#me singing horribly

[hollis-art]

hoo boy! guess who's a guest on the muppet show :D !!

[flyingfabio]

tony arbolino behind the scenes, gp of the americas 2024 (x)

[skunkes]

had to babysit nephews for 4 hours and at the end i had them saying Yay and Yippee and things of this nature

[tyranno-solei-rex]

can we PLEASE bring Dr. Horrible's Sing Along Blog back?? someone needs to introduce the newest generation of weirdos to Dr. Horrible. it's got a lovesick mad scientist antihero, NPH pretending to be straight yet again, musical theater, cheap practical effects, an ending -- what more could a Tumblr user want??

[roukabi]

Everybody loves a winner

so nobody loved me

[heartsofminds]

and the songbirds are singing like they know the score - sneak peek

"Because doing what’s best for her is hard, and he realizes that when he can feel his friend wanting to put him through a wall over the phone." or Jake calls the landline at 11 PM on a Thursday because his goddaughter is wasted and Bradley is less than thrilled.

A/N: in light of me finishing my second to last semester of undergrad and my undying love for Bradley's precocious daughter from the halloween fic, i thought i would post a little preview of what i'm working on for them! love these characters more than life and def so excited for y'all to get to know them better soon.

No one ever calls the landline. Very few people even have the phone number for the landline outside of Maverick and a few close family friends. Besides, anyone who would need to reach you had your cell phone numbers anyway. 

So who the actual fuck is calling your landline at 11 PM on a Thursday night? 

You hear Bradley yank the phone from its place on the wall and exhale with a huff. After sixteen years of being together, you know that huff is his tell of being annoyed. 

“Hello?” he gruffly answers. His irritation makes the questions sound more like a monotonous statement. 

“Bradshaw –” 

Jake Seresin is on the other end of the line. You can recognize his voice from the other room with his cadence even though you’re not the one on the phone with him. Having “mom ears” does that to a person, you suppose. 

“Why the fuck are you calling my house at 11 PM?” Bradley snaps. 

You’re wondering the same thing, but you’ll have to talk to him about being so rude and huffy. Jake may actually need something, after all. 

“Well you weren’t answering your fucking cell and neither was your wife so I had to do something.” 

Bradley rolls his eyes and looks back into the darkened living room. He’s been more on edge about you lately. 

“You can’t miss me that fucking much to be spamming my phone with calls,” he sighs and leans his back up agaisnt the wall. He notices the open blinds on the back door and starts to walk to close them before he’s yanked back by the phone cord. 

“Don’t cream your pants. I don’t like you that much.” 

Bradley lets out a soft snort in amusement before he remembers that he’s supposed to be annoyed. He opens his mouth to ask Jake what exactly it is that’s so damn important and can’t wait until tomorrow morning when he’s beaten to it. 

“I have Quincy here in the passenger seat and she’s beyond unwell.” 

The statement sends Bradley into panic mode instantly. His voice catches in his throat and he can’t recall a moment he’s had where he’s felt like he’s had to force the breath out of himself like this. 

He lets out something between a huff, a cough, and a wheeze before remembering he can’t make a huge show of himself right now because it’ll also throw you into panic mode. 

“What the fuck do you mean she’s not well? Jake, where the fuck are you?” he whispers into the phone, trying to cover his mouth as much as possible so you can’t even read his lips if you tried. “Is she okay? What’s –” 

It doesn’t take a genius to know that Bradley is panicking. Even Bradley’s beyond intoxicated and passed out seventeen-year-old daughter sitting in the passenger seat of Jake’s truck could piece together that her father is nothing but a raging ball of anxiety at the moment, and Jake is positive that his friend is growing another patch of gray hair as the seconds pass. 

“Oh. . . fuck, I guess I should’ve phrased that better,” Jake admits. His truck comes to a halt at a spotlight and he glances over at his goddaughter. “She’s fine. She’s definitely drunk as shit right now, but I’m on the way to drop her at yours.”

Bradley can feel the obnoxious orange ball of anxiety inside of him shift to a tumultuous rage induced scarlett. His hand tightens around the cord of the phone and he has to stop himself before he yanks it out of the wall. He’s gotten angry like this before, but it never was angled toward his daughter. 

Never toward his sweet, precious girl. Never toward his amazing Quincy. 

But she knows the rules (and she chose to break them) and she knows what was told to her (and she snuck out anyway) and she knows that it’s dangerous to be that drunk (but yet she’s passed out in Jake’s truck). 

And if that isn’t both nerve-wracking and frustrating, Bradley doesn’t know what is. 

“Put her on the phone,” he speaks lowly. 

Jake gulps, knowing that he’s in one of those moods. Bradley doesn’t express anger as often as he expresses annoyance, but an angry Bradley is never someone he wants to be around. And from the way that Quincy made it sound when she called him to come get her from some random party in the middle of nowhere thirty five minutes away from her house at 11 PM on a school night, he knows her ass is being had tomorrow morning by both you and Bradley. 

There’s absolutely no way his goddaughter is coming out of this unscathed. 

“Dude, she’s obliterated right now and I think you talking to her is just gonna make it worse.” 

“And I don’t give a fuck. I said, put her on the fucking phone now.” 

Jake shakes his head and rolls his eyes as Quincy begins to stir next to him in her seat. He’s always been the person she’s called whenever she was in trouble. He always got the first hug whenever she was brought around. He’s always been her source of comfort outside of her parents and he’s never minded it because being around her is easy. 

It was easy to carry her around whenever she asked when she was little. It was easy to give in and let her sit in the cockpit of his grounded aircraft with him and let her play with the buttons when her dad and Papa Mav refused. It was easy to pick her up from school mid-day and take her to lunch. It was easy to bring her back gifts from whenever he was deployed and even easier picking them out because she’s a sucker for meaningless trinkets. 

It was easy to be her godfather and she’s a smart and relatively easy kid, but Jake has never been prepared for this part. 

Because doing what’s best for her is hard, and he realizes that when he can feel his friend wanting to put him through a wall over the phone. 

“No,” he speaks and he can hear Bradley let out a small gasp at the denial of his request, “She fucked up bad, Bradley. I’m sure she knows and you can have it out with her tomorrow morning, but right now, she’s not in any place to be screamed at and made to feel worse. You’re her dad and m’not tryin’ to take that away from you –” 

Bradley scoffs, “What exactly do you fuckin’ know about raising kids, Jake? Huh?” 

Jake grimaces and decides to take the brute of Bradley’s anger. Better him than Quincy, he figures. Besides, he knows Bradley doesn’t mean any of it. . . At least he hopes he doesn’t. 

“You obviously can’t be a dad because you just wanna have fun and dick around all the fucking time. Buying them fuckin’ candy and letting them off scott-free doesn’t do shit. You don’t have what it takes to raise a fucking person.” 

Jake doesn’t know why, but part of him starts to get that prickly feeling in his chest. Usually, every insult rolls off his shoulders into oblivion and he gets off on making people angry and being able to put on the facade that he really couldn’t give a damn if he tried.

But this one hurts because he knows that Bradley is right in some regard. 

He’s a runner and he lets people down. He’s nearing fifty (and God, he never thought he ever would) and has never even bothered to settle down. And he’s made the peace with himself a long time ago that he doesn’t deserve a wife or a family or kids because he would never be able to love them more than he loves himself; more than he loves his career. 

To hear one of your closest friends admit that to you openly, to know that someone outside of you sees it too, makes his heart stop momentarily and forces him to feel the ache of the words meant to stab him in the chest. 

“I understand,” he swallows. He knows arguing with Bradley isn’t the right thing to do at the moment and never will be. “I’m still not putting her on the phone. We will be at your house shortly.” 

The line goes dead and Bradley is overcome with a wave of anger that drowns him like a tsunami. He knows what he said was shitty and that he has no right to do that to someone who he considers a close friend, but he just can’t help himself. 

He knows no allies when it comes to his daughter. 

[artmolonara]

A collection of random characters that I doodled a while ago.

If you like my work, please consider donating or commissioning me on Ko-Fi via the link below.

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[inkspottie]

Idk if people understand how batshit insane you are

DAILY UPDATES WORTH AROUND 5K WORDS EACH???

AND ON TOP OF THAT... GORGEOUS DRAWINGS ON EACH CHAPTER??????

Idk how you keep this schedule up and I'm so impressed holy carp

You're awesomesauce and you cant change my mind on that

-🐟

When the hyperfixation is so strong you just feel like you’re on a train with no breaks

[bumblingbabooshka]

Voyager plotline in which The Doctor, Seven, Tuvok, and Neelix have to become a barbershop quartet in order to save the crew. With the little outfits and everything. (Harry's providing the music)

[sciderman]

Hi, I would love to ask more in the "ask blog", I just need to know, what are the current events that are going on?

Are they still on the plot on St Valentin, or is the theme with Harry the main conflict?

the main theme in the blog is whatever you ask about ! that do be how it works

[activate-shadow-of-the-window]

Brain gave me the dumbest, most amazing pun ever.

I’m a technical theater person for fun and volunteer hour reasons, one of the creatures that run around backstage making plays and musicals run, and I got my start by diving in the deep end by mic wrangling a musical.

Technical theater people are called crew, making up one third of the trifecta of cast (actors), crew (tech), and pit (orchestra for live music) that create musicals.

I do this at my school and have two years in a row. I’m a veteran of the mic crew for musicals.

Mic crew.

Mike Crew.

Behold how TMA warps the brain

[maomao9jinshi]

conan

Gosho: Aight just sing your own song horribly wrong

Minami: wh

Gosho: you heard me 😂😂😂

[lemonisntreal]

Lord help me I actually hate drawing him rn

Sorry for being traumatized ;w;

[real-odark]

oceans doodles cause i am trying to break the motivation bump

[domochan]

i wish i had the patience to figure out how to make music w vocaloids and utauloids an liek those online instruments programs id literally be so good at it

[wolfsong-the-bloody-beast]

They believe you’re the Herald because they need to. Without that hope, all that’s left is despair. We’re both bound by duty. Our lives aren’t ours to live. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.