abstractedthinking  asked:

Alright, so what's the most done Patton has ever looked?

now Patton is a bit more emotional with his done(s) but yeah it’s still fab

“now you know i’m right come on” done^

“awwwwww i wanna play please” done^

“i can’t see why did i do this” done^


“WHAT?!” done^

“okay i’ve talked to much my bad” done^

“why am i not allowed to have fun” done^

…. and a bonus?

“emotional i’m seconds from giving up” done^

poor patton bby i love you ;___;

look, i’ll go back to regular posting soon, but just–

there she is; bitch among bitches, bitchy mcbitcherson, bi–


anonymous asked:

Hey dear, so the news have shaken us all up and its disgusting and im just so mad about what he has done. it kind of tainted rk for me but at the same time the characters are so dear to me and i dont want to let go of it, of kenshin kaoru and all the others, they are separate from the author to me.what do you feel and think about it? Im just really sad and mad at the same time

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pcindre  asked:

homegirl deactivated every blog you mentioned. the lord's work has been done this day.

she does it every single time she gets called out.  which is sad that she’s been called out for various things such as racism,  homophobia and ableism. she’s previously been kicked out of a group chat. that group chat has a whole bunch of screencaps of ableism as well,  i’m just not posting those ones because the owner of the screencaps would prefer just to remain anonymous and not be involved in anything.  so right now she’s gone, but she may pop up again.  anyway,  she’s actually gaslighted before too and i’ve never really been able to make a solid call out post because i wasn’t aware until it was too late i was being manipulated,  so if y’all don’t want to sit around for me celebrating the fact that this gross person is finally being called out on everyone, y’all might want to leave now. 

The Morning After Sentence Starters
  • "Get out, get out, get out, get out!"
  • "Do you remember anything from last night?"
  • "Why are you in my bed?"
  • "I'd offer you breakfast, but I think I'm too sore to move."
  • "So.. Was it good?"
  • "Who topped?"
  • "I thought you'd be gone by the time I woke up..."
  • "I should go."
  • "This didn't mean anything."
  • "We shouldn't have done this..."
  • "Of course I'm freaking out! You're my friend!"
  • "I'm guessing this was a one time thing?"
  • "Yeah, yeah, I know how this goes. I'll grab my clothes and get out of here."
  • "Good morning, hope you don't mind me borrowing your shirt.."
  • "I made you coffee, did you want some Aspirin?"
  • "This stays between us."
  • "Congratulations. You actually convinced me to sleep with you."
  • "Are you sneaking out on me?"
  • "So, how much for last night?"
  • "Holy shit! she's on her way over here right now, she/he CANNOT see you!"
  • "Don't answer it!"
  • "Do you have any idea how wrong this was?"
  • "We're cheaters. We're horrible people. Oh god my mother would be so ashamed of me right now."
  • "..Do you wanna do this again sometime, maybe?"
  • Me, on a date: Yeah I'm pansexual so I'm attracted to all genders.
  • Date: Haha but there's only two genders so you mean you're bisexual.
  • Me, shoving breadsticks into my purse: Sorry but I need to go home like right now, immediately.

“I know how to play a few on a guitar,” Keith offered. “I don’t own one, though.”

Shiro could see it. Keith, sitting in a corner or a bench somewhere, the roughened pads of his fingers on the taut strings. Maybe he didn’t sing, but did he hum?

“…Something on my hands?”

“Hm? I was just thinking you can see the callouses–” he reached for Keith’s hand, cupping it in his palm so he could see them better. “Your fingers are hard, right at the places where they’d meet the strings.”

The motion had been so easy that it took the soft hush for him to realize what he’d done. Keith’s hand was warm in his own, fitting so easily like it was only natural to be there.

I recently read this lovely pre-Kerberos fic by @pepperpaprika and felt compelled to draw this scene ♥


HOLY MOLY 4000 FOLLOWERS!?!?! I’m amazed! I’m astounded!! I’m shocked!!! I’m crying, I’m so happy right now! Thank you so much for all the continuous support! I’m going to be taking a little break from tumblr for awhile for spring break to finish a lot of project I have rn, but as soon as I’m done I’ll come back and post all the goodies I’ve been working on! Thank you so much again babes! Please enjoy some Big brother Percy

anonymous asked:

please stop spamming that post with the dog, i've seen itt at least 10 times today

(( OOC: Wait…. the post with the dog? *ponders* Are you talking about this one? 

Or…. maybe this one? 

Would you rather see my cat?

Or my other cat? (RIP baby) 


We have fish too, you wanna see them!? I could show you each one… there’s about twenty in our tank!?

………. have a nice day. )) 

So there’s this club, right? Everyone knows it’s the place to see, the place to be seen, anyone who’s anyone in this wretched town wants to spend their nights dancing and drinking and taking in the sights at FAKE’S. No matter what time, what day, there’s always an endless line down the road, always a hoard of people turned away at the door, the club more than popular enough to be selective about their clientele. Not that this means upstanding, oh no. FAKE’S is a guaranteed good time for sure but part and parcel of its appeal is the ever present undercurrent of something dangerous, the hint of shady business in the background, the aggressively attractive edge of something quietly sinister in every employee, the promise that no matter what happens the night is bound to be exciting.

There’s a stunning woman at the door, red hair or blonde hair or sometimes pink but always smiling, open and amicable and not at all what one would expect in a bouncer. At least she is right up until someone acts up, thinks to try their luck, disregard the authority of the gatekeeper just because she’s sweet. A mistake no one makes more than once; Lindsay’s ability to near instantly level an arrogant gym-rat jock rivals any stereotypical thug of a bouncer, with the bonus humiliation of her unfazed laughter ringing in their ears as they slink away. Some nights she’s joined by another young woman, as meticulously dressed and presented as the girls hoping to enter but with all the confident command of a drill sergeant, Mica sashays up and down the line picking out favourites and shooing off undesirables before they even make it to the door.

For those who pass muster the interior of FAKE’S is no less intimidating; packed dance-floor rolling with the music below an elevated DJ platform, semi-private booths lining the walls, long curving bar rolling out everything from standard spirits and beers to impressively flaming cocktails, and a large cordoned off VIP lounge tucked around the back. Clean, with a great vibe and decent layout, but what really makes the venue and draws in the crowds are the people who run the club. There are plenty of background workers of course, both literally behind the scenes and those who are simply showing up and doing their jobs, casual employees without any deeper connection than a steady paycheque, but it’s the characters who intrigue the clientele. The staff who rule the joint, as tied to FAKE’S as the boss himself, like the oldest of friends who have always been here, tightknit as family with enough authority to conduct themselves and their work just about however they see fit.  

It’s pretty uncommon to see the big boss down on the floor, normally tucked away behind tinted windows in the office overlooking his kingdom, but Ramsey does make the odd appearance; coming and going, entertaining VIP’s and talking with his employees. Slick and suited he cuts an imposing figure, emanating confidence and near constant amusement though the few times he has lost his temper in public have been notable enough that all know to be wary of his sharp eyes and easy grin.

They say the club is only one of Ramsey’s business ventures, though it is surely the most profitable; the man seems to be on friendly terms with near every big name in crime in this city, has even the chief of police eating out of his palm, and it’s a damn near open secret that FAKE’S is not exactly a clean-handed establishment. Not that anyone seems to care, not that it harms their business in any way, Ramsey is sitting pretty on an empire, calling every shot as he sees fit, and he knows it. He’s got no time for fools and all the time in the world for his own people; there is no the customer is always right at FAKE’S – Ramsey’s always on his employee’s side and he’s not shy about making that known.

His business partner, Jack, is his right hand and financial manager and she spends nearly as much time tucked away in the office as he does. When she is on the floor Jack strides to and from where she’s going with purpose, smile polite but wasting no time on pleasantries or idle chitchat with anyone who doesn’t work at FAKE’S. The employees have perhaps too much of her attention, told off for skipping breaks and hustled along when she wants them off the floor, clearly affectionate even as they grumble; it seems none are immune to Jack’s disappointed glares. The one exception to her general disinterest in interacting with the clientele is the occasional instance of overhearing anybody refusing to take no for an answer, in which case Jack charitably provides them with a brief, terrifying summary of harassment and the importance of consent as she shows them the exit.

Beyond the ladies on the door there are two notable members of security within the club with more authority than the handful of nameless guards wandering around at any given time; Jones and Haywood. They should stand out, forgoing the apparent security dress code of all black suits in favour of jeans and leather jackets, but both are alarmingly talented at sinking into shadows and materialising out of thin air at the first sign of trouble. Jones is always around somewhere; directing the other guards, doing rounds, constantly keeping a keen eye on the floor so long as he isn’t dealing with a problem or being dragged off to entertain the blond haired man behind the bar. He’s not the biggest guy around but everyone has witnessed the infamous fury of his temper and even men twice his size hit the floor when they refuse to abide by his law. Haywood is a bit more sporadic; he’s around most nights, a sardonic looming presence that spikes fear into the hearts of even the rowdiest drunkards, but if Ramsey is absent so is he. It stands to reason that he’s playing guard dog somewhere else, personal security on whatever business the bossman is off to conduct, the gossip mill whirling into overdrive anytime he returns with a visible bruise or bloodied knuckles.

There’s a third who slips seamlessly into line with Jones and Haywood when a night grows too unruly, or guards the VIP lounge when Ramsey’s entertaining, but for the most part Lil J plays the role of in-house DJ. Jeremy is generally friendlier with the patrons than the rest of security but when something’s going down he can have a shorter fuse than even Jones, fierce and scrappy in a fight though there’s no denying that he’s clearly far happier to be up in the DJ booth. He’s good at what he does, part of what makes the club so popular, and the days he’s off or playing muscle are often met with hearty complaints from the regulars no matter how competent his replacement is. The one exception to the rule is Axialmatt, who normally works out the back but occasionally takes over the booth; he interacts and plays around with the audience far less than Lil J but has a way with the music that quickly wins over everyone on the dance floor. 

Ramsey’s got a pet, a ward, the apple of his eye if you believe the hype; lord knows the kid must have some favour to get away with playing the way he does. A crowd-pleaser who is all too aware of his own appeal, all painted-on jeans and fickle affections as he dances with the patrons and teases the staff, distracting security and even shimmying his way up the platform to rile up the dancers and badger the DJ. When they can get him to behave himself Gavin tends bar, and on those nights there is a constant sea of people clamouring to hand over their hard-earned money, outrageous flirting netting Gavin not only an absurd profit in tips but also a wealth of rumours and secrets and all kinds of interesting titbits. Not that the full-time bartender (part-time babysitter) doesn’t do well enough on his own, Trevor’s wry humour and friendly chatter easily deflects most from the undercurrent of steely self-assurance he carries. It only really slips out in moments of alarmingly confident threats when someone’s overstepping the boundaries of what he deems acceptable, cold eyes even with his teeth still bared in a parody of a smile, tone polite and laced with promise; Take your hands off him or I’ll take them off you.

It’s a theme with FAKE’S employee’s really; cocky, amused, deeply concerned with one another’s welfare and seemingly far more dangerous than anyone expects. It’s a bad idea to test security at any decent club but FAKE’S muscle seems to miss nothing, formidable and no-nonsense they pull no punches; anyone who acts up or causes a scene is quickly ejected, and anyone caught harassing the staff will be escorted to the alley out back. On the rare occasion Jones or Haywood miss something, busy or distracted or already engaged, the rest of Ramsey’s people are all capable enough to at least hold their own, even the flighty little bartender has something sharp and dangerous tucked behind his teeth, flickering beneath the sneering snarl saved for those who think to take what isn’t theirs, but it’s Jack you really have to watch out for. Jack who will appear in a heartbeat, who will cut through the bullshit and run down even the slipperiest, most self-important asshole like a bloodhound, delivering them to security with a demand that they be dealt with or, worse, having them dragged up to see Ramsey himself. Those troublemakers never again darken their doors; forget cover charges, this is the price you pay for dancing with the devil, this is the risk in playing with the FAKE’S.

For most, though, the night is just a party, just on the right side of thrilling, and by the time dawn approaches FAKE’S is shutting down and the last die-hard revellers are being herded out into the street. For those very few who manage to stick around a little longer, to duck out of sight for an extra moment as the security team does their best to kick out the last desperate stragglers, the tail end of the night is a completely different experience.

The inhabitants of the club are as soft and tired and human as they’ll ever be, cleaning up and resetting for the next night’s work; lights on, music off, and slowly losing their shield of sharp smirking shine. Trevor will be trying to tidy up around Gavin, who’s usually sitting on the bar by now, draped around whichever co-worker has come up to growl and chase off the last of his lingering fans, Jones, Haywood and Lil J all congregating to debrief on the night’s events, Lindsay and Mica slotting in as the rostered guards take over to lock up out front. As the last of the casual staff trickle out a young woman will emerge from out back to flit about taking stock, rolling her eyes at the various voices calling out to her from the head of every area, all ‘Steffie we need more-‘ ‘Steffie we’re almost out of-‘ ‘Hey Steffie did we get the-’ ignoring sweet-talk and puppy-dog eyes but dutifully noting it all down anyway. Finally, Ramsey will descend from on high with Jack at his side, the two seamlessly slipping into the huddle of their most loved and loyal, folded into conversation without a hint of deference from their people. The pair will listen to the latest barrage of complaints and amusing stories, will hand out praise and suggestion and, with tired eyes still bright with something wicked, will share the highlights of the day’s less savoury business conducted behind closed doors.

But before then, of course, even the wiliest of stowaway partiers will have been uncovered, hustled out with perhaps slightly more force than strictly necessary, left out on the street as the sun starts to rise and the green neon glow of FAKE’S sign flickers out, nocturnal beast of a building settling down to sleep until its doors are thrown open once more.

Alec Hates Spiders
  • In the middle of a Down Worlder Meeting
  • Meliorn: ... and as such each ambassador shou-
  • *Magnus' phone rings*
  • Magnus: I'm so sorry. Give me just one moment. Hello?
  • Magnus: Whats wrong?! Are you hurt??
  • Magnus: *urgently whispering* Alexander, I am at a very important meeting right now. Can you just kill it.
  • Alec: What? Absolutely not, it hasn't done anything to me.
  • Magnus: *whispering faster* Fantastic. So ignore it and exit the bathroom.
  • Kara: Kara Danvers can't come to the phone right now. Why? Oh. Because she's dead.
  • Lena: *starts crying* Oh-Oh my god, I can't believe Kara died an-and I wasn't th-*hiccups* there to save her. I'M A HORRIBLE FRIEND!!!
  • Karaa: NO,NO,NO,NO. Lena, Lena,Lena I'm so sorry. I'm here ,it's me Kara Danvers your favorite cub reporter. I'm not actually de- you know what can we forget I even answered the phone like that.I was just being a dick.
  • Lena: *sniffles* Why would you tell me yo-your dead? You know I have no friends. Everyone I love is either dead or in prison.
  • Alex: *in the background* yikes.
  • Kara: I-I'm so sorry Lena, let me take you out for ice cream and a kale smoothie yeah?, *covers speaker* Alex order 3 dozen flowers and a "I'm sorry I told you I was dead card".
  • Alex: Already done.
  • Lena: *hiccups* Okay.

[ insp ]


This is for @ackerchou because their Voltron Actor!AU is the best thing since sliced bread. Please go check it out. I am dying because of it. I hope you like it (PS, I’m sorry in advance if they don’t follow your HCs or personalities TT_TT. I tried).
I’m not sure if you’ve ever thought about it, but being so shy and so, so new to acting in such a high end role, I imagine that Keith along with stress, must have a lot of anxiety (similar to Chris Evans when he first started) especially during his first panels, interviews, screenings etc.

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one direction as things the kids i babysit (they're 4 and 6) have done:
  • niall: cried for 25 minutes after i said he couldn't have a bowl of chocolate sprinkles (i ended up giving him a bowl of chocolate sprinkles anyway)
  • liam: pushed a stuffed dog in a doll stroller while running around in a circle and singing about taking it to the park
  • harry: put a clothespin on my sleeve and said if i take it off before i leave i'll die
  • louis: stared at me for a solid 6 seconds then said "you don't." in a monotone voice after i asked if i looked good in his spider-man mask

speaking of @americangods i’m still working on this portrait series!!

these’ve been so fun and’ve gotten such a warm reception, thanks so much you guys. they’ve been the exact break i needed to take, and have been great help to expand my painting style. i have quite a few planned, by no exact final number that’ll be done!