Hey guys! Zis is ze vonderful Russian Ensign!!

Our blessed tumblr

A holy site

Nah nah nah, you ain’t hiding this in the tags

Not one of the 7 deadly sins, but a secret 8th sin

sorry what

Our blessed tumblr

A holy site

Nah nah nah, you ain’t hiding this in the tags

Not one of the 7 deadly sins, but a secret 8th sin

sorry what

been repeating this in my head all day

honest to god fill my uterus with these, how many will fit? how many until its noticeable? lets make a game out of it! get them big ass balls into me

hi

You should all be beaten like piñatas

dont do that bro the fucking boba r gonna shoot out

“Mom, there’s someone under the bed.” You bend down and see your son there instead and he whispers “Mom that’s not me up there!” You take a step back when someone tugs your shirt. You turn, your son is in the closet asking “who are they?” You suddenly hear him calling from downstairs “Mommy?”

You sigh, raising your voice so that all of your sons can hear you. “All right, everyone into the kitchen. Now.” Hearing a shuffle in the attic, you add, “Yes, Duncan, that includes you.”

You don’t see any movement as you go down the stairs, but you’re used to that. You know they’ll all be there by the time you walk through the kitchen door.

As usual, your children have all fitted themselves into the kitchen. The dimensions of the room are a little wobbly with so many of them present, but you’ve long ago learned to ignore how the laws of physics only occasionally apply to them. A host of little faces look up at you anxiously, and you smile gently.

“It’s okay, none of you are in trouble,” you reassure them. They relax - and how astonishing is it, that they trust you so much? You’re so proud of their progress.

One, however, still looks nervous. You beckon him forward, and he comes reluctantly, shoved by his identical older brothers.

“Are you new?” you ask carefully.

He nods, and you drop to one knee. “It’s okay, sweetie,” you tell him firmly. “I love all of my sons, even ones I haven’t met before. Ask your brothers, they’ll tell you.”

“’m here because I heard you were nice,” he says in a tiny voice.

You open your arms, offering a hug but waiting to let him decide whether he wants one. This child must have seen hugs before, because he flings himself into your arms and starts crying. That’s good. Some of your sons are traumatised from what they’ve seen, knowing more slaps than kisses.

Eventually, the sobs dry up, your other kids patiently waiting for your attention again. “Why do we look like this?” he asks, curious.

“Because this is what the first of you looked like - Wilson, where are you?”

A hand raises from the crowd and waves energetically.

“Wilson took on my son’s form to play Child or Double. Calling from downstairs when my son was in bed, getting tucked in when the child I bore was playing out in the garden. Once I figured it out, I hugged him and told him that as far as I was concerned, I now had twins. It took him some time before he believed me.”

Wilson shrugs unrepentantly.

“When my son died, Wilson stayed. It helped, having one of my sons with me while I grieved. Then another of you began to turn up, and I had twins again. Then more. Until now, when I have more of you than will technically fit in my kitchen.” You give your sons a look of motherly disapproval, but they only giggle. They know you don’t mind.

“It’s not like you need to feed us!” calls out one of your bolder sons. Eric, probably. Your newest, unnamed child looks up hesitantly, then steps out of your arms to join his brothers. Lucas might be a nice name, you think idly. You don’t have a Lucas yet.

“That does help,” you admit. You put steel into your next words. “However, there are Rules in this house, and one of them is no messing around at bedtime. I know that bedtime is a traditional time for the Child or Double game, but four of you is pushing it.”

You’d say more, but there’s a knock at your back door. You turn to answer it, knowing that your sons will have evaporated before your fingers grasp the handle, and brace against the cold night air as you pull the door open.

Two identical little girls stand there. One has a bruise on her cheek, and has clearly been crying recently. The other - the other is a Doubler, just like your sons. After this long, you can tell the difference.

“Please,” the Doubler says, and her voice trembles on the word. “Please. She needs somewhere to stay.”

Part of you is shocked, already looking ahead to the potential legal issues. The rest of you is all mother, and you whisk her into the nice warm kitchen and get her a glass of water.

Your son’s bed will be occupied by someone else tonight. You think he’d have been okay with that.

One of the biggest “I love you”s in Fullmetal Alchemist are all the ways people respect each other’s bodily autonomy. There are two scenes that carry this theme to its fullest potential, and I love them so, so much.

The first one is quite iconic: Riza’s throat was slit and Roy has a chance to save her - by dooming their country and committing human transmutation. And Roy would do it. He would throw it all away just to save her, even though he knows that human transmutation is an unforgivable sin. But she looks at him and signals him to Not Do It. And he doesn’t. He wants to, but he doesn’t do it. Because only minutes earlier, he hurt her again by dooming himself (and potentially the country) with his fury.  And if there is one thing Roy Mustang doesn’t want to do, it’s hurt Riza Hawkeye any more than he already has. Even if that means watching her die. Even if that means letting her go.

He respects her and their goals enough to say no.

He loves her enough to let her die.

The second one is just as heart-wrenching: after Al sacrificed himself, basically dying in the process, Ed tries to think of a way to save him. Both Hohenheim and Ling offer him a Philosopher’s Stone to bring Al back - and Ed says No. Even though he wants nothing more in life than to save his little brother. Even though there is nothing he wants more desperately than the safety of Al. He says no for many reasons - Hohenheim is his father after all, Ling needs the stone to become Emperor - but mostly he says no because he and Al promised to never use a Stone for themselves. And he respects that. He puts Al’s wish above his own desire to see his little brother again. He respects Al’s decision (his own conviction) enough to break the rules of the world to find another way.

Because he loves Al - he loves him enough not to break the fundamentals of their principles. He loves him enough to respect the integrity of their believes.

And the narrative rewards both Roy and Edward for their choice to respect the agency and bodily autonomy of their loved ones - they survive, are saved, are brought back… and neither Ed nor Roy had to force their own desire for them to live on clearly stated last wishes.

So often we see media portray the disregard for bodily autonomy (especially in medical contexts) as a sign of love, the breaking of patient-doctor confidentiality as a sign of care, the violation of a living will as a sign of family - I like to think that Fullmetal Alchemist shows us that there’s strength in respecting it instead.

Haruhi joining the Host Club

Anyways In trying to make Betty boops Love interest look like her they accidently made the butch femme couple of the centery .Thank you for coming to my TEDX talk.

If you ever find yourself in a horror scenario, remember to blush really hard when the ghost/demon/monster appears. If you do that fast enough you might be able to shift the genre.

This applies doubly if the antagonist is more abstract. If a house starts growing teeth and flesh you've gotta be prepared to get a little freaky

if you play your cards right you can even unlock the clive barker/david cronenberg route

What if I was a lonely brooding man but my features softened as I stared at you adoringly?

Soulmate world except two people without marks decide they're going to fake being each other's soulmates with fake tattoos and what starts out as wacky shenanigans to reassure their families they can settle down and be happy ends up with them delving too far into the lore to make sure they get the act right and slowly piecing together, to their horror, that the whole soulmate system is a scheme of their people's gods to make the population boom before an upcoming war.

I thought you were going to say that their lacking marks were actually their matching marks all along but that is interesting

“Living my best life <3”

“Lucius is drowning.”

“This ain’t about him.”

objectifying men in armor will literally never get old. like, work it shiny boy. hit ‘em with that old razzle dazzle you fuckin trash can. hottie! (tucks $5 into your cuirass) 

Hello please reblog this if you’re okay with people sending you random asks to get to know you better

we can do it it

They rarely star wars

she killed herself

his breasts grow shaky