that rose splattering

can't choose uhm yakuza headcanon for redblue :3c

Thu, 23 May 2013 03:01:00 -0400

The urge to copy and paste the synopsis for My Boss My Hero is strong …

On the tenth day of his “exchange” into the Takeda clan, temperatures swell above 37C. Masamune wakes in a pool of sweat and wonders just what pit of hell his mother has discarded him into now.

Oh right.

The pit of enthusiastic cats.

The young boss barely manages to crawl outside the guestroom. Sure, men of the Date clan are molded from steel and dragons and all that badass shit, but what sort of demon has to live in this kind of weather? Masamune stomps to the well in the courtyard, where Sanada Yukimura, stripped down to the waist, has already begun dumping icy water over his head.

To tell the truth, Masamune has never been sure just why he joined Takeda’s young boss in this antiquated ritual of taking baths by bucket as opposed to, I don’t know, a bathroom. It was just that, back then, he had wanted to do something, anything, to break the confines of this ridiculous superficial “exchange.” Twenty four hours after the “exchange,” he had considered just tearing the walls of the Takeda main house down but the memory of having witnessed Koujuurou’s hunched shoulders, set rigid against his mother’s demands yet in line with the rest of the men, echoed against the back of his heart and held his temper down. Alone in the Takeda guest bedroom, Masamune gashed his teeth— and eventually, the blood roaring over his ears subsided and the laughter rippling from the courtyard caught his attention.

There, Yukimura, wet hair plastered down his neck and soaked school uniform, only had to say one thing: “Sasuke says only real men can stand this cold water.”

Masamune ripped off his school jacket and slapped it against the ground. “Bring it, Sanada Yukimura!”

The young tiger grinned.

That morning, however, marks the first time Masamune has ever seen the young tiger’s back. Perhaps it is the overwhelming crush of humidity and heat soaking into his brain, but Masamune’s eyes fix on the thin rivulets of water crashing down on Yukimura’s broad shoulders, arching over skin stretched across sharp blades like folded bronze wings, and streaming together to race down to the strong dip of his lower back. Masamune swallows hard.

When the silence stretches on for too long, Yukimura glances over his shoulder. “Masamune-dono, are you alright?”

“Hey. Why are you doing this?”

“Pardon?”

Masamune winces at the lingo which only his grandfather has ever employed. “Why are you doing this, Sanada Yukimura? Why are you treating me like this?”

The young tiger’s eyebrows furrow. He sits the bucket down and approaches the dragon. “I don’t understand, Masamune-dono. You are our guest here.”

And it hits him, right then and there, that this Sanada Yukimura, this young heir to the powerful Takeda clan, really has no clue about the reality of the hostage situation. Masamune slowly places his hands on those gleaming shoulders (still slippery and cool from the well’s water). Under the hazy summer sky and within the best of Yukimura’s graces, he considers dashing the innocence from those large bovine eyes with a slap of reality. He considers this move, he acts on this move, and so when his chest moves and his throat gargles, all that falls out of his mouth is, “Yo. Ever been in a fight?”

ixilecter: Water is people! If you centrifuge blood, you will...

Thu, 23 May 2013 00:53:05 -0400

ixilecter:

Water is people!

If you centrifuge blood, you will separate the cells and plasma. The plasma, which can range between a light yellow to a bright red (depending on rate of hemolysis), indeed has water in it. However, it also has other things like platelets and hormones.

triumfa: Сhun, my little swimmer-rat

Wed, 22 May 2013 21:00:14 -0400

triumfa:

Сhun, my little swimmer-rat

headcanon/fic requests

Wed, 22 May 2013 20:57:21 -0400

why not
Fandoms: Sengoku Basara, Hannibal, JJBA, Slam Dunk, The Black Company
I will only write about characters who I know about …
CHUN I KNOW THAT I HAVE NOT FINISHED YOURS YET
Please leave a message in my askbox.

☄ : Vetinari, kindergarten AU.

Wed, 22 May 2013 20:50:00 -0400

I have no idea how kindergartens in England work.

Side B

Once upon a time, Havelock Vetinari enters a wondrous kindergarten named Ankh-Morpork, the only kindergarten where the school lunches always smelled of sausage inna bun and the water could be molded by hand. Vetinari, who prefers books over toys, keeps mostly to himself for the first few days. On the tenth day, however, the slender blond boy breaks his silence by approaching the school misfit.

Sam Vimes scowls deeply at the new boy, but the latter seems far from moved.

“Are you brave, Sam Vimes,” Vetinari asks.

Vimes narrows his eyes— perhaps because Vetinari’s face says, “5 year old boy” but his tone suggests,” 50 year old dictator.”

“Do you know Sybil Ramkin, Sam?”

The boy in raggedly clothes shrugs.

“She likes you.”

Well, gross. Sam’s face moves through several deeper layers of scowls and embarrassment, and he shoves Vetinari aside. Who wants that kind of attention, anyway? Everyone knows, Sam grouches to himself as he returns to his desk, that girls have cooties.

That afternoon, however, the teacher divides the class into groups to work at the art tables, and to Sam’s horror, he is suddenly up close and personal with the fiercely shiny visage of one Sybil Ramkin. His hair stands up on end, his hands shake, and he colors so violently on his paper that he manages to break all his crayons within twenty seconds.

“You can use my crayons,” Sybil softly says from across the table.

Sam’s ears catch on fire.

But before their one-sided courtship can continue, some idiot howls from across the room and quite suddenly, a group of boys have bounded over, grabbed Sybil’s crayons, and ripped up her paper. They sing names and do a little war dance around her chair. Sam’s eyes grow wide. His tiny chest puffs out and before he knows what’s happening, he parachutes over the table and shoves his fist into Lord Downey*’s mouth.

Later that afternoon, while waiting outside the principal’s office, Sam Vimes feels some one tap his shoulder and glances up once more at Sybil’s shiny face.

“Sorry,” he mutters under his breath.

“Thanks,” she responds.

Sam sniffs and mumbles something.

“Hmmm?”

And then, in a deathly whisper, Sam admits, “For a girl, you’re not gross.”

Side A

Once upon a time, Havelock Vetinari enters a wondrous kindergarten named Ankh-Morpork, the only kindergarten where the school lunches always smelled of sausage inna bun and the water could be molded from the fountains. On the first day, his aunt insists on meeting with the principal, so he spends several hours sitting in a seat as his aunt grills the poor man down to his bones.

After four hours of interrogation, his aunt turns to the boy and questions, “But do you like the look of this place, Havelock?”

The boy thinks back to the great stone owl perched on top of the iron gate out front. True, the aroma of Ankh-Morpork is a little unique. True, he has never seen an orangutan in the library before. True, it is a little concerning that their PE teacher is actually made of stone, and that he may or may not have glimpsed a black robed figure skipping around the grounds while chasing a white horse. But despite all of Ankh-Morpork’s eccentricities, Vetinari has felt a strong pull ever since his eyes fell upon the great stone owl. The boy smiles, the rarest of all his quiet habits.

“The truth is,” the principal cuts in while wiping his brow. “I don’t know how much longer this school will last.”

“What do you mean,” Vetinari’s aunt sharply questions.

“Our donor, the Ramkins, aren’t happy. They send their daughter here and she … well, she …”

“What?”

“Well, she’s a little on the heavy side. And she’s quite tall for her age.”

“So?”

By this time, the principal’s face has transformed into a waterfall. “Well, Madame, you know how kids are. They see some one unlike themselves, and they will not be kind. And they are most definitely not kind to Sybil Ramkin. Oh, we’ve tried. We’ve tried reasoning with the kids, their parents— we’ve tried discipline, pleading, bribing, and everything in between. They just won’t leave her alone. Her family’s threatening to pull her out of this school, although she has been a very brave girl. And if they pull her out, we lose most of our funding and we may have to shut the school down.”

Vetinari’s aunt frowns but before she can respond, the bell rings. The principal stands and apologizes for the outburst.

“Most of our students are very good,” he assures and sticks his hand out to the young Havelock Vetinari. He peers at the boy. Several layers of Vetinari peer back. The principal hesitates, and withdraws his hand from the alligator pit.

The next day, when Havelock enters his kindergarten classroom, he immediately fixes his attention on Sybil Ramkin. It takes him all of one hour to pinpoint exactly who the bullies are, and a few more hours** to figure out just who should do all the dirty work.

And so, eleven days later, Sybil, for the first time in a long time, enters class with a bright smile. She stops by Sam’s desk and drops off a massive new box of crayons. Vetinari watches from the corner of the room, and basks in the warm glow of satisfaction.

*His actual name.
**Havelock would have initiated his plan a lot sooner if he had not been distracted by books about animals and missing hats.

Even the boar ran away, this is unbelievable…

Wed, 22 May 2013 16:30:20 -0400

Even the boar ran away, this is unbelievable…

Photo

Wed, 22 May 2013 16:28:51 -0400

Popcorn の松本潤

Wed, 22 May 2013 16:26:34 -0400

Popcorn の松本潤

blvleass: Merlin Secrets and Magic: Bradley James finds...

Wed, 22 May 2013 02:05:20 -0400

blvleass:

Merlin Secrets and Magic: Bradley James finds himself alone in a train station

Merlin things (9/∞)

Wed, 22 May 2013 02:04:27 -0400

Merlin things (9/∞)

neimadphotographies: Touareg Style

Wed, 22 May 2013 01:20:52 -0400

neimadphotographies:

Touareg Style

Photo

Tue, 21 May 2013 21:00:29 -0400

thecuteoftheday: turtle...

Tue, 21 May 2013 18:07:14 -0400

thecuteoftheday:

turtle cosies

(via http://imgur.com/gallery/t5SmU)

spidercamp: (via Canada Goose (Branta canadensis) | Flickr -...

Tue, 21 May 2013 12:07:10 -0400

spidercamp:

(via Canada Goose (Branta canadensis) | Flickr - Photo Sharing!)

level 6 (tentative) pole song line up

Tue, 21 May 2013 00:40:59 -0400

Memory assignment: Off to the Races
Message from a lover: Gasoline
Dedication: Queen

guineapiggies: Submitted by seagull-paranoia

Tue, 21 May 2013 00:25:27 -0400

guineapiggies:

Submitted by seagull-paranoia

123zero: (via Collective curiosity, photo by Irawan Subinger -...

Mon, 20 May 2013 21:00:10 -0400

123zero:

(via Collective curiosity, photo by Irawan Subinger - Pixdaus)

☄ Setouchi scientists (Hanbei is their PI)

Mon, 20 May 2013 17:58:00 -0400

why is this so long jfc

With this amount of emotional blackmail, Mouri Motonari is pretty sure his adviser would have made for a better social scientist than marine biochemist. Pebbles litter the tiny road to the docks, and Mouri twists and turns against the passenger seat each time the trucks bumps up and down. It is just that, he sleepily berates himself, he should have suspected something before (but then, how could a first year graduate student have known to spot the stains of deep corporate funding disguised as shiny new lab equipment, unlimited funding, and even a new collection boat?). Mouri leans his forehead against the glass window, cooled from the early morning chill. Takenaka Hanbei has struck a deal with the devil (or at least, Toyotomi Pharmaceuticals), and Mouri is in too far deep to leave without marks.

Somewhere behind the wheel, his undergraduate hums. Mouri’s eyebrows immediately scrunch. In attempt to ameliorate their relationship (or perhaps to trap him in more debt? Mouri will never know), Takenaka assigned him an undergraduate assistant to help around the boat and data collection. Unfortunately, Chousokabe Motochika has been more of a source than sink for frustration.

True, the student who may have been part titan in a previous life has proven to be quite useful around all the machinery and ropes, and has demonstrated an uncanny ability to predict storms. But on the other hand, Mouri grumbles under his breath, he has also been a rude, loud, crass, and basically just an impossibly handsome piece of shit.

Chousokabe pulls the truck into the docks’ parking lot and then slams on the brakes so Mouri’s face crashes into the dashboard. He then brightly says, “I got you coffee.”

“Fuck off!”

“Fine, I’ll drink it.”

“No,” Mouri growls and grabs the coffee. He rubs his forehead and stomps off the truck. Just wait until they get out onto the water, just wait until … until Chousokabe finishes navigating them to the correct location, damn that boy’s impeccable naval skills. Mouri violently drinks his coffee.

“Before we head out, do you want me to untangle the nets,” Chousokabe suggests.

“No!” Mouri shouts by reflex, then reflects, and admits, “Yeah, okay.”

The student turns to hide his smile. Chousokable crouches down by the nets, and asks, “What are you looking for today?”

A pause. Mouri stares out into the glimmering sea. Something jumps ever so briefly against the pink orange backdrop of horizon, and Mouri considers spiking his adviser’s drink with horse tranquilizer.

“Motonari?”

“Don’t call me that,” the graduate student growls.

“What are you looking for today?”

“Do you like the sea?”

Motochika blinks. “What?”

“You heard me the first time,” the grad snaps.

“It’s the only place for me.”

Mouri frowns. He considers, briefly, as he watches his undergraduate load the boat (that broad tanned back’s stretching over crates and crates of rope under the warming sky), about warning Chousokabe off, about revealing the truth of Hanbei’s research and the underlying cruelty. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, some one once has said, but at this point, they have even dropped good intentions in exchange for profit, and Mouri wonders if he should share such an ugly reality with this boy who just wants to love the sea, this boy who is annoying and offensive beyond belief and yet, every morning, is demanded for because Mouri cannot stand the thought of driving alone to the docks and listening to the lapping of waves.

Perhaps.

He crushes the empty Styrofoam cup between his hands and tosses it over his shoulder. He walks on the boat, only to find that his undergraduate has gone back on the docks to pick up his litter.

Perhaps…. no. Mouri scoffs under his breath. If he’s going to hell, he’s going to drag Chousokabe Motochika all the way down.

Photo

Mon, 20 May 2013 02:16:55 -0400

quatres: In which Jun sounds like Ju-on and missed the memo...

Mon, 20 May 2013 02:14:39 -0400

quatres:

In which Jun sounds like Ju-on and missed the memo that you’re not supposed to look classy when imitating a trumpet.

that rose splattering

can't choose uhm yakuza headcanon for redblue :3c

ixilecter: Water is people! If you centrifuge blood, you will...

triumfa: Сhun, my little swimmer-rat

headcanon/fic requests

☄ : Vetinari, kindergarten AU.

Even the boar ran away, this is unbelievable…

Photo

Popcorn の 松本潤

blvleass: Merlin Secrets and Magic: Bradley James finds...

Merlin things (9/∞)

neimadphotographies: Touareg Style

Photo

thecuteoftheday: turtle...

spidercamp: (via Canada Goose (Branta canadensis) | Flickr -...

level 6 (tentative) pole song line up

guineapiggies: Submitted by seagull-paranoia

123zero: (via Collective curiosity, photo by Irawan Subinger -...

☄ Setouchi scientists (Hanbei is their PI)

Photo

quatres: In which Jun sounds like Ju-on and missed the memo...

Popcorn の松本潤