, from “hey” to “sup” to

“What’s up, bro!”  The hand, descending swiftly, with purpose and vigor, slapping the other bro right on the ass.  “Whoa, check out your fuckin glutes, bro!  Fuckin tiiiiiiight!”  It didn’t matter where they were, who they were with.  They were seen all around town, in the grocery store, at the beach, everywhere.  Of course, at the beach, they were seen shirtless, in matching swimming trunks, though they hadn’t known

“Bro!  Yo, you got the same trunks as me!”

“Dude, bro, haha, that’s fuckin hilarious!”

High-five, in which one bro grabbed the other bro’s hand and grappled him down.  They fell in the sand, wrestling, grabbing at each other’s throat, biceps, thighs.  They were completely unaware of when their hands fumbled at the waistband of the American-flag spangled trunks, almost unconsciously yanking it downwards to trip up their bro.  Nothing is off-limits, not even grabbing at his bro’s cock or his balls.  Anything to win.  Eventually, one bro pins the other bro, and through spitting grains of sand and wriggling half-heartedly one last time, the cries of “UNCLE!  FUCKIN UNCLE, BRO!”

They didn’t live together, not yet, but they had plans.  A total bro-pad.  Big-screen fuckin TV on ESPN fuckin 24/7.  Big fuckin fridge, to hold all the food prep they gotta do each week.  Tons of fuckin chicken.  Red meat.  A big cabinet to hold all their supps, especially the bulk-sized vat of protein powder.  Big-ass mirror in the bathroom.  In the hallway.  In each of their bedrooms.  In the living room.  There was just one problem.  One bro had a roommate, and it was the roommate’s apartment - the bro had moved in with the guy, and let’s just say the guy wasn’t exactly a bro.

“Bro,” one bro said to the other.  They sat out on a patio, tank tops & gym shorts showing their browned skin, their tribal tattoos, nearly squirming on them under the sun & the summer heat.  “We should totally make our own bro-pad.  I’d fuckin love to live with you, bro.”

“Bro,” the other bro scowled.  “What about Franklin?  Fuckin buzzkill.”

“Franklin,” he scowled too.  “Fuckin buzzkill.”

They slurped at their protein shakes, maybe a little too fast, still pumped from the morning’s workout.  Brain freeze set in and one bro shook his head, pressing a meaty palm to his eye-socket.  “Fuck, bro.  I dunno.  We could get him to move out, but I don’t think he would.  Fuuuuck, this brain freeze, bro!”

The other bro laughed, well, guffawed, really, a deep, hearty chuckle, and leaned forward to slap his bro on the shoulder.  “Hahaha, fuckin slow it down bro.  I got an idea what we can do about Franklin.  See, I know this guy…”

This guy happened to be a guy that the bro knew from a long time ago, back when he thought he should be going to college.  That shit didn’t take.  He didn’t know how he could have expected to know what he wanted to do for the rest of his life when he didn’t even know who he was at that time.  In his opinion, people waste their time going to college because you don’t know who you are yet.  If he had known he was gonna be a bodybuilder, he wouldn’t have wasted all that time on fuckin college.  But he did meet some people there, and one of them was this guy, and this guy was one of the smarter bros he’d met in college, he was all into organic chemistry and neuroplasticity, and how shit works in the brain.  It was pretty cool, he had to admit, or at least it was back then.  The guy was always reading, head in a book, frowning, or sitting up late at night, face and glasses limned with the blue light from the computer screen.  He had been all into the idea that a personality was mutable, fluid, that it was as chemically-based as anything else in the body, or electric, or some shit.  With the right reagents, the personality could be altered as easily with only a suggestion from another.  He hadn’t told many people about it, the bro knew, because there was one night where he got the guy drunk on cheap beers and shots of shitty vodka and the guy had confessed that he knew how to do it, that he was a genius, but he could never use what he’d discovered, it was too dangerous, etc, etc.  He’d dropped out of college later that year, preferring to work in the service industry, focusing on the gym, focusing on gains, but he’d kept in touch with the guy, his roommate, you know - an email here and there, a message on Facebook, somethin like that.  It was kinda cool to show progress pics to a guy who doesn’t see you all that often, and it’s fuckin cool as shit to see him say things like “WHOA!  HOLY SHIT, man, you got ripped!”  Just made him wanna flex and take more pics for his Insta, really.  He knew that the guy was gay, but that never bothered him, and the guy never bothered him for nothin anyway.

“… so, if Franklin isn’t cool, this is gonna make him cool?”  The other bro was lookin at his bro with a blank look of confusion.  He actually lifted the brim of his baseball hat to scratch at his forehead. 

“Yeah,” the bro said, confidently.  “Just put this in his, whatever he drinks.  Coffee, or water, or whatever.  Once he drinks it, it’ll help.”

“Okay, bro.”  He was ready to trust his bro, even if he wasn’t exactly sure what he was doin - he knew what he had to do, but he wasn’t sure what was gonna happen once he did.  And it was easy enough.  The bro just waited til Franklin got up in the morning, put the coffee on drip, and wandered off into the bathroom.  The bro could hear some kinda classical music drifting out of the hallway where Franklin’s room was, something with strings.  He scoffed, chuckling at the uncoolness of it all, and uncorked the small ampoule of liquid into the coffee-pot.  It was colorless and odorless.  For a minute, the bro wondered if he had even done anything, if anything had even come out of the container, but he shrugged and scratched his balls and wandered off.  It was leg day.

After leg day, the bro came back to his apartment and collapsed on the couch, flat on his stomach, staring sideways at the TV.  There was a football game on, though he was so zoned from his workout that he didn’t even know which teams were playing.  His phone was going off wildly - it was his bro.  He scanned the messages blurrily.

“sup bro nethin happenin over there yet??”

“dunno bro”

There was a crash in the kitchen, and the bro lifted his head to glance.  “You all right?”  He muzzed in the direction of the kitchen.

“Uhh, sorta.”  Franklin’s voice drifted out.  It sounded muddy, as if he were congested.  “Dropped some plates.  Uhhh … yeah.”

“You all right bro?  Sick, or something?”

“Naw, uh, I feel, uh … fine.  Bro.”  Franklin came out of the kitchen, and Franklin looked … different, to the bro.  He sat up, instantly alert. 

“You been workin out bro?”  He criticized his roommate’s normally slim build.  “Looks like you got some mass.”

“Uh, naw, bro, but I … kinda been thinkin about joining a gym lately.  Sound mind, sound body, right?”

“Huh?”

“Like, y’know, gotta have … uhh …”  He glazed over for a second, eyes drifting to the TV.  “Who’s, uh … who’s playin?”

“Dunno, bro.”  The bro squinted at the TV.  “Fuckin Packers.”

“Cool.”  Franklin slowly sat down in a chair and looked at the game.  For a moment, he appeared unfocused, brow furrowed, but as the bro watched him, his face softened, and his eyes became sharper, more alert, as if they had somehow tunnelled into the television, and as if he were intently focused on the task. 

Hours later, Franklin and the bro were yelling, pointing, accusing, even jumping to the edge of their seats.  It was a great game -

“Well, it woulda been a great game if the refs hadn’t been so fuckin shit, fuck, bro.”

“Fuck yeah.  I, uhh … I could see that.  Yeah.  Fuck the refs.”

The game was over, and the bro felt the familiar wave of completion turning to idleness washing over him.  He got up from the couch and headed toward the kitchen for a beer.  “Hey, you want a beer, bro?”  He knew Franklin didn’t drink, and especially not a Bud Light, but fuck it.

“Uhh … yeah.  Sure.  A beer.”

“You got it, bro!”

They sat, blue cans cracked, in a meditative silence.  The crisp, refreshing liquid washed down their mouths, their throats, into their stomachs.  “So, what gym you gonna join, bro?”

“Uhhh … honestly, I dunno, uh, bro.  What gym do you go to?”

The bro grinned, and shuffled over on the couch to Franklin’s side, where he wrapped the kid in a headlock and lightly noogied his head.  “Bro … you’re gonna love it.”

There were three of them, in case it gets confusing.  Three bros, at the gym, at the same time, working back and biceps.  One of them was on the machine, the other two stood in a semi-circle, watching their bro pump the levers and the iron weight.  They watched his face contort as the reps went on, counting down silently, mouths moving together in tandem, 5 … 4… 3 … 2 … 1, CLANG.  The bro grinned, wiped the sweat off his face with the hem of his tank, and thumbsed-up his bros, and one of the other bros would sit down, prepping himself for his turn at the iron.  None of them noticed the irritated glances of other gym-goers as the iron clanged back down to its resting place. 

They had been together for so long now that they’d become inseparable, a unit, even all of them lived together in a sort of frat-house situation. When anyone else referenced them, their names were a single unit.  Bro, bro & bro. Of course, they had actual names, but it’s hard to remember which bro was which bro. They’d probably forgotten each other’s names anyway.  They didn’t need names.  It was easier to just

“Bro.”

Bro.”

“Bro!”

And the clang of the iron, resounding through the gym, as muscles grew and brains diminished, as the sun swiftly darkened their skins from brown to browner, as muscles grew and brains diminished.

One thing was for sure, to the one guy who was watching the progress anyway, the bros were multiplying.  And was that really such a bad thing?  What better laboratory than the world outside of the laboratory for this particular study?  Fuck dangerous, he thought to himself, watching the triad of bros in their gym shorts and tanktops and backwards hats lounging around on their porch, I can make the world hotter.  He already had, with the first bro, his roommate.  And now that bro was making more bros.  He could only imagine what would happen next.  One thing was for sure: he would have to make more of the personality reagent.  Maybe he could … accidentally drop some in the water supply of a small town.

This thought, cradled in his brain, nursed idly at his other thoughts as he listened to the dumbass banter from the bros across the street, listened to the echoing guffaws paired with the crack-hiss of Bud Light cans being opened, and to the inevitable tussle or wrestling match that would ensue.

rafzombie  asked:

look man, its time, its time for a steiner highlight. and honestly im shocked you havent already done it

Yeah you’re right bro. That’s a lot of greatness to sort through though. I dunno if I’d want to do an overall career highlight or just focus on a specific era.