Yes Yes I Love Shakarian Because Those Two Just Understand Each Other Intrinsically. But I Am Foaming

HAJSJWKAKAKSSJQBZ AHAHHHHHHHHHH IM SCREAMING AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA IVE BEEN LAUGHING AT THIS FOR THE PAST SIX MINUTES HELPPPP

It seems to me, based off experience, part of the drawing process is starting to do it then immediately realizing your apple pen is dead and needing to charge it

NEW TOMODACHI LIFE

It’s a head canon, but feel like Yautja would LOVE WWF and RAW. They’d get so into it, sometimes getting drunk with their hunt siblings and placing bets on who would beat their favorite the fastest.

I think Wolf would really like Stone Cold Steven Austin. He enjoys watching the old sketches, especially the one where he basically assaults his rival Booker T in a grocery store. He approves of the creative ways Stone Cold comes up with to throw around his opponent.

Scar would like Roman Reigns. He admires the warrior aesthetic Roman has. He longs to beat him thinking that he’s a real warrior and would be a worthy trophy.

Feral would like The Undertaker. He’s down with the vibes of showing up with his enemies coffin ready to go and appearing like he’s about to fuck shit up. When he hears the entrance gong he’s ready to watch the carnage. He likes how he presents himself.

I don‘t know. I made so many of these because the hyperfixation is strong 🧟‍♀️

u gotta be careful reblogging posts cuz what if you see it drowned in water later

Thaddeus Poo Poo Blast

Simon who didn’t cry when Johnny died. His eyes never filled, never stung with tears. Simon who didn’t close off like they expected he would, Simon who seemingly didn’t change after it happened.

Simon who sat awake so many nights. Cold. Alone. Simon who instinctively went looking for Johnny just to spend hours in the gym beating his knuckles to bloody shreds to punish himself for being so stupid. Simon whos eyes still linger in spots Johnny used to frequent. Simon who wishes Johnny was there to patch up those knuckles and kiss them.

“Aye be more carful yee fuckin’ brute…”

Simon could still hear Johnny’s voice. Simon who still waits to hear Johnny’s jokes over the com on missions. Simon who could have sworn that shadow in the corner of his room looked like Johnny. Simon who cant close his eyes for months without hearing that gunshot.

Simon who never once cried.

It was only years and years later it hits him. Simon’s eyes had stopped looking. Dreams and shadows of Johnny MacTavish had long stopped. It hits him while he’s trying to sleep one night after a particularly rough mission. What color were his eyes? His hair… black… brown… brown right?

He couldn’t remember.

That’s when his eyes stung, hot tears filling to the brim and spilling over. How could he of forgotten? How was that possible? How could he betray Johnny like that? He couldn’t remember his smile anymore, he couldn’t hear his voice anymore, couldn’t feel lingering phantom touches anymore.

He couldn’t feel Johnny anymore.

The memory of someone he held so dearly once was fuzzy, blurry. Hardly there. Swallowed and eaten alive by time. How cruel.