got off of google

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American Gods Crossover Verse featuring TechGod!Tony

Fic Prompt: Loki ( Old God ) and Tony (New God) are plotting ways to stop the new threat against their dominions. Possibly Thanos and Lady Death.

p.s. I am thinking of Jarvis as some kind of Siri (navigation app) Tony has that helps him control and implement his powers.

Pairing: FrostIron

Original Post #1 Post #2 Post #3 Post #4

Art Notes:

Man that took me a long while to put up this continuation of my verse! Real life really got in the way. But happy that I finally finished this one after a long interim wait.

disclaimer: Got the Jarvis skeleton off google and tweaked it XD because I don’t have the patience for all the straight lines. LOL

GOT7 Reaction to their s/o or bff getting into a fight

Request: Okay so short story: I got into an actual fight defending a friend of mine (that I have a crush on wow) and I have a bruise on my jaw now. How would got7 react to a friend/crush/So getting into a fight w/ someone? Alternative: bts or got7 reaction to a protective s/o?

I DO NOT OWN THESE GIFS, I GOT THEM OFF OF GOOGLE. 

CREDIT TO THE PEOPLE WHO MADE THEM

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anonymous asked:

hopefully this makes sense, but when you outline, you have your black lines, and then the pink ones in the face and stuff, how do you achieve this? like do you separately draw the pink lines after the black or how is this done? aaah i hope that makes sense

first you outline everything in black, then you press this nifty little button here by the layers menu

it locks the opacity, so you can color over the layer without going outside the lines. you can also create a new layer on top of your lines and make it a clipping layer (option + click between the two layers) and color there. both have the same effect

Hunting Island

(Credit to whom ever this pic belongs to. I got it off Google)

Title: Hunting Island

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Jensen/You

Warnings: Rated NC-17 for smut, there’s a tiny modicum of angst if you squint and fluff all round!

Word Count: 5,793

Summary: Jensen needs a vacation but what he gets is a new way of looking at things.

This was written for Kayla’s Birthday Challenge @one-shots-supernatural! Thanks so much for letting me join the challenge. This was a lot of fun and I hope you have a great birthday on May 17! My quote was: “Petrichor… it means the smell of the rain after it falls.” And my place was Camping!

It’s been difficult for Jensen to go anywhere lately without being noticed by someone. And while he usually doesn’t mind signing an autograph or taking a picture or two, the man needs a vacation. Last night, you could tell by the gravel tone of his voice over the phone that the man was exhausted.

Luckily, season 12 of Supernatural had just wrapped, and he was headed home to you for a much needed break.

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for @not-all-trains and @courf, who were 110% on board with this little au happening, of course:

jacobi is, for all intents and purposes, really good at his job. it’s probably got about 50% to do with graduating with every honor they could stack on his shoulders at commencement (was not sleeping for three years worth the sour look on his father’s face from the audience when he got up to collect the degree his old man never earned? absolutely), and maybe he can credit about 10% to his dashing good looks and another 15% to the thing that goose-steps up his spine when his boss looks at him and says “go ahead, mr. jacobi” like he’s a monster, like he’s feral, wild—

but the other 25% is luck, just down-home, kiss-the-gods-and-slap-a-baby luck. he always cuts the right wire, he always beats the clock, he always takes apart or puts together or utterly ruins anything he’s let loose upon. it’s a “positive character trait”, according to his last evaluation. daniel jacobi burns to the ground everything that’s ever crossed his path and stopped to say hello.

even the only good thing he’s ever got.

when it boils down to it, it’s because he was stupid. because he got soft, got complacent, thought he could slough off what he did in the dark when he got home because—well, because his people could take care of themselves, right? kepler’s the scariest son of a bitch this side of pluto (the scariest human one, anyway; he’s got a boss named cutter who sets jacobi’s teeth on edge just hearing his name) and alana can wield a wrench the size of her own body and has a tongue as sharp as that wrench is heavy. they can take care of themselves. they can look over their shoulders and spot the shadows in the corners of the room and they can stay safe.

now, though, in a room with a bomb the likes of which he’s never seen before and a boyfriend he’s only had for a summer, jacobi realizes that’s only because they knew what to look out for in the first place. it takes a monster to know one and this time, the sort of people who want him dead went after the only thing that reminds jacobi that he isn’t always a beast.

“we’re gonna be fine, doug,” he says, like he’s talking to a scared animal, “we’re gonna get out of this.”

doug’s a darling, a real team player, and jacobi does him the favour of pretending he doesn’t see how hard his hands are shaking. “don’t worry about me, sweetheart. i’ve been in worse places than this.” he glances around, remarkably calm. “the air force. county prison. ikea the day after black friday.”

jacobi laughs, he can’t help it, and at the same time he’s starting to realize there’s not much he knows about doug, not really. to be fair, there’s not much doug knows about him (the job, the bombs, the things that stalk up and down his spine and reach claws out through his mouth, grab at anyone around to rip and tear and hurt just because they can)—they’d just sort of clicked. by the time they breezed past “help, my arms are stuck in my binder and if you laugh i’ll kill you,” jacobi wasn’t sure how they’d circle back around to “so, remember how i told you i was a chemist? well—”

it was your grade-a rom com meet-up: boy sits on the counter of his best friend’s prosthetics shop, tinkers with some spare parts and scrubs at the sharpie dicks she’d scribbled all over his arm when he’d fallen asleep during movie night. other boy walks in with his hand literally falling to pieces as he crosses the threshold, makes a fullmetal alchemist joke and asks if they accept gently burnt chocolate chip cookies as payment (alana tells him it’s on the house if he takes her friend to dinner. the first boy falls off the counter). boys bond over being broken, over steel fingertips and copper veins.  

boys make the mistake of thinking they could have even just this one good thing.

“i, uh, i do this for a living.” jacobi gestures at the device merrily ticking away in front of them. “make them. break them. ‘boom boom wow’ kind of thing, you know?”

“you? the guy with a biomech arm so snazzy it makes mine look like a tinker toy?” doug chuckles, wheezes a little at the end (it’s cold in here, and damp, and that friend of his with the sharp eyes and the stutter had told him that sometimes, doug just can’t breathe), “here i thought you were some kind of librarian or something.”

“i’m always a slut for the dewey decimal system,” jacobi tells him and grins when eiffel laughs, frowns when it stutters to a gasp at the end. they’ve got to get out of here—he’s got to get them out of here.

he loses himself in it for a while, the art of trailing wires and so many parts stacked together like a house of cards, a breath away from coming down—there is no bomb that can best him, no wires he can’t unwind. it’s a dance he’d done a thousand times before, muscle memory now, tissue and tech and he cuts the right wire because of course he does. because he’s just that good. the numbers on the display flicker out and jacobi sits back on his haunches, sagging with relief.

the beeping stops.

the hissing starts.

doug whistles through his teeth. “daniel?”

“yeah?”

“that's—”

“not good?” he’s frozen in place, watching the faint shimmer of air around the ports in the bomb, dumping something he can’t smell or taste into the room with them. “yeah.”

“ah.” he doesn’t sound scared, or upset, or angry that jacobi’s fucked up, that he’s dug the hole they’re in that much deeper. doug just sounds tired. “okay.”

there’s something that lurks in the the corners of doug’s smile and the whites of his eyes—jacobi feels like he’s looking in a mirror some days, realizes he can’t stand to see that shadow on someone else’s face. he grabs doug’s hand, presses carbon-fiber and chrome palms together and watches the glint of bronze against his steel. “hey—no, listen. we’re not dead yet.” doug arches an eyebrow and jacobi knows he sounds insane, parroting back the same old thing kepler tells him every job, every time. “it’s not over til we’re dead.”

doug looks at him for a long moment and jacobi looks back—if they—when they get out of this, he’ll drop to his knees and thank whichever god is listening for this, for this man and this fucking chance at carving out even a semblance of something happy, of something he can’t break. he lets doug pull their hands closer, watches him press a kiss to jacobi’s knuckles and marvels that he can feel it every time. “alright then,” doug tells him, dropping their hands to rest on his knee. “get us out of here, dynamite dan.”

it startles a laugh out of him and the crush around his throat eases for just a moment, just long enough for him to reply, “as you wish,” and pull his hand away.

but that’s the thing about fire, about destruction—it’s only ever waiting for a chance. jacobi sees the flash before he feels it, static crackling to life between their metal palms, wrapping around their fingers like rings and bridging the gap between them for an instant before tasting gas. 

alana had joked, after the first date had gone well, and the third, and the fifth and seventh and twelfth, that they had a certain spark, and laughed herself sick while he rolled his eyes.

the spark catches; the air hums with it. 

unfortunately, jacobi doesn’t think this is what she’d meant.

Imagine Sandor Clegane catching your eye

(Got the gif off Google, if you made it tell me and I’ll credit you!)

The first time you had seen him you were with Arya, as the handmaiden of the rambunctious girl, you chased her through the crowd as she weaved herself in between the masses trying to catch a glimpse of King Robert Baratheon and his kingsguard, the thing that most intrigued her. When you finally managed to push your way to her she was atop of a carriage giving her full view of the knights as they began to ride past. The first two carried the sigil of the house Baratheon, followed by more knights, before the boy prince Joffrey himself rode past, however his sworn shield is what caught your eye. His armor was darker than the rest of the knights and his helmet was shaped like a snarling hound. He was larger than most and you, like most, had heard stories of the prince’s shield. The Hound with the burnt face. Terrible tales of how his face was brutally disfigured by fire, leaving him looking grotesque and monstrous to anyone who laid their eyes upon him. His helmet covered his face leaving his scars hidden which did nothing to lessen your curiosity in what he truly looked like, but before you had a second to truly think more about the man, Arya jumped from atop the carriage and sprinted back towards the Starks who were lined up waiting for King Robert Baratheon to greet them. You ran behind her and ushered her into the line next to Bran before rushing to stand behind her, next to Jon and Theon.

Just as you turned, the knights rode up in front of the Starks. The Hound came to a stop right behind Prince Joffery before pulling the teeth of his helmet and opening it, exposing his face. The helmet cast a shadow on his face which did not allow you to see the extent of the burns, but you caught a slight glimpse of the flame charred skin over his right eye. His eyes scanned the group of people in front of him before they landed on you. His eyes were brown and his gaze was steely, but you did not find yourself turning and looking away. His stare almost completely took your attention that when King Robert finally rode in, you almost forgot to drop to your knees as a sign of respect. After he allowed you all to rise up again, you once again looked back to the man to find that his gaze had been placed elsewhere.  As the king and Ned greeted one another you tried to shush Sansa and Arya who were murmuring about “the imp” and Jamie Lannister. Soon Ned and King Robert left to the crypts essentially dismissing all of you, you then preceded to drag Arya to her chambers to ready her for the feast which was to come later on that evening.


As you rushed out of Arya’s chambers to locate some water for the little wolf you collided into a strong body. The impact left you on the floor and the empty pitcher at the feet of the person you had collided with. “What’re you rushing about for, girl?” a gruff voice rang out. You looked up to see the same man, or rather Hound, from earlier. This time he had no helmet on, and the light from the torches on the wall allowed you to get a better look at him. He was large, much larger than many of the men in Winterfell, that was for sure. His hair was long enough to cover the marks on the right side of his face, but in this instant, they had been pushed aside which gave you a full view of the skin. The craterous, fire cracked skin ran down from his right temple to his right cheek. The scorch marks ended towards the middle of his cheek, where the skin was instead covered with a thick beard. “Are ya deaf or mute, girl ?” he called again to you. You realized you had been staring and started out an apology. “I’m sorry Ser, I was just going for some water.” He bent down to pick up the pitcher and then reached for your arm. He lifted you up with ease before passing the pitcher back. You looked back at his face and then took notice of his brown eyes, due to you now standing you could more greatly appreciate his features. If it wasn’t for the burns on his face you could have seen many women throwing themselves at his feet for he was quite handsome. You began to blush at the thought and soon looked down, away from his face. “Do I frighten you that much or disgust you so that you must look away from me?” “No,” you quickly called out, “I’m just..” you trailed off not knowing how to put into words what you thought. “In any case, watch out. A pretty little thing like you could get hurt from rushing around blindly in these halls.” You looked up to see him gazing down at you. You smiled bashfully at his words as your cheeks flamed even more before thanking him and rushing around him. You hurried down the hall and turned a corner before managing to catch your breath. The Hound had truly managed to catch your intrigue.

Note: This is the first fic I’ve written (and published) so some feedback would be greatly appreciated! I hope you guys like it and if you want more just let me know!