ray easy

wolf--ink  asked:

"The Russian guy" Pfft, sounds like that anon doesn't know anything about the anime. Best to ignore cowards as you've said.

i’m just so annoyed like come up with legitimate reasons to criticize the show instead of making up shit and calling the show and the fandom ‘cancer’

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Lovable Losers + text posts (part 3)

6

“Thank you, Ray”

It’s easy to forget who you really are when you pretend for too long

(…..I wanted to draw crying Zarc probably…)

6

Rogue One Crew Reimagined as Dragons for @captaincoffeegirl515‘s birthday!!

(click on pictures for better readability captions)

Short summaries below the cut

Keep reading

Sex. Clothes. Popularity. Whatever.

Anthems for the bad bitches in teen movies who strike fear in the hearts of the students and faculty alike and can steal your man with the snap of their well-manicured fingers.

Tracks:

  1. Norgaard-The Vaccines
  2. Bubblegum Bitch-Marina and the Diamonds
  3. Rip Her To Shreds-Blondie
  4. Lolita-Lana Del Rey
  5. Barely Legal-The Strokes
  6. Heathers-Surf Curse
  7. Primadonna-Marina and the Diamonds
  8. Sixteen-No Doubt
  9. Jennifer’s Body-Hole
  10. Fluorescent Adolescent-Arctic Monkeys

Listen❀❁❀Follow

Also I feel so bad for the person who made this beautiful collage because its been stolen and reposted from them so many times I have no idea who even made it

 

*new female character in 0b*

c0br0s: sHe bEtTeR NOT beE a NueeWuhHhhHuh LoOoOovE EEEINturrrESt FOrrRruH COOuhSEEooAMUH 

y’all i wish i was fucking kidding you with this one. i’m not.

Sirens wail in the distance, the smoke barely settling from the gun fight, some “concerned” citizen no doubt reporting the unmistakable sound of gunshots, probably hoping to get a shout out on Weazel News. It wouldn’t surprise anyone in the slightest. Not when it comes to Los Santos.

The job hadn’t gone according to plan exactly, no one taking into account the ambush that had been waiting for them, but Geoff’s pretty sure his team’s still in one piece. He won’t know for sure, not until they meet up at the rendezvous point, but he has enough time to see Ray drag Ryan to his feet and Michael usher Gavin towards an alleyway before diving into Jack’s car, the door barely closed before her foot stomps on the gas, tires squealing as she rockets onto the street.

“You’re bleeding,” Jack points out, taking a sharp left, Geoff grabbing the door handle instinctively, gripping it for dear life.

“Am I?” Geoff is suddenly aware of the stinging pain coming from his arm. He glances over, noting the scarlet dribbling from his suit jacket, groaning softly. “I liked this suit.”

Jack snorts, shaking her head, and starts to slow down, most likely deeming it safe enough to go a decent speed. She clutches the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary, her knuckles turning a stark white, chancing a glance at Geoff, and says, “Ryan got hit.”

“A shoulder wound,” Geoff replies with a flippant hand wave. “Ray’ll make sure he gets to Burnie’s; he’ll be fine.” She gives him a dubious stare and he sighs. “Alright, I’ll call the others, tell them to meet at Burnie’s, if it’ll make you happy.”

“Thank you,” Jack states relaxing her grip on the steering wheel a little.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles digging his phone from his pocket. If he’s being honest, Geoff is worried too, but he knows how Ryan gets if anyone frets over him. He could be missing a limb and insist that he’s fine. That man is going to be the death of Geoff one of these days.

***

Ray hovers in the doorway of Burnie’s back room, watching him work. He ignores Ryan’s insistence that he’s fine, pressing gauze to the freely bleeding wound, shaking his head. This isn’t the first time Burnie Burns has had to help them and Ray knows this won’t be the last.

“Should charge you assholes extra,” Burnie complains beckoning Ray over to him. Burying his hands in his hoodie pocket, Ray crosses the room, stopping next to Burnie. Gesturing to the gauze in his hand, Burnie says, “Hold that for a second. I need to make sure the bullet actually went through.”

Ray’s hands replace Burnie’s, the gauze already turning a brilliant scarlet, and he starts poking at the exit wound on Ryan’s back. “Alright, you got lucky. It’s a clean shot, might leave a scar but you should be able to use the arm again if you take it easy.”

“Easy,” Ray murmurs with a snort, knowing ‘taking it easy’ and Ryan have never been used in the same sentence without the words 'will not be’ added to the mix. He’s constantly moving, constantly on the go, constantly doing something that it’s any wonder the guy actually sleeps.

“Yes,” Burnie deadpans pulling a suture set from his first aid kit, “easy.”

Burnie sets to work sewing up the bullet wound, all the while Ryan sits stoically, not making a sound, but Ray can see the pain in his eyes. The Vagabond may be good at hiding his emotions from his face, but he can never quite keep them out of his eyes. It’s something Ray doesn’t think Ryan knows about, or if he did he doesn’t bring attention to it. This could be why he chooses to hide himself behind those masks most of the time.

When Burnie’s finished, he yanks his gloves off, tossing them into a corner, stalking out of the room a moment later. When he’s gone, Ray fixes Ryan with a pensive look, chewing on his bottom lip, but doesn’t say anything.

“Problem?” Ryan turns his attention to Ray, quirking an eyebrow, his red and black face paint running down his face, smearing in some places.

“You could have let me take the bullet,” Ray states slowly, still watching Ryan.

“But I didn’t.”

“No,” Ray says after a brief pause, looking away from Ryan with a barely audible huff, “you didn’t.”

Burnie returns a moment later, a sudden yelp echoing through the room when he shoves a needle in Ryan’s arm. “That should stave off the pain for the night,” he says triumphantly, slamming a bottle of painkillers on the table. “Tell Geoff it’s the same fee as usual.”

“No need,” Geoff says from the doorway, the rest of the crew hovering behind him. He has his arms crossed, an amused look in his eyes. “Still got the bedside manner of a saint, I see.”

“Fuck off,” Burnie retorts with no heat behind his words. He closes his kit, drags it off the table, and starts towards the door, calling over his shoulder, “You can get the hell out whenever.”

“Alright, alright,” Geoff says turning to shove his crew towards the exit. “We still on for poker next week?” Burnie grunts in reply, disappearing behind another doorway. “Great.” He glances over his shoulder, eyes settling on Ray, and says, “Hurry up so we can get him home before the drugs kick in.”

“The drugs won’t affect me,” Ryan states with a nonchalant shrug. “I’ll be fine.” Geoff snorts but doesn’t respond, letting the door close behind him, and Ryan turns a dubious stare to Ray. “I’m fine.”

“Sure,” Ray concedes shoving a slightly damaged leather jacket at him. He gets a grunt in reply, immediately letting the subject drop, already too tired to deal with any of this tonight.

If ever, for that matter.

***

The drugs take a bit to affect Ryan, but Ray can pinpoint the exact second they take hold. One moment Ryan and Gavin are having the coin argument again (no one is quite sure what brought it on this time) and the next Ryan is giggling at something in the corner and Gavin is shouting, “He’s finally lost his bloody mind!”

“He’d actually have to be sane to lose his mind,” Michael calls from the breakfast bar, shoveling another spoonful of Froot Loops into his mouth. “What the fuck is he laughing at anyway?”

“It’s probably the painkillers,” Jack states from her lounged position on the couch, running her knife down the whet stone with an audible shink. “This is probably why he always refuses them.”

Ryan turns blue, owlish eyes to Ray and says, “I know you.”

“I know you, too,” Ray responds without looking up from his DS.

“I got shot,” he states in a matter of fact voice, frowning down at his bulky shoulder, a black t-shirt hiding the bandages. “I don’t like getting shot.”

“No one does, dumbass.” Michael hops off his stool, carrying his cereal bowl to the sink, dropping it in with a loud clatter. “Maybe next time you’ll duck.” He heads towards the door, grabbing his jacket off the hook. “Who wants a ride to The Vanilla Unicorn? I’m buying the first round.”

Gavin jumps up, eyeing Ryan warily, glassy blue eyes tracking his movements as he rushes towards the door. Geoff, who hadn’t even been in the living room, appears at the prospect of tits and alcohol, following right on Gavin’s heels.

“Anyone else?” Michael asks, his eyes on Ray.

“I’m good,” he answers mashing buttons, trying to get his stupid character to catch the damn butterfly.

“Suit yourself.”

The door closes a moment later, effectively cutting off Gavin’s bitching about how much creepier Ryan is on morphine. Ray’s is aware of Jack closing her knife, collecting both it and her whet stone, and getting up, murmuring something about taking a shower.

Silence settles over the apartment the moment Jack is gone, Ray silently cursing at the stupid game before shutting it off and tossing it to the other end of the couch. He doesn’t even know why he bought it; it has brought him nothing but wasted hours and frustration. It’s one stupid butterfly; it should not be that hard.

He pulls his legs up to his chest, resting his chin on his knees, and glances over at Ryan. He’s rocking back and forth, staring blankly at the floor, barely able to keep his eyes open. One good wind could knock the guy over, and had this been anyone else Ray might have gently nudged him with his foot just to see what happens, but he refrains.

“You should probably go lie down,” he says instead, unfolding his legs, shoving himself to his feet. A hand shoots out, grabbing his wrist in a surprisingly strong grip, yanking him back onto the couch. “Okay, I guess we’re just gonna sit here.” He glances down at the hand wrapped tightly around him and says, “I’ve never been the hand holding type, but I guess I can make an exception.”

“Sorry.” Ryan lets him go, a dejected look on his face.

“You okay, buddy?”

“Can I tell you something?” Ryan asks suddenly, his mood shifting again. It’s almost enough to give Ray whiplash.

“Sure.”

“Do you promise not to tell anyone? Especially Ray.”

Barely suppressing a snort, Ray says, “I promise.”

“Good.” Ryan nods, trying to focus his eyes, giving up after a moment. “Ray’s my favorite,” he admits after a beat, nodding again, a pleased smile on his face. “It’s why I took the bullet.” He gestures to his shoulder, frowning again. “I don’t like getting shot.”

Ray’s not sure how to respond, knowing anything he says wouldn’t be remembered in the morning. He knows he has to say something though, even if it’s to make a joke, but he can’t quite push down the sudden irritation he feels. Ryan took a bullet meant for him because of what? So he didn’t have to see Ray hurt? He’s not made of glass; he would have healed.

He feels something warm lean against him, the drugs finally dragging Ryan into sleep, his head heavy against Ray’s shoulder, and Ray feels his irritation slip away. The Vagabond may be a scary mofo who enjoys causing as much mayhem as possible, but Ryan Haywood was a big ol’ softy at heart.

With a quiet huff, Ray shakes his head and says, “I guess you’re my favorite too, jackass.”

6

so i made a bullshit post asking “what if all of the events that took place in life on mars were just sam’s goddamn animal crossing town and he just cant stop playing”

it amused me and stuck in my head, so i drew some bullshit doodles when i exhausted myself from cramming for bullshit finals

because SOMEONE around here has to make stuff for this bullshit fandom

I’m not a failure because I haven’t gotten to where I want to be yet; that’s not how it works.