you have had enough

Can I sit here? All the other tables were full (Yondu x Reader)

Requested


You hadn’t planned on coming to this particular bar. It just happened to be the one closest to your apartment. You would have never guessed it would be this packed on a Tuesday night. You had had a long day at work and you really needed a drink. People had been walking all over the entire day and you just wanted to be alone. Guess even that wasn’t going to happen tonight.

You ordered a drink taking it and deciding you’d try to find somewhere to sit. You checked everywhere but every last table was full. Until you saw in the back corner that there was a man sitting a booth all by himself. Normally you would have never done this but you had had enough today. You walked over taking a deep breath. You put your nicest smile on cradling your drink to you.

“Um excuse me sir?” You asked your voice barely loud enough to be heard over the busy bar.

Yondu was just thinking and drinking when he heard a voice by his side. He glanced over seeing a girl standing next to him. He couldn’t make out what she said but he could see he face turning red despite her smile. It was rare that someone just walked up to him at a bar, especially a Terran girl.

“Whatcha want?” He asked his voice gruff.

“Oh… I… can I… can I sit here? All… all the other tables are full.” You said quickly your eyes wide at his rough voice.

Yondu studied you for a minute before nodding. You quickly settled into the other side of the booth not saying anything. He watched you sip your drink. He was impressed at your choice of drink. He couldn’t help but wonder who would have the courage to just walk over and sit with him. You must have some balls of steel.

You sat there glancing up at the blue man across from you. Maybe you had made a mistake. He looked rough and his teeth were metal and sharpened. You tried not to stare but you noticed the scars that covered his face. He gave you a grin and your eyes widened before you looked back down. You were silent for a moment before you decided that you should probably introduce yourself.

“I’m…. I’m (y/n).” You looked up at him as you introduced yourself.

“Yondu Udonta.” He cocked an eyebrow as he watched you nurse your drink.

You gave him a small smile trying to seem nice. This was probably a bad idea. Instead of relaxing you felt more uncomfortable than usual. Especially because you could feel his red eyes burning into you.

Yondu watched as you didn’t react to his name. That’s when it clicked. You had no idea who he was. Why else would you walk over to him like that and just sit down. He grinned a little as he checked you out. You were a cute one for a Terran.

“Ya keep nursing yer drink like that an it’s gonna be hot by the time ya drink it.” He warned as he downed his drink before pouring another one from the bottle in front of him.

“Yeah I guess you’re right.” You blushed as you looked up at him.

You drank your drink quickly trying to do what he wants. You put the empty glass on the table and before you knew it he had poured you a drink too. You didn’t know where this was going but you were so sick of being scared of doing anything different or new. You took the drink missing the smirk that crossed his face.

“So… whatcha doin here?” He asked his eyes dropping to watch you drink.

“Oh… I had a bad day at work so I thought…. well I thought I’d get drunk…. you know to forget it.” You were kind of embarrassed to tell him this and you felt the blush cross your face.

“I know another way ta get rid of the stress and forget about work.” He grinned down his drink.

“And what is that?” You asked already kind of knowing what he meant.

“Why don’t ya take me to yer place and I’ll show ya.” He flirted.

peeblcs  asked:

GOOD MORNING MY BEAUTIFUL DOLL. ILY AND I HOPE YOU HAD A GOOD SLEEP. HAVE YOU EATEN? ARE YOU GETTING ENOUGH WATER?

GOOD MORNING SWEETHEART.

I HAVE EATEN AND HAD MY COFFEE. I AM FUELED FOR THIS BEAUTIFUL CITY OF SHITTY PEOPLE.

I LOVE YOU, ARE YOU FAKING CARE OF YOURSELF?

Girls having fun~

Boi, can you believe it’s already been a whole year since Horikoshi saved my life

"you dont need tools for witchcraft"

i know tons witches, espcially on tumblr, always say this but a lot of times it dosnt seem true. those same blogs posting about “not needing tools” (myself included) reblog photos of sparkiling crystals and decorated altars. in comparison, our own practice can seem inadequate. but remeber that witchcraft is an old practice, and while over centuries this practice has grown and changed, the basis of the craft is old as fuck. the mothers of our practice most likely didn’t have access to a houndred different crystals, the entire whole foods spice rack, and dozens of specialized tools. the mothers of our craft were creative and worked with what was locally available, not $30 organic vanilla beans flown in from mesoamerica (unless that just so happened to be where they lived). the mothers of our craft were nifty and clever, and knew how to make everything out of anything. so, while beautiful, shimmering, lovely items are always nice -and can make us /feel/ witchy- our witch moms founded this practice without them.

someone on the TAZ tag wanted to see Taako cooking with his aunt, so here it is

Young Taako and his aunt whom I called Jeremiah in my head though I don’t know why

People of the World please spread the word  please read, I beg you

People, I’m venezuelan and I still live here, I’m one of those people that still believe that our country will be a good place to live someday. We are going through very hard and difficult times. I know I only post my art here and I don’t like to bother you with personal stuff, but this is much more than personal. THE PEOPLE AROUND THE WORLD NEED TO BE INFORMED about what’s going on here in Venezuela. Since years, months, weeks and days, venezuelans in the country are fighting for our rights. We are protesting peacefully, we don’t want more dead or injured people, we don’t want our people to look in the trash for food anymore, we don’t want our people to make lines to buy the things they need, we don’t want our people dying in the hospitals because there is no medicine or equipment, we don’t want our people to be killed because they didn’t have a good phone to be stolen, we don’t want our children dying of hunger, we don’t want our classmates to be arrested for no reason and tortured in jail, we don’t want our beloved ones dying because they decided to protest, ALL WE WANT IS OUR RIGHTS TO BE RESPECTED! OUR RIGHTS AS HUMANS! You don’t know HOW PAINFUL is living in here, knowing that there are mothers that die, hungry because they gave the last they had to feed their babies and somewhere else there are people of the government relaxing on a beach, buying Mercedes Benz, or having a fancy dinner.  Yesterday, april 19 people took the streets one more time and the government  did the same as always. THREE people died yesterday in the hands of the government. Nicolás Maduro sabe que esto se acabó. He knows! We venezuelans have had ENOUGH of you! 

Today, april 20, the people went back to the streets, and it happened the same way. I was in my apartment and suddenly a lot of gnb (military police) appeared in the street. The people, that is really REALLY mad at them, started yelling and insulting them, they are murderers. The gnb started shooting at the buildings (some windows are broken) and then used lacrimogen gas on us. THEY ARE SHOOTING WITH GAS THE BUILDINGS WHERE ARE CHILDREN, BABIES AND OLD PEOPLE! 

WE CAN’T STAND THIS ANYMORE! THIS GOVERNMENT, THE GOVERNMENT OF NICOLAS MADURO MOROS IS KILLING US AND THE WORLD NEEDS TO KNOW IN ORDER TO NOT LET IT HAPPEN TO YOU! CHOOSE YOUR POLITICIANS WISELY, PEOPLE, OR YOU COULD END WITH A CORRUPT, DRUG DEALER, MURDERER PRESIDENT

I won’t post photos in here, but for the sake of you, search in twitter or instagram with the tags #20abril or #19abril. The social media is the only thing left for us. No tv channels or radio stations are transmitting what’s really happening

I’m sorry it’s a really long post but you don’t know how much more I want to write about this

Fleur Delacour

anonymous asked:

What If one of the fakes had a high school reunion or something like that and just took the crew and it somehow ended in a shoot out with the cops.

Let’s just be clear, it’s not a pride thing. Geoff has never cared what people said about him, not outside a professional sense anyway; he knew exactly who he was, what he was capable of, even before he’d taken an entire city to its knees. So it’s not that he felt the need to prove himself, it’s just that there’s something particular about high school trauma, isn’t there? Something that lingers, even when it shouldn’t, something that emerges from even the most upstanding adults when thrown back together for a reunion, the bullies and the bullied, all desperate to show what they’ve become.

Geoff’s last high school was nothing like he’d ever been to before, a snobby upper-crust hellhole he was only in because his Ma’s third husband pulled some strings, and the other students were quick to point out just how much he didn’t belong. Between the tattoos and the smoking, the lazy looks and slow sneering drawl, it was always all too easy to label Geoff a loser, a drop out, trailer park trash everyone knew would be washing their cars one day. Never mind that he scored higher than most of his cohort even when skipping more or less every class, never mind that he is possibly the most well-read crime-lord in the country, back then he had an image and teenagers are relentless. Not that Geoff was all that phased even at the time, only a year or so away from the day he picked up his first gun and never looked back, but it’s the principal of the thing.

So when an invite forwards through from an email so old he’d forgotten he’d even made it Geoff has to laugh. Then pause, consider, hatch an utterly ridiculous idea, and laugh some more. Because he might not care, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy ruining the night for all the pathetic stuck-up nobodies he went to school with; rubbing your success in everyone’s faces is what reunions are for, after all. The fact that it has a theme, that it is masquerade of all things, really just cements Geoff’s resolve to drag his crew halfway across the country into one of the strangest nights of their lives.

Everyone knows the option to bring a guest to these events is, in reality, the offer to bring a romantic partner, singular, but it isn’t technically stated. There are no rules barring Geoff from RSVP-ing for 7, so that’s exactly what he does. Sure he receives a few increasingly less polite emails suggesting he’d been mistaken but he doesn’t even bother opening them, doesn’t try to clarify that he is bringing his friends, his family, not his entire harem. Let them talk; they’d do it anyway. Plus, it’s not like the Fake’s aren’t all entirely too pleased with the suggestion, cackling hyenas who spend the next few weeks laying it on thick, batting their eyes and blowing Geoff kisses, picking out increasingly absurd meet-cute stories to tell his scandalised classmates. Between creating new identities and playing dress up in masks and suits they couldn’t be happier.

Masks or not they catch every eye in the room when they make their entrance and why wouldn’t they; Geoff and his unusual request must have been the talk of the rumour mill and identity hidden or not clearly this must be Geoff, it’s not like anyone else brought along 6 dates. As stage whispers hit a dull roar it’s obvious no one was prepared for what they were seeing, perhaps imagined instead stained tank tops and a string of strung-out baby mama’s, not expensively tailored suits and an attractively refined entourage. Paying the noise no heed Geoff swans into the room with Jack looking elegant on one arm, Gavin at his most Ken-doll glamorous tucked under the other, flanked on either side by Ryan, Michael, Jeremy and Ray, all dressed to impress.

Shock and jealousy aren’t good looks on anyone, let alone rich brats turned elitist yuppies, so Geoff’s classmates behave just as poorly as he’d anticipated, years and newfound maturity doing nothing to stop the tittering laughter, the sneers and judgmental looks, fake pleasantry and condescending questions. But then, his crew didn’t exactly play nice with them either.

Ray and Jeremy immediately beeline to the food table and bar, respectively, and each set themselves up and settle in for the night; loud, obnoxious and tactlessly talking about everyone around them. When asked about themselves or their relationship to Geoff they’re both frustratingly vague, Jeremy chattering away without saying much at all and Ray simply staring people down until they can’t bear the tension.

Michael and Ryan set off together to explore the room but quickly separate to accommodate their vastly different methods of surveillance. Ryan skulks into the background, ducking numerous attempts to catch his interest in favour of fading into unlit corners and empty nooks, frightening the life out of anyone trying to slip away for some private time. Michael, on the other hand, seems determined to be the life of the party, cheerfully making conversation only to laugh in the face of every so-called achievement, ruffling feathers and causing major offence wherever he goes.

Gavin slinks off like a man on a mission and doesn’t come back for over an hour, offering no explanation for the absence beyond a dangerously self-satisfied smirk. His work becomes obvious soon enough anyway, once the yelling starts; Geoff’s two main high-school tormentors, mentioned only in passing stories over the years, simultaneously having huge, public, relationship-ending blow ups with each of their significant others. What are the odds? Across the hall Gavin laughs, all tinkling glass and sparkling charm, smoothly working the room like Michael’s mirror opposite.

Jack stays at Geoff’s side all night, hackles raised into something abnormally cold and unimpressed any time someone comes up to speak to them, protective instincts in full force no matter how often Geoff claims to be unaffected. He fills her in on all the worst gossip about those who approach, and as the night progresses and general unease begins to spread Jack mellows, sinking back into something sweet and mocking, somehow even more unsettling playing docile arm-candy than she was rabid guard dog.

Throughout the night the Fake AH Crew remain a key topic of every casual conversation; they might have been regardless, even this far from Los Santos no one can get enough of their scandals, but with the huge heist pulled just last week there was no way to avoid it, everyone has their two cents, their praise and condemnation. It’s too funny, the whole crew killing themselves trying not to break character, to laugh or correct or manipulate the conversation but all their self-control is well rewarded in the end.

Half the room removed their masks less than an hour into the night; too difficult to eat and talk and drink in, too vain to keep their hard earned looks covered, so it’s not at all strange when the Fake’s start to follow suit. Jeremy and Ray start it, the newest member and the one caught on camera the least often, casually dropping their masks mid-conversation. They each get a confused squint or two, a double glance, a few individuals trying to place them, remember how they’d met before, why they were so familiar.

Next came Gavin and Michael, having goaded each other out onto the dance-floor they were playing as much as they were moving to the music, laughing and grappling and generally making a bit of a scene. They snatch off each other’s masks as they play and the looks double, because alone they’re each distinctive but together, together, people have seen those faces together, somewhere they’ve seen them and so often together..

Last is Jack and Geoff, more graceful than their counterparts and moving with far more purpose they reveal their faces in the centre of the room and, like a party trick, they instantly catch the whole room’s attention. Out of context, in ones and twos where they don’t belong, the members of the FAHC could be mistaken but no one in the country would fail to recognise Ramsey and Patillo, the kingpin and his right hand, rulers of the most well-known gang in the US. And here they stand, casually mingling at a high school reunion.

In the calm before the storm the crew gravitates back towards one another, can almost see the cogs turning around them, the lightbulbs flickering on in a slow ripple spreading out across the room, disbelief and the first hint of horror swirling together as people start unconsciously reaching for their phones. As Ryan slips back out and wanders over, the last still masked, always masked, the chatter seems to crescendo then crash into something still and almost silent as a room full of entitled trust-fund babies recognise their own terror.

Finally uncovered and flanked by his family Geoff’s grin creeps across his face, slow and violent and more confirmation than anyone needed as he lets the oppressive tension sit for a long moment, arms spreading out to his sides like a magician revealing a clever trick before he breaks the silence; Surprise motherfuckers.

Guns are pulled from jackets and from there it’s all running and screaming, no honour or courage, just a stampede for the exits to the sound of cackling laughter and the occasional aimless pot-shot. The Fake’s aren’t looking for lives, not worth the hassle really, and this job certainly has no monetary reward beyond the wallets Geoff’s filthy little thieves have no doubt absconded with, but the fear in the air is delightful and even the sound of incoming sirens can’t ruin the mood. If anything it only hypes them up further, all savage grins and ramping excitement as they make for doors, reloading their weapons and pumping themselves up for a whole new police force to terrorise, Geoff’s magnificent little miscreants.

On the way out they pass a wall of yearbook photos, blown up large and captioned with names and all the old superlative awards. Ryan stumbles to a halt and snorts, snatching one off the wall and tucking it into his jacket to take back to the penthouse, though not before flashing the Lads a glance at that all too recognisable face, sending them into peals of screeching laughter as they pour out into the night. Geoffrey Fink; Least likely to succeed. 

Here to shake things up

[Ko-fi / Redbubble]

Misha Collins @ SeaCon

was pretty much worth the price of admission, tbh:

  • When asked what he shipped, went off on a tangent about how when he first started conning few dared ask that question and he had no idea what it meant (while now he knows what an OTP is), and then said he wasn’t going to give his usual answers with the car or Bobby, before finally saying, ‘Well, I’ve written a lot of Wincest.’
  • Thinks Cas prefers to be an angel rather than a human (because he’s going to be a weird misfit dork as any species and at least as an angel he’s got superpowers).
  • When asked where is Sam’s handprint brand from when Cas pulled him out of hell, gave a pretty much unrepeatable answer about doing it where/how it wouldn’t leave a visible scar. It’s what you’re thinking, if you have a dirty mind. There were gestures. And the Cas voice (something like, “It might sting…”)
  • Confirmed the existence of X-rated cast&crew-party-only gag reels.
  • Is unbelievably adorable with his kids (which, obviously, but the way his voice changes around them, aww).
  • Would not win the Newlywed Game (because he and his spouse are not newlyweds!)
DEH characters as things I have said to my friends
  • Evan: Do you secretly hate me and only hang out with me out of pity
  • Connor: Who here wants to fake date me at our high school reunion because I will inevitably be alone
  • Jared: I make so many gay jokes because I am a gay joke
  • Alana: No I can't hang out because I have homework for both of my schools to work on and extra-curriculars and extra credit work oh and I'm also busy because I want to finish this 500 page book by tomorrow
  • Zoe: When I'm accepting my Tony I won't mention you if you don't do these harmonies with me right now
  • Larry: Repressing emotions is so fun, amirite guys? Guys?
  • Cynthia: No I don't eat candy sorry
  • Heidi: I love you all so much have you had enough water today?
I’m sorry I could never be the daughter you wanted
Mile High Club

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, blowjobs

Word Count: 785

Prompt: The reader finds a quick way to calm Dean down during a flight.

Beta: @impala-dreamer

Originally posted by wellcometothedarkside

“Dean, you need to calm down. You’re freakin’ everyone out here,” Sam grumbled, punching his brother’s shoulder. “It’s a plane, not the Titanic.”

“Planes can crash,” Dean countered. “The Titanic sunk, it’s possible that this metal thing could just blow up any second.”

A woman in front of Dean turned around, shooting him a glare as she tried to comfort her young son who was now about as freaked out as Dean. “Planes are built to fly. They always check them before they go up,” she stated matter-of-factly. The second she turned her back, Dean was mocking her. This time you punched his arm.

The plane hit a bit of turbulence in the air, and you grit your teeth when Dean’s nails sunk into your arm. “Release the death grip, my arm’s gonna fall off.” He sighed, unleashing your arm. “C’mon, let’s go see if we can get you some water.” You suggested, having had enough of Dean’s panic.

Keep reading

3

and yet again I try to draw cool shit but cant decide what to go with in the end

also dont let yourself be fooled by the art bc here’s what I think abt it: this can be fucking hilarious

so heres a list of hcs aka a list of things I might have to draw sometimes later bc its ass oclock rn and I gotta travel tomorrow but this is rly good AU why is organization-type AUs so good

Keep reading