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fixed it

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Confession: I friend!ship Mort and Teddy so hard

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JEFFREY DEAN MORGAN as NEGAN The Walking Dead S07E11 “Hostiles and Calamities”

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After moments of struggling with this art piece, it's finally here. This time, in a more interesting way!

I was looking over some references for female Soviet snipers in WW2, and I came up with some concept arts. There, I found one of them in a badass pose while holding a sniper rifle so I thought..

Hm.. what if I made Katya like that? ◉‿◉

And boom! Katyusha looking as if she's in some movie poster, AYY — a literal queen, I admit (✯ᴗ✯)

I'm also proud of how I drew the pose for her! Look, guys, I finally gathered hope that I can do something better, omg 😭

I hope you like it! <3

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Mr Ambrose and Mr Frond matching icons!

PLEASE do not repost/use without credit, as it IS MANDATORY

Reblogs > Likes!

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Mort is another innocent bean and I love him. Still working out on him but I’m getting the hang of it.

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Reblog if no matter if you have 50,000 or 50 followers, you appreciate every single one. Reblog if you appreciate the messages you get, whether it's 100 or 1. Reblog if a little smile comes across your face everytime you see a new follower or message. Reblog if even though most of us aren't tumblr famous, we appreciate the little things.

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Sean Devlin - The Saboteur (2009)

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Source: pinterest

Artist: @fool-of-arts

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This exact holiday combo post can only happen once every 33 years.

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heyy yall, I'm not dead, just hella busy with university!

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Ya'aburnee (يقبرني) | Russell Adler Oneshot

A/N: Hi, so I've been working on this little fic for awhile now, and I personally love it but it's also a bit dark. This was based around the lyrics of the song Ya'aburnee by Halsey. The word "Ya'aburnee" or يقبرني is from the Arabic language, which roughly translates to "May you bury me" and is meant to denote that you hope to die before a certain person because the thought of living without them is unbearable. I found the word while listening to that song and thought it was absolutely beautiful. (1.6k words)

Thank you to @gurlbye-1 for helping me out with the meaning of يقبرني. She's awesome and you should totally follow her <3

Warnings: Strong language, mentions of needles, hospitals, cancer, and children with cancer.

I get undertones of sadness When I think about the moments That I never got to spend with you I can't decide If I love you more at morning Or I love you more at night

Adler glanced up towards the clock that hung above his son's hospital bed. December 31st, 11:58. Just minutes away from 1974, and his son was sobbing, screaming and writhing in what must have been ceaseless, unbearable pain for the four year old. Adler's glanced down at his hand, the glow of the bedside lamp illuminating the small, delicate hand of his son, dripping with sweat and grabbing his own hand with a death grip. The contrast between their hands slightly amused, yet saddened Adler.

His hands were small, sickly, and fragile and the only scars to be found were from the many times his poor little hand had been poked and abused with an IV needle, whereas Adler's was heavily scarred, calloused, yet unmistakably healthy. These were the hands of a mindless killing machine who had managed to be domesticated somehow, and his poor little boy's were just so innocent. Those hands could do no wrong. There wasn't a mean bone in his frail body. Yet it was his life being siphoned from existence, not Adler's.

It's not fair.

His hands have killed more people than he can count and hurt countless more, but he doesn't have to suffer the way his son does. Adler's only punishment was the jagged scar etched into his cheeks, and that only brought on the occasional stares from people who didn't know him or his old job.

It should be me.

This has been their routine every night for the past few months, ever since the chemo stopped working and James entered end-stage. He spent most of the days asleep, barely able to open his eyes, but every night from about midnight to three in the morning he'd start screaming, the pain would finally wake him up long enough for three miserable hours. It seemed to have only been getting worse with each passing night.

Adler would hold his hand, occasionally offer words of encouragement, which at this point, felt empty. James wouldn't say much in reply, too engulfed in the tides of pain to utter more than a few words. But, whenever Adler came to the verge of tears, watching his only son slip away from the world in front of his eyes, James would always say the thing that would always make him burst into tears:

"I'm okay, daddy."

He wasn't okay, and it felt like no one in the world cared except for Adler. Not even the boy's own mother seemed to care, in Adler's eyes.

His mother, Farah, almost never saw their son nowadays. Too consumed in grief to help their son through his last days. He hated his wife for that. But Farah, ever the planner, had kept discussing funereal arrangements for their boy, which only led to a screaming match today when he had enough of it. Adler, ever the stubborn mule, still maintained that their son could get through this, unable to process the thought of his son dying. He was delusional, though, the cancer had already spread to his son's brain. Any day could be the last.

"Daddy." James grimaced, looking over to his dad.

"What's up, sport?" Adler smiled sadly, ruffling his boy's hair.

"Book." He whispered. Adler hummed, beckoning James to repeat what he said. "Book." He sniffled through tears.

"Which one?"

"Chawlotte's Web." The four year old gave a pained smile.

"I'm sorry, big guy, but mommy had to return that to the library last night."

"Oh." James quietly resigned. Silence rang through the room for a minute, only interrupted by his occasional sniffles and movement, until Adler glanced over, practically seeing the lightbulb light in his son's head. "Yellew?"

'Yellew' was a juvenile mispronunciation of 'Yeller' which was how code for his favorite movie to watch and favorite book to read, "Old Yeller". Why a four year-old would be obsessed with a story where the dog dies because he contracted rabies and his human companion shoots him dead because of it, Adler couldn't tell you.

Perhaps James, as young and innocent as he was, carried a certain fascination towards death, seeing as how he was on the brink of it. Unlike most four year-olds, perhaps he understood the finality of it, given his situation, maybe he accepted it, even if his own father couldn't.

"Okay." He smiled, standing up from where he sat and scooping James in his arms. Light. Like a fucking feather. Adler grimaced at how little effort it took to carry his son, a few weeks ago he was heavier than this. God, how quickly his boy was deteriorating.

He glanced at the clock, 12:03 AM.

"Happy New Year, pal." Adler whispered, kissing his son's forehead, to which James offered no response.

Sitting down in that beat up, stiff and uncomfortable hospital arm chair with his son cradled on his lap like an infant, Adler reached for the book that sat splayed across a mess of other children's book on the adjacent night stand.

Even before James was diagnosed, ever since he was born, Adler would read to his son before bed. It was a favorite routine of his, one that had led the boy to become as much of a book nerd as one could be at his age. Prior to the diagnosis, this was just a simple way to put James to sleep, one that Adler had liked for the gentle love such a routine had built. Nowadays, it was meant as a temporary escape for James, one that Adler loved and desperately clung on to, if to relive those days of simplicity for even a moment.

"We left at the beginning of chapter fifteen." Adler said. Great. He knew this book front to back -- this was the chapter where the dog died.

He began reading aloud, speaking the narration in his usual deep and rough voice but the dialogue in an accent and pitch that would match that of the character who was speaking, a little touch that James seemed to like. For this book, he'd put on a boyish western drawl for the main character, who was a young Texan boy named Travis.

James settled down quietly, only with the occasional little squirm. It was strange, normally he'd still be writhing around in Adler's arms, but perhaps he had experienced a brief moment of reprieve, or maybe the boy was just so enthralled in his father reading the book that he forgot his own pain.

Either way, Adler decided to think nothing of it and instead enjoyed the feeling of his son laying his head in the crook of his neck. He missed James' cuddles.

Within ten minutes and only two pages into the chapter, the boy had fallen dead asleep.

"Out like a light." Adler quietly chuckled, wrapping his arms around his son's back to pull him closer and quickly falling asleep, getting some much needed rest.

And I think we could live forever In each other's faces 'cause I Always see my youth in you And if we don't live forever Maybe one day we'll trade places Darling, you will bury me Before I bury you

~~~~~~~~~~

For the first time since the diagnosis, Adler slept soundly and without a single nightmare. For once, he finally woke up feeling rested and was only woken by the sound of Sims' voice.

"Mornin' sunshine." He whispered, laughing at the sight of Adler and James all tangled up in each other. How his battle-hardened and gruff best friend turned into such a kind father was beyond him. "Late night again?"

"Yeah." Adler said groggily as he stretched, his son still remained remarkably unbothered on his chest. "What're you here for?"

"Diane made you some breakfast this morning. Some sausage, hash browns and a few biscuits." Sims began unpacking some of the food, and Adler grimaced as he noticed how there were three portions, two adult sized and one child sized. "We thought Farah would be here."

"She doesn't visit anymore." He grumbled.

"Oh. Okay. Well, wake him up and I'll just have a second breakfast."

Adler nodded and lightly prodded James. whispering "Wake up."

No response.

His brows furrowed and he tried again, shaking his son a bit harder this time. Maybe he was sleeping really hard at the moment. "Come on, son."

No response.

"James. Wake up." Adler said, a bit sterner and louder this time.

No response.

"James, please." His voice cracked and he shook him harder now, nearly yelling. Sims quietly strode to the telephone, paging a nurse.

No response.

"James fucking wake up." Now Adler was yelling. He quickly rose from his seat, laying him down and feeling for his pulse, coming to the horrific realization that his son was unnaturally stiff and he could not feel the beating of his heart.

No response.

"James!" He screamed, gripping the corpse of his son for dear life. "Please wake up." Adler sobbed, holding his son in his arms, rocking himself back and forth as Sims grabbed his shoulder.

"He's gone, Russ."

"No he's fucking not." Adler slapped Sims' hand away, screaming. He held onto the corpse of his son, silently pleading to whatever higher power to bring him back. It wasn't fair. "I love him too much."

Take me instead.

"Russell!" Sims shouted back, such a display damn near moving himself to tears. When his friend glanced backwards, he lowered his voice, his tone much more sympathetic and kind. "He's gone."

And the loving leads to bleeding And your beauty is a blessing And I never got to tell you how I loved the way my eyes make yours look blue too

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you guys hate schizo-spec people so much and it fuckin shows

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