face smashing

5

I will have these up in my store by the end of the month/beginning of October and in future conventions!! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ I will be updating more info about new stuff/conventions/store plans on Twitter!! Sorry to be so absent from the media guys, I hope everyone’s having an amazing start of September!!!

gather round tumblr it’s time for a story about why you shouldn’t solicit conversation with a stranger with a put down about their generation

i sat down about 30 minutes ago in the lobby of a very nice hotel, intending to do some writing. i have my laptop and my cellphone. as i settled, i checked some stuff on my phone, then turned to my laptop. because there aren’t many plugs, i’m sitting in a cluster of couches and instead of being by myself there’s an he’s an older gentleman across from me, polo shirt, salt and pepper hair. was very polite when i asked if he minded if i tucked myself in the corner of the couch

but apparently

apparently

he thinks computers are full of satan or something

because no sooner have i opened up goddamn word when he goes, “you kids and your electronics.”

ah, excellent, unsolicited conversation with a perfect stranger that comes with a critique of modern communication. fight me, bro, you got no idea who you’re tangling with. so naturally i push up my metaphorical sleeves (metaphorical because i’m in a goddamn resort and pavement is melting; i’m wearing a very nice goddamn dress and i’d look like a fucking soccer mom named helen if i had blonde hair) and very politely, i smash his face into the floor with “i’m sorry?” in an utterly flabbergasted tone because dude wtf and no one delivers slick put downs when they’re caught off guard

“i’m here reading my newspaper and after this my wife and i are going on a hike” (lol good luck with that dude the pavement is melting and you want to hike in the mountains) “and we’re going to interact with each other.” he gives my computer a v pointed look

naturally, i have the perfect response to this. it is pithy and eloquent and will surely put him in his place: “i… like to write, and it’s easier on a laptop?”

“it seems to me” (HERE WE GO) “that your generation” (OH GOOD) “is losing the ability to interact with other people.” (O OK) “my grandchildren never take their eyes off their cellphones anymore!” 

and here he pauses and looks at me. as if he expects me to agree. 

so i say “you were born in the 50s, right?” he says he was born in 59. “well, it seems to me that your generation is really fond of adultery, embezzlement, and corporate fraud, among other things, and i’m really enjoying paying for your retirement.”

i admit: i had this line canned after a little snarl i had with my mom the other night.

he stares at me. i stare back. 

“you also realize,” i say, quickly typing socrates kids these days quote into google, “that people have been saying kids these days since socrates said, and i quote, children now love luxury. they have bad manners. contempt for authority. they show disrespect for elders and love chatter in place of exercise.” i look up at him. he’s staring at me still.

i’m shaking because man fuck confrontation but also how hilarious is this because i literally had a fight with my mom about this twelve hours ago. i literally have a cranky tweet about it. “so it seems to me that making sweeping generalizations about people based on pretty arbitrary age groupings is kind of ridiculous since i’m pretty sure you’re not cheating on your wife or stealing from your company.”

he goes beat red because now i’m embarrassed him, and i feel really fucking bad because i didn’t mean to embarrass him, but also hey dude fuck you

SO OF COURSE he says “did your parents teach you any manners?”

and there goes the last of my embarrassment because hey fuck you dude the only person who can insult my parents is fucking me. and i say, without even thinking because this is when you have the snappiest rejoinders, “well they did teach me not to open unsolicited conversation with a stranger by insulting them so.”

at this point the dude’s wife shows up and they leave, and the waiter asks me if i want anything to drink and i’m like “yes please give me all your vodka” but instead i say “ice water” because the pavement is melting and if i puke from nerves after that, i don’t want to snort alcohol out my nose

that’s it that’s my story

i n k.

Originally posted by shirtlessthomas

chris evans x reader (smut)

warnings: smut, dirty talk, tattoo kink? NSFW GIF. 

prompt: small discussion of tattoos leads to smutty goodness.

a small yawn left your lips as your head rested on your boyfriends chest, the curtains were drawn closed leaving you in a dimly lit room, the only noise surrounding you was your breathing and the sound of his steady heartbeat by your ear. you and chris had been dating for two months but having time together or even alone was a rarity considering his line of work, not that you minded, you loved spending time with sebastian and anthony as well as visiting his parents. his mothers cooking was to die for and you couldn’t stop yourself from melting whenever you saw how they interacted, it was no secret that he was an absolute mammy’s boy.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Tbh kinda want there to be some langst in the form of Matt suddenly showing up and seeming like a the team wanting him to pilot blue lion

Lance didn’t mean to spy on them, okay, nor did he mean overhearing what they were saying. It’s just, he was going for some leftover goo after a well needed shower, and as he was rounding the corner, Shiro’s voice, laced with amusement, reached him and made him stop in his tracks.

“We’re gonna train you like a true paladin of Voltron,” he was chuckling, followed by a oh so familiar ‘oof’, meaning he had just patted the shit out of someone’s shoulder. The someone replied back, a little wheezy “Sure, because that’s exactly what I need” and- of course it was Matt.

Matt Holt, Shiro’s long time friend and companion, Pidge’s brother, miraculously back safe from the failure of the Kerberos mission. Everyone was overjoyed with having him on the ship, rightfully so, and he was a cool guy, with an acquired knowledge of Galra machinery that even the Alteans lacked. Had a smile for everyone, a biting humor that made even Keith laugh, and was also great with technical stuff. Basically, the perfect paladin.

And Lance was happy to have him back, of course, because he had never seen Pidge look so joyful, and Shiro looked less like he was contemplating leaving again to fistfight enemies in the astral plane. It was awesome, even.

But- lately his chest had inexplicably started to feel hollow. He was so happy, except for the constant pressure in the back of his eyes, and an annoying knot in his stomach. And sure, he could feel his control slipping with Blue, like their bond was just an echo of what it had been, like the connection was disturbed by a shitty cable plan, but it was going great. Zarkon was no more, Shiro was back with Matt, and the Galra army was still reorganizing itself, scattered and weak. They would be able to get it over with, finally, and go back home, leave all this shitshow behind and save the universe, whatever.

It only made sense to use every resource they had. And while Lance thought he had hidden his shortcomings well, what if he hadn’t? It didn’t matter. Of course they wanted Matt to pilot Blue in his place, because he was a shitty paladin anyway and wouldn’t it be better for everyone? He just wanted to go home, and him backing down was the faster solution.

So why couldn’t he bring himself to say it? To say, hey, Matt, I’m leaving Blue to you, treat her well, she’s a mighty lady. And why couldn’t his heart stop rabbiting in his chest, growing fangs to bite into his lungs and steal his breath? Why the fuck did he feel so empty?

He was surprised too, when a thud ringed clearly in the silence, and it was him hitting the floor, his legs suddenly giving out.

Confused, he watched two figures approach and- Shiro and Matt were looking at him weirdly, as he scrambled upright again, using the wall as a prop.

“Lance,” Shiro called, and he was frowning “Everything okay? We heard a noise.”

Lance laughed, although humorlessly. “Just tripped!” he lied, and now Matt was smiling, and he couldn’t bear it any longer, could he?

“No case of human slipperies, I hope,” Matt joked, and Shiro gave him a tight lipped, amused stare.

Lance winced. “Naah, I just took my shower a little too hot, I guess.”

Shiro looked relieved at that, but still suspicious, his eyes narrowed. “Good job out there, by the way,” he praised, slowly, clearly trying to make him feel better, and it hurt. Why did it hurt so much?

“A-Ah, of course! You, too,” he tried to hide the grimace behind a bright grin and a wink. An uncomfortable silence fell upon them. Huh. “Well!” he trilled “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my beauty sleep is calling me!” They laughed.

“Sure it is! Get some rest, Lance,” Shiro said, raising his hand to give him what would probably have been a reassuring pat, but Lance practically sprinted away, missing the troubled look Shiro and Matt shared.

Only when the door of his room was firmly closed behind his shoulders he let his legs fail him again, sliding down into a crouched position.

“Fuck,” he managed, low and broken, staring at his feet, as hot tears started streaming down his cheeks, “Fuck.”

Imagine it goes something like this

Jon: You’re King Robert’s son…the last Baratheon

Gendry: No, m'lord. I’m just a bastard.

Jon: My sister should have told you, I’m a king now. And a king can legitimize a bastard.

Gendry: *glances at Arya*

Jon: You are Gendry of House Baratheon. First of his name. Lord of Storms End.

Gendry: *clearly overwhelmed* …As you say, Your Grace.

Jon: And gods be good, let’s pray you’re as good with that warhammer as your father was.