gag tonight

Lol we had a hilarious accidental recurring gag tonight at the closing ceremony:

Demore: I hope [my appreciation and gratitude] reaches deep…
Demore: … into your /hearts/! I didn’t mean it in the dirty way… *at us, jokingly* behaaave!
Someone from the audience: never!
*everyone and Demore laughs*

Scott: again [I hope that our appreciation] reaches you deep… but unlike Demore I mean it in the dirty way..!

Hugh some time later ((about our awesomeness)): it reaches us deep… *realises the pun too late*
*everybody loses it*


Warnings: mentions of assault

“Where is she?”

Amaro’s voice echoed as he sprinted down the hospital hallway, Rollins following close on his heels. Olivia leapt to her feet at his words, immediately placing out hands to steady him, “Nick, take a breath.”

“Liv, what happened? Is she okay? Where is she?” He looked around desperately, brown eyes wild and broad chest heaving. 

Keep reading

Grayson Dolan Imagine- Innocence

Request: Please do a Gray imagine that he’s your first boyfriend and when you guys make out for the first time he’s super gentle and caring? (your innocent) I just really want the feels.

Warnings: slight smut, but not enough for you to be shook, you know? (but if you want to be shook hmu 😉)

Grayson Dolan. My first boyfriend. My first love. My first everything. We’ve been dating for about 6 months now and we’ve never done the deed. Hell, I’ve never done the deed. I’ve never even made out with him before.

I mean Grayson and I have had our fair share of heated moments but those usually ended with Ethan walking in, making gagging noises.

But tonight, I have a slight feeling that, that’s going to change. Grayson was over at my apartment and we were binge watching Orange is the New Black and eating pizza.

Ethan wasn’t feeling well so he stayed back at his and Grayson’s apartment. I had noticed a difference in Grayson’s behavior. He was a lot more quiet than usual and his hands would often roam down to my thigh and inch higher and higher, thinking that I didn’t notice.

But boy, do I notice.

Grayson picks up the remote and pauses the show. He doesn’t say a word as he puts his hand under my leg and wraps it around his waist, so that I’m straddling him.

“Yes?” I ask, placing him a peck on his pink lips.

As opposed to responding, he pulls me closer and kisses my neck before sucking and biting down on it, leaving a bruise.

I realize where this is going and gently pull away. “What’s wrong?” Gray asks, wrapping his arm around my waist, protectively. “It’s just… I’ve never, you know, done it before” I sigh.

“Really? Well if you want to stop, I get it. I would never want you to feel forced or anything.” He says clinging onto my hands. He’s such a sweet guy.

“No, I don’t want to stop. If I’m gonna lose my virginity, I want it to be with you.” I say cupping his face with my little hands. “Are you sure?” he says holding onto my wrists.

“Of course, I love and trust you so why not?”

“I love you too” he says, leaning in to kiss my plump lips. He let go of my wrists and cupped my face.

His kisses were getting deeper, but still remaining gentle, like I was fine china, about to break at any moment. He slowly crawls on top of me, his lips never disconnecting mine.

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed! I really want to do a part 2 so hmu if you want it 😉😉


The layout of the infirmary, pretty much locked down. Need to detail the operating table and add a shelf of ork skulls, and I think it’s a lock.

8 hours already today, another two or three before I pass out and start again tomorrow. Hope to have this gag done tonight so I can move onto the catwalk/assembling the throng, and start painting this weekend.

Schedule is going to be down to the wire, but sleep is for the weak.

The Truth Hurts

This is a Sanders Sides fic based on this webcomic panel:

Basically, I took that and threw in a heap of angst.

I have no beta reader, I’m not as amazing as most of this fandom, and the characters will most likely be OOC, but I wanted to give it a shot.

Words: 1.2K

Characters: Logan, Patton, small appearances of others

Relationships: Logan and Patton (possible romantic, possibly not); Roman and Anxiety (very small mention)

Triggers: Terrorist attack (made up for sake of story)

Inside the walls of the little Florida house, nothings appeared to be amiss. Thomas and Roman were in he bedroom, excitedly planning Monday’s video. From the various shouts and bursts of scribbling, they seemed to be making progress. Virgil was enjoying some alone time in his bedroom, music blaring and a small smile on his face. Meanwhile, Patton and Logan were preparing dinner for the five in the kitchen, soft classical music playing in the background. While Patton was an excellent cook, Logan could use some work in that department.

“Now, all you need to do is pour in a teaspoon of salt…Logan, buddy, that’s a tablespoon.” Patton chuckled. We’d rather not have everyone gagging on their dinner tonight.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “I understand the difference, Patton. However, I believe my glasses prescription needs to be updated. I cannot read the writing on this utensil.”

Eye think you’re right!”

Logan groaned.

“I bet you saw what I did there, huh?” Patton grinned, obviously on a roll.

“Patton, while your puns make sense in relation to the subject we are discussing, they are distracting me from our task.” Logan returned his attention to the meal, squinting at the measuring cup in his hand. Was this ½ of a cup or 1/3?

“One more, one more-”

Before Patton could finish his statement, the music ceased and a news program came on. “This just in - suicide bombers attacked New York this evening.” Logan felt Patton stiffen beside him. “About eighteen minutes ago, the first bomb went off in lower Manhattan, followed shortly by four others of considerable strength nearby. Dozens are thought to be dead, with hundreds more injured-”

Logan heard a sharp intake of breath. “Yes, it is rather awful, isn’t it? I do wish these sorts of things wouldn’t happen anymore - soon the bridges between communities will be irreparable.” He couldn’t tell what the next ingredient was - baking powder, or baking soda? “Patton, could you read this for-” Logan turned and stopped short.

Patton was hunched over, a hand over his face and quickened, shaky breaths being drawn and released. From the one eye still in Logan’s sight, a steady stream of tears poured. Choked sobs, previously covered by Logan’s talking, echoed in the kitchen - a sound of crippling pain.

“Patton, what is happening?!”

“T-turn off the radio-dio. Ple-Please, bud.” Patton’s voice was tight with pain.

Logan reached for the radio, deftly turning the knob so Patton’s ragged breathing was the only sound in the room.

“Patton, bring your hand away from your face.” Logan’s voice might have sounded commanding to most, but those who knew him well could have detected the underlying tone of concern in his demand.

Patton nodded tearfully, his posture more relaxed now that the radio was no longer playing. He took his hand away, revealing the mess underneath. A dark purple ring surrounded his bloodshot eye, with tinges of blue and green at the edges. The entire side of his face was puffy, tear tracks visible against the swells.

“Patton…how?” Logan was truly at a loss for words - a rare occurrence - at the sight before him.

Patton glanced mournfully at the radio, his eyes filling with tears once more. “All those deaths…all those people hurt…” To Logan’s shock, he started to shake slightly, as if barely holding himself together. “All those families…”

Logan wasn’t exactly the best at emotions. However, he knew facts. He could analyze problems and find solutions very well. And from past memories - Anxiety being comforted by Roman after a particularly bad day, the two joined on the couch to watch The Princess Bride; Patton offering a shoulder to cry on after Tommy’s break up with his significant other a few years back - Logan knew Patton needed comfort in this moment, preferably physical. So, incredibly awkwardly, Logan extended his arms and gave Patton an expression that hopefully conveyed sympathy and not constipation.

With a sob, Patton launched himself into Logan’s arms. He grabbed at his friend’s polo shirt, clinging to Logan in desperation. His crying was muffled by Logan’s chest, but shook both men in its strength.

Logan was beyond baffled. Patton never acted like this. Patton was the one who was always joking, always smiling, always so confident with the world. He was the one they all came to in their times of need. This Patton - the one who seemed so broken, so fragile - this Patton was new to him.

After a few minutes, Patton calmed down enough to detach himself from Logan, still sniffling but under control. He looked up and, upon seeing the confusion in Logan’s eyes, sighed softly. “Sorry about that, bud.”

Logan frowned slightly at the hidden tone of embarrassment in his voice. “There is no need to apologize. Whatever triggered this…” He searched for an appropriate word. “…episode, you certainly did not seem capable of controlling it. You required a form of comfort, and while I’ll admit I’m not the first one would normally go to for such things, I was content to provide it. As you did not inconvenience me in any way, I find your apology thoughtful, but unnecessary.”

Patton chuckled softly, a sign he was returning to his normal self. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. May I ask why this happened?”

Patton’s lip twitched. “You may.”

Logan waited a few seconds, then groaned as Patton giggled a bit at Logan’s exasperation. “Fine then, if you require me to be more literal: why did this happen?”

Patton gazed at the radio, an expression of sadness and wistfulness dawning. As if he longed to turn the radio back on to the classical station they had been listening to, letting the music block the world from his ears. “The news…I hate it. I hate the terrible stories it brings, stories of death and destruction and terrorism. It hurts.” He looked back at Logan, the pain so clear in his eyes. “It hurts so much.”

Finally, all the metaphorical puzzle pieces clicked in Logan’s head. He recalled seeing Patton duck out of the living room after the television had been turned on and CNN popped up, hearing the man hum to himself as the other discussed politics, watching him grimace in pain at the actions of extremists.

Of course these events hurt Patton: he represented Thomas’s morality, his heart. And Thomas, being the the caring and compassionate person he was, would feel heartbreak at the loss of innocent lives and the cruel actions of others. It made complete sense - Logan just hadn’t realized how directly this would affect Patton.

“I’m sorry,” Logan said. Those two words held so many others: “I understand”, “I’ll try to help”, “It hurts me too”. But these didn’t have to be voiced. Patton understood them clearly. “I truly am.”

Patton nodded, then clapped his hands together so suddenly that Logan jumped. “Well then! I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. Let’s finish up dinner so we can call the others down to eat, okay bud?”

Logan smiled. “Sounds like an excellent course of action.”

Unseen to either of them, Virgil slipped down the hallway back to his room, camera in hand. He was sure Logan would appreciate the picture of the two of them embracing for Christmas - maybe framed.

Preference #37: Little Girls (Calum)

I usually don’t post on a Saturday, but this is quite cute and I feel like posting it so, enjoy?!?

It was somewhere in the early hours of the morning but Calum had just gone to bed. He had just gotten home from his most recent world tour about 2 weeks ago, but the jetlag still hadn’t worn off. He tried to get back into a normal routine, but he had to get up every morning at 7, to take his 4 year old daughter Sienna to her playgroup, and you, his heavily pregnant wife, were going through a time of odd cravings, which usually came on at about 2-4am. Calum knew pregnancy cravings were weird, the sight of you eating pancakes literally drown in ketchup made him gag. Tonight had been okay though it was a Saturday tomorrow and it was Sienna‘s first ballet recital and afterwards you were all off to his parents house for a special dinner He was just about to go back to sleep after your 4:30 snack of steak with ice-cream, when he heard the creek of a door and the tap of tiny feet along her wooden floors.

“Daddy?” her voice was strained and tired. Calum yawned, turning his lamp on.

“You okay Sienna?” Calum asked. He could barely make out his tiny daughter, her hair tossed and a pout on his face.

“No,” Sienna replied and that’s when Calum noticed that she was crying. He stretched out his arms and there wasn’t a moment that passed before Sienna ran to him, burying her face in his ancient Nasa shirt.

“What’s the matter Bug-Boo?” Calum asked, rubbing her hair as she sobbed. Calum was beyond exhausted, but he had always promised to be there for his little girl. She just cried harder. It pained him to see her in such a state.

“Stop crying babygirl, it’s gonna be fine, I promise,” Calum soothed her. He had no idea what she was crying about but he was almost sure he would be able to protect her or stop whatever it was. “Tell me what’s wrong, I’ll fix it.”

Sienna managed to stop herself before mumbling, “I’m scared for my recital.”

“What?” Calum was laughing. “Don’t be silly Sienna, it’s gonna be great. You love being on stage!”

Sitting on the floor of the tour bus, 3 year old Sienna Hood was engrossed in the television. She was watching Angelina Ballerina, staring wide eyed at the screen. The room was quiet except for the squeaky mouse voices and the occasional sighs from the young Clifford boys because this show was “boring” but it was Sienna’s turn to choose what to watch. Sienna’s little brain was ticking, she wanted to be like that. She wanted to wear a pretty pink tutu and leap around the stage. She wanted to be a ballerina.

Sienna stood up and left the room that she stayed in while she was on tour with the other kids, pulling up her Hello Kitty pjs pants that was to big for her tiny waist as she walked. “Daddy?” Walking into the kitchen/lounge area of the bus, she called out for her Dad.

“What’s up bug-boo?” Calum bent down to his pint sized daughter and she threw her hands up, wanting to be picked up. Calum did so, holding onto her skinny leg as she flung her arms around his neck.

“Wanna be a ballerina!” Sienna exclaimed, looking into her fathers eyes.

Calum laughed. “Sure Si, you can be whatever you want.”

“No,” Sienna shook her head. “I wanna dance. On stage. In a pink skirt, like Uncle Luke’s!”

“Well that can be arranged,” Calum said, because if his daughter wanted to dance, his daughter would dance. “You would be a beautiful ballerina.”

“Wanna be a ballerina now,” Sienna insisted, pouting.

“Well you can dance all you want bug, but we’ll have to wait until you get home with your mum for lessons,” Calum explained. Sienna thought about it for a moment before nodding. She kissed her Dad’s stubbly cheek before sliding down, her bare feet barely touching the ground before she skipped off. Calum smiled fondly, thinking that tomorrow she would want to be a movie star, and she would want to do baseball the next.


The obsession didn’t pass. Sienna had her mind made up, she was going to be a ballerina. She loved the way it looked, toes pointed and complicated jumps and all the ballerinas she saw were so pretty. She wanted to be a pretty dancer, because she knew she was pretty, her Daddy said so, so it had to be true. She tried and tried but she couldn’t point her toes properly and always ended up on her butt.

“I’m getting lessons,” she would pout, every time she would do a dance for Alex Clifford and he would say that she looked stupid. “I’ll be amazing!”

Sienna was nearly four by the time she did get lessons. 4 months of sighing enviously and doing failed bunny hops before her Dad finally signed her up.

“It might be hard, Sienna. It’s not as easy as it looks,” Calum told her.

“I know Daddy. That’s why I need lessons!” Sienna sighed. It was obvious, she loved her Daddy but sometimes she couldn’t help but wonder why he was so stupid. “I can’t wait! I bet it’s gonna be so fun.” Sienna was prancing up and down in a her pink tutu that looked way to cute on her. Her tiny feet were stuffed into ballet slippers and her dark hair in a bun, courtesy of you.

“S’okay if your not good at it at first, though, don’t worry about it,” Calum told her. Sienna, like most 3 year old were not one bit graceful.

“I’m gonna be good, Dad. Promise!” Sienna sighed.

Sienna’s first lesson did not go to plan. She tried to copy what the teacher was doing, but her leg stuck out at an awkward angle and she fell and the other girls, who were much older, laughed at her. Sienna stuck out her bottom lip and made puppy eyes at her Dad. She wanted to be a good ballerina. “I can’t make you any better, Bug-Boo. You just have to practise, I promise you’ll get better then,” Calum told her. That sounded like a lot of work for Sienna, she didn’t realise that this would involve so much practise but Calum had to be right, because he was her Daddy and her Daddy was always right. So Sienna stuck at it. She went to lessons every Saturday morning as well as tap lessons Wednesday afternoon. She watched ballet videos so with so much interest on her dad’s iPad. She practiced in front of the mirror, perfecting the simplest steps before she would show anyone. Then Calum would dote over her. He never saw anything that looked so cute as his chubby-cheeked daughter in ballet tights and a leotard, dancing around his bedroom.

Sienna soon discovered that as always, her Daddy was right and she soon became an excellent ballerina, as well as being able to tap. Her dances were simple but graceful and more than enough to make everyone in the room cheer for her. She smiled proudly and would say “I know” when people commented on how good she was and she would take so much pride when Calum cheered for her and called her is “Little Ballerina!” But why was she so nervous now?

“But what if I mess up?” Sienna asked, her chocolate brown eyes filled with redundant worry. “Everyone will laugh and I won’t be allowed to be a ballerina anymore.”

“You won’t. I can tell. I know that you’re gonna be excellent. You’re gonna be so beautiful, Sienna,” Calum told her, smiling contently. Sienna’s sobs were reduced to tiny sniffs and Calum wipe her tears away.

“I thought I was always beautiful?” Sienna lisped her voice happy again. Calum laughed. There wasn’t a day that passed that Calum didn’t tell his daughter how beautiful she was.

“You are. You’re my beautiful princess. And you always will be, Bug-Boo, even if you do mess up,” Calum confirmed.

“You sure?” Sienna asked, lacing her tiny fingers with his.

“Positive,” Calum nodded. He gently kissed the top of Sienna’s forehead and laid her down next to him. “Go to sleep baby girl, you’re going to do excellent tomorrow.”

Sienna believed him and once again, he was right.

Did you like it? Do you think I should do the other boys?