and also if you didn't know

Nikola Tesla is the greatest b/c he loved pigeons and science and wanted to provide people with electricity at low cost but he was also lowkey trying to build a death beam. 

all this new short haired ladybug art has got me like *heart eyes*

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『  t h e  d e m o n  c y b o r g 』✧ for kris ! happy birthday !

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The Lizzie Bennet Diaries 5 Year Anniversary - My Name is Lizzie Bennet - Ep: 1 (April 9th 2012)

Who am I? I’m a 24 year old grad student with a mountain of student loans, living at home and preparing for a career.

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Hypothetical Handplates scenario in which Sans realizes he can teach himself Common.

(Ugh, tumblr is making them blurry for some reason so I guess full-view if you want the not-blurry version??)

Convoluted explanation incoming. Handplates is an Undertale fancomic by @zarla-s and if you like Papyrus and Sans, go read it, is good stuff. So I guess this is an AU fancomic of an AU fancomic? I dunno, the idea wouldn’t leave my brain until I did something with it. So. Zarla did a Christmas doodle where Gaster gave the boys a box of ginger cookies that had the word COOKIES on the side in big letters, and because my job gives me way too much time to think about random stuff, I realized something.

In Handplates, Gaster taught the bros to read and write Wingdings but deliberately did not teach them monster Common (ie: English) so they can’t read his nametag or anything. Thing is, Wingdings is a 1:1 substitution cipher for English. Every Wingdings symbol exactly equals an English letter; it’s not a different language, just a different set of pictures. As somebody who has taught herself a fair number of substitution ciphers, there are a few things you look for when you’re trying to translate a code and you don’t have a key in front of you. Most notably, single-letter words (in English they will usually be A or I) or double letters next to each other. Like the OO in “COOKIES”.

Sans is smart. Gaster has fed them junk food before and odds are good Sans knows how to spell “COOKIES”. The word is on the box in huge letters and Gaster just said it out loud, so it is fresh in Sans’ mind. That double-O is a huge tip-off. He would put it together that the word on the front of the box matches what’s inside. Once you figure out a few of the letters, it becomes steadily easier to decode the rest.

I feel like Gaster exposes the boys to enough Common (the nametag, food wrappers, computer monitors, the books Sans sits on) that Sans could pick it up with a proper starting point. Papyrus probably not, because he had a hard enough time with Wingdings, but Sans is eager for any opportunity to undermine Gaster and I’m sure he’d jump at the chance. In this comic he elects not to tell Papyrus, though. He doesn’t know Gaster has cameras in the cell (or even what a camera is) but he’s figured out that Gaster can spy on them somehow, and the last time Gaster caught them learning something he didn’t like, Papyrus got the ever-loving hell beat out of him. So Sans keeps quiet about it for now. And thus starts the long-standing tradition of keeping important secrets from his brother.

On the technical side, it took me a freakin’ week to sketch and outline this whole thing. Coloring and shading only took me like a day. In the meantime Zarla actually kinda addressed the cookie comic, but this was almost done by then so oh well. I’m finding my poses and proportions turn out a LOT better when I’m doodling skeletons, like what, drawing basic anatomy will make you better at anatomy, you don’t say?? A lot of this was a self-challenge to see if I could imitate Zarla’s art style, and I referenced previous Handplates comics a lot for the backgrounds and Sans’ face. Full disclosure: Gaster’s pose up there is basically copied from Zarla’s original comic because I was rushing through to get on to the actual meat of the story. He’s just here for setup. I had fun trying to figure out how to do his Lost Soul head though. Also, I hate Papyrus’ face from the front. Also also, it was tricky trying to convey “mentally translating an unknown alphabet into a known one” when pretty much everyone who sees this comic is already familiar with the “unknown” one and not the “known” one, but I think I pulled it off. 

TL;DR- I imitated somebody else’s style to do an AU of an AU; I am not Zarla; Zarla is the creator of Handplates and also Gaster’s pose in the first panel; I like ciphers too much and also I gave the cookies icing because that is the only kind of ginger cookie I know.

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Favorite relationships: Isak og Eskild
Where are you ↵
on my way home
I’m coming.

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My first piece for @bnhafest Check out the rest of the awesome fanart!

I#17 - Katsudeku - scars; “Wouldn’t change a thing.”


movement test!! still have some small things to fix yet but for the most part the animation meme’s coming along nicely!! :0

You know what the TF2 fandom needs more of?

More chubby Demoman.

Because I heard that he has a pudge.

S U P E R  S O F T  D E M O M A N

Castiel had always known how he felt about Dean. Somehow he’d always been able to conceal it.

Not anymore. Castiel feels like he’ll burst if he doesn’t just say it. He’s only human now, after all.

He does say it, eventually. He makes use of all the knowledge he’s acquired and tells Dean how he feels over and over again.

It’s in Danish the first time. “jeg elsker dig” he murmurs as he accepts his mug of coffee.

The second time is a few days later when they’re on a case related to an Arab painter. “أحبك,” Castiel says, not looking up from the book he’s poring over.

He ends up saying the phrase more times than he can count.

“Ez hej te dikim”

It is not always “three simple words”.

“मैं तुमसे प्यार करता हूँ”

And he never says it in the one language that matters, the one language that Dean would understand.

“دوستت دارم”

Castiel will only learn later that he has severely underestimated Dean. He will only learn later when, one day, Dean turns to him and says, “You know I love you too, right?”

For @abloodneed, one of the most amazing, beautiful men alive. Thank you for always being you.

There were certain things that Magnus feared. The loss of a loved one—his mind flashed to quick strides, dark hair and hazel eyes—, the loss of a friend—his breath caught at the image of dark eyes, dark hair streaked with grey, twin horns, and skin grown cold—, and the loss of his children—the downworlders he’d taken underneath his wings. His fingers dug into the oak coffee table, scouring the wood as his mind supplied him with images of everyone of them that he’d lost. Drawing in breath was hard, like he was suffocating, a direct contradiction to the cool breeze wafting into the outdoor patio of the mundane bar he’d decided to visit. Sometimes, he just needed that time to himself, amongst the mundanes that entertained him with how they scurried about in their daily lives, unaware of the world that existed in the shadows.

He did just that at the moment, watching them go about their lives when suddenly, everything… froze. From the waiter who had been heading to his table, to the lovers celebrating their recent engagement. Even the late night dog walker and her dog were frozen in place, her with a hand halfway up her hair, and the dog with his tongue half pulled into his mouth. As he took in the the sight, everyone frozen as far as he could he could see, and as he heard those footsteps, calm and unhurried, that oozing mass of power that would cower a lesser man, have them scurrying away or bending their heads in submission, Magnus came face to face with his biggest fear.

“Drinking alone,” a voice he’d heard only once in his life and had hoped he would never hear again wafted out to him, moments before the owner of the voice slid into the seat across from him. White suit—expensive as expected, stretched over a tall lanky form. “Now that doesn’t suit you Magnus,” he drawled as he casually shrugged off the jacket, undid the diamond studded cufflinks so he could roll up his sleeves and show off his forearms. Long lean fingers reached up to run through hair that was kept in place by the crown of barbed wire on his head. He waved his hands and men—shapeshifting demons, Magnus was sure—who’d accompanied him all gave them a wide berth.

“And how would you know what suits or doesn’t suit me,” Magnus tossed back as he reached for his glass of bourbon. “You don’t know me.”

The man grinned, teeth sharp in the moonlight. “Now, now Magnus. Why would you say that? Is that how you speak to your father?”

Magnus raised a brow and took a sip of his bourbon, eyes hard as he stared back at Asmodeus.

Keep reading

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stare through the mirror of the self, reflect the face of someone else (the bodyguard au) by bigchickcannibalistic

She’s leaning it. Red lips close – so tantalising close it’s fucking taunting her and it’s fucking unfair. So fucking unfair. Because her heart’s pounding, her hands are already on her hips and her throat is so dry it could be a fucking desert.

And it’s so fucking unfair because this is not how it’s supposed to go, and how can her body just betray her like that, just give in to temptation wrapped in a black dress and with positively thirsty eyes?