#forever a husky

[azzibuckets]

happy birthday to the coldest player out there

[yeyinde]

Outlaw!Price, the enigmatic leader of the notorious and deadly 141 gang, who stumbles upon you one evening near the stables (attempting to steal the mare he had his eyes on, no less) as you try to sneak out of the city (and away from the awful, awful man you're supposed to be married to in the morning), and decides to help you get away.

But if you think it's altruism that's making him lend a helping hand to a stranger, you're wrong. In this life, he knows it's kill or be killed.

And most importantly:

finders keepers.

“How's this,” he begins, and everything inside of you screams to run. “I'll accompany you across the desert. Get you somewhere safe.” 

“Out of the goodness of your heart, I'm sure,” you sneer, edging backwards. “As if I'm dumb enough to believe that.”

“Can't leave a maiden—” your scathing hiss makes his lips twitch beneath the thick moustache; “—all on her own like that. I know these parts like the back of my hand. No harm will come to you. That, you have my word for.”

“And what's that worth?” 

He dips his chin. “Far more than you could imagine, love.” 

You swallow. “I don't know. I don't trust you—”

“Smart,” he nods, drops the cigar on the ground before snuffing the end out with the heel of his boot. “But I ain't very patient. Better make up your mind quickly.”

“Well, in that case—”

“But," he cuts your scoff off with a low hum. "I'll put it this way for you: do you want me to be the one to accompany you across the desert or the one they'll pay, handsomely, tomorrow morning to drag you back home, mm?”

“You scoundrel—! You dirty, rotten—”

“It's business, love.”

“I don't have any money to even pay you to—”

His eyes are searing when they catch on the threads of your lace collar, razing over exposed skin like he's owed the privilege. You've never seen such hunger on a man's face before.

Your skin prickles. Heart sinking low with each rasping sweep of his eyes across your body. It's as if you're meat. Something to be bartered with. Bargained.

The rasp in his voice makes you shiver. “You're a smart girl. I'm sure you can figure something out.”

“I—”

“I'll leave it to you, then, mm?” He starts forward, then, chin ducking low into his collar to stare down at you through the wide brim of his hat. Each thud of his boots echo against the floor in haunting harmony with the metal clink of his spurs. 

More of his bulk is revealed as he steps out from the shadows and into the pale moonlight, and somewhere in your chest, the air becomes trapped. 

He's huge. Bigger, now, where most of him blended in, almost seamlessly, into the shadows. A massive mountain of a man. 

His shoulders seem to stretch the fabric of his vest and waistcoat taut, pulling sharply on the straining threads. The heavy brown of his jacket sweeps down to midthigh, the seam tucked behind the leather holster of his gun tied tight at his waist. The brass buttons of his dress shirt crease against the pull of his broad chest and barrelled stomach. The softness around his midsection speaks almost highly of a luxurious lifestyle—pure hedonism. The sort ladies back home whisper about. Violence, women, and booze—ruffians, the lot of them! But it seems to belie the power in his gait. In the flex of his thick, corded thighs bunching in the tightness of his denim trousers and the leather caps covering them.

He has the walk of a bear. Lumbering, sloven. A touch clumsy. 

And yet—

The softness about him hides the raw strength under the thick pelt. Deadly. The slow, meandering trawl of a man who knows, unequivocally, that he needn’t run or rush anywhere. 

It lodges somewhere inside of you. This knowledge, this fact. He'll outpace you in spades. Catch up no matter where you flee to. 

Your stomach folds, looping over itself. It's nausea, maybe. And something else—

He's so big. Burly. Thickened like the strong trucks of ponderosa pine. A man cut from the wilderness; made in the likeness of the savagery of the wild. The brutality of the desert, of mother nature herself. Kin to the affinity this land seems to have in taking every ounce of a man and leaving him bereft in the face of the looming unknowns in the vast desert.

None of the men you've ever met before look like him. Grizzled. Hardened.

His scarred, tanned skin speaks of a life living outdoors. On a horse, on the run—hard work made with his bare hands. You think the softness, the callous-free palm that gripped your fingers tight in a vice, and can't help but to lean, just a little, into him. Drawn there, like a moth to a flame.

There's something about this man that makes you tremble. Something that curls inside of your guts. Something deeper, darker than fear. Primal. Animalistic. There must be something wrong with you, then. Most know to run from the predators—not move closer.

He comes to a halt less than an arm's length away from you, close enough that you can scent the heavy musk of him so thickly in your nose. Something purely masculine—loam, humus—and yet unfathomably different from the men you've known your whole life. Horse, and sweat. Sun. The headiness of riding nonstop through the sprawling deserts of New Mexico. Leather, and gunpowder. 

The novelty of it all is enough to make you dizzy. And, as if to reinforce it, he leans down, the brim of his hat narrowly missing your forehead, and he rasps, guttural and dark, 

“and I do expect to be paid back in full, love,” his voice is felled timber. Low, and firm. “Or you'll find you don't like the consequences very much. Am I clear?”

The unmistakable iron in it snags on the tendrils of your resolve, pulling messily at the threads. No escape. It winds tighter, tighter— 

Still. 

Your only other option is to stay here, and in the morning, marry a man who made it abundantly clear that the sole use he has for you is to rebrand a dwindling legacy (women ought to be seen, not heard, darlin’, and I think it's high time someone teach you that); or— 

Make off on your own. Through the unmapped, untamed wilderness of New Mexico with nothing for protection except whatever you could reasonably steal away with uninterrupted, which. Isn't much. Not only that—this man, this outlaw, had made it abundantly clear that there would be a bounty on you come sunrise. One he'd be most eager to fulfil. 

Rock, hard place. No escape. 

You steel yourself, grappling with trembling fingers against the dwindling options in front of you, and offer a slow, jerking nod. 

He heaves a breath in response. “Good choice, love.”

It doesn't feel very much like one. It doesn't feel very good at all, even. 

In this little stable just outside of town, you sell your soul to the devil in New Mexico while the cicadas in the background scream through the ink black night. The sounds they make seem to ask, 

what have you done?

[dianastaurasi]

[lsdoiphin]

I've drawn him a few times but I needed to solidify the design for LORD URDAGAN, Vestur's worst lord. So I did.

(The snow nose on his snout alternate gets me every time.)

[muhlgf]

azzi fudd 💗💓💞💕💘💖💘💗💓💞💘💝💖

[softdadleon]

Redraw of Noah Kahan's Stick Season with good ol' Solid Snake

I'm not overly happy with this but I spent so much time on it it kind of has to get posted lol

[miqojak]

Reason resigned Dark seasons' design

Spring's promise of sun is honored When winter's weighed down on us

Visions in white Raw fury in flight

Clear as diamond, yet fragile as ice My heart is racing

- Return to Oblivion (Shiva Eden's Refulgence Theme) Shadowbringer goes Rock

An edit of a clip I made a while back of an Au Ra I've wanted to make for a while, now. Details below the cut!

So, I realized that the first version of this I shared had the mouse cursor pop in for a few frames, and I got annoyed, so I went back to edit that out...and ended up having a hard time fixing it since there's audio, and I can't just remove those frames at the point at which the mouse came on screen! That said, I ended up making a better version of what I was trying to do the first time! (Microsoft Clip Champ is actually really good - especially considering how shit most Microsoft stuff is. I've found I don't even feel tempted by their premium plan, either, with how much good stuff is free.)

[imaginespazzi]

Maybe you want to share this with your followers: Thank You AE x(.)com/BizerkJerk/status/1793641646791315763

Oh I saw this on twitter this morning and it made me so emotional.

Aaliyah Edwards, my love you are so, so, so loved. UConn nation could never thank you enough, our anchor always <3

To the person who made it, if you lurk on here, this was really well done and we appreciate it!

[azzibuckets]

my heart can’t take this anymore

[huskyremix]

The people have spoken

soon

[old-danmei-fan]

Going to stay with my sister for the weekend and our plans only consist of reading Erha together. She's starting book 1 and I'm gonna sob my way through book 3 and possibly part of book 4.

This is gonna be her first danmei so I'm hoping if she likes it I can talk her into reading Scum Villain lol

[raddestrose]

Stop talking at the same time I swear

just sleep next to him, you don’t have a room anymore Mo Ran

As much as you need to know there was only ever one bed

[squirmey-worm]

Thinking about making this my profile pic

[random-husky]

Happy (late) Birthday Jeje & Mikuni!!!

I live!

But seriously, I’m so sorry I’ve been so inactive lately! 😓I’ve been so busy T~T

Anyway, on a happier note, I decided to try digital painting! I’m pretty happy with the result considering I don’t do this style often! ^^

Hope you guys have a wonderful day/night!

[imaginespazzi]

WHAT TEAM? UCONN 💙

[phightingconfessions]

because the last person has a OC not based off of gear, one of mine is based off the husky scarf!! his name is actually just husky, he works as a guard for subspace's lab (he just stands outside the whole day) and is quite fond of biografts!

YAY MORE ACCESSORY PHIGHTERS!