it was an elaborate imagination man

man imagine aliens w no concept of interspecies cooperation or pets

‘commander the scan of this shelter reveals three primary lifeforms’

'excellent. elaborate please’

'all mammals. two quadrupeds, one feline and one canine, as well as one biped sapien. they appear to be… relaxing and eating in a shared space’

'what the fuck’

I Understand

Originally posted by painfulblisss

Pairing: Ivar X Reader

Word Count: 1400

Warnings: none that I can really think of, the dirty do is very implied tho, I hope it’s still to your liking!

@cutiepiepotatoes request: 


Whether its five minutes or a few seconds, you and Ivar always dissolve into fights furious enough to shake the walls. Despite that, it’s rare for a certain unspoken line to be crossed. That is until Aslaug locks you two in a room to sort out your near non-existent differences, only to frustrate you both to a boiling point of honesty.


“If you are going to act like children then you will be punished like children.” Aslaug chimed through the door. You yanked on the locked handle, a flash of anger igniting higher when the only other person in the small room with you shouted in an equal fury.

“Mother this is ridiculous! Open the door!”

She was toying with you both, stroking the already double inferno of rage locked safely behind the door. Queen Aslaug always bore a smile in your company, though you weren’t sure why. Not that you two didn’t get along or shared many interests, but whenever you and your family came to visit, Hel broke loose. Something that entertained Aslaug endlessly. But it was a bit strange given it involved her youngest and favored son, you and Ivar spitting venom at each other whenever in the same room for five minutes.

Even now you could hear the smile in her words. “I am going for a walk. Hope you two decide to be well behaved by the time I get back.”

Both you and Ivar called, begging and fighting for a release from each others presence. A silence came waiting for her response and you both slumped realizing she was already gone. In a last fit you kicked the door, crossing your arms pouting and refusing to turn around and face Ivar. “This is your fault.”

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If marathons exist for people to prove that they’re intrinsically better than you, ultramarathons exist to shame you for drawing the same air as their participants. And Australia’s Westfield Sydney to Melbourne Ultramarathon is the pinnacle. The event consisted of a 544-mile run – we’d give up on driving that – across brutal and unforgiving territory. So imagine everyone’s surprise back in 1983, when a 61-year-old potato farmer named Cliff Young lined up right alongside the strapping young gods and goddesses that normally go in for this sort of thing. Literally toothless, dressed in gumboots and long trousers, he ran in a weird old-man shuffle. Cliff further revealed that he was a virgin who still lived with his mom – as though that needed elaborating.

By the end of day two, Cliff was not only markedly less dead than everyone expected, but had a sizeable lead on his competitors. This was largely due to his coach/insane friend Wally Zeuschner who, after an exhausting first day of running, accidentally set Cliff’s alarm clock for 2AM. For the remainder of the race, Wally was right there, informing Cliff that sleep was for pussies, and hacking off foot blisters with a rabbit knife. When Cliff shuffled his way into Melbourne, he wasn’t just ahead of his competitors – he was miles and miles ahead, having knocked a good two goddamned days off the previous record for the course.

5 People Who Ruled At Things They Had No Right to Even Try

41. “I came to this city to mend my broken heart. Never imagined I would find you to help me piece it back together.“

The room was filled with familiar faces. The music that was playing was a little before your time but you enjoyed it nonetheless. Tony Stark was throwing yet another elaborate party for a reason unbeknownst to you. The man just loved to have parties for no reason.

You stood idly by, not really feeling like mingling. You were content with drinking the expensive champagne that Tony sprung for and people watching.

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The Shooting Star

A/N: Oh boy, here we go. This is my first entry one-shot for @doodledrawsthings human bill AU (which they helped edit and illustrate). For those not familiar, it’s an AU based on the Flat Dreams lore by @pengychan, basically a “what-if” scenario of Bill coming back during the Pines Twins second summer in Gravity Falls. If you’re unfamiliar with it, CHECK OUT THEIR PAGE. WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH YOUR LIFE. Hope you enjoy this one.

part 2

part 3

“And this is the time DipDop and I were voted Best Dynamic Duo! Man, I can’t imagine not having my bro to count on!”

“Can we do something else.”

“Nope!”

The occupant of the kitchen chair groaned loudly, burying his face in his arms. “Tell me, Shooting Star, is TORTURING ME with POINTLESS HUMAN SENTIMENTS glued onto pieces of colorful paper some kinda elaborate revenge scheme you’re executing?”

“First, they’re not pointless. I’ll have you know I worked very hard on each of them! And second-” Mabel jumped up from her chair and smacked Bill lightly across the face. The demon recoiled with an half-annoyed half-startled snarl. “You’re being a jerk! So you get a frowny-face sticker.”

Bill slowly pried said sticker off his cheek, slowly ripped it in half with a disturbing satisfaction, and tossed the remaining pieces on the floor, his eyes never leaving Mabel’s. The demon silently got up, fixing the girl with a sneer before turning to leave. Well, that could have gone better.

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Josh Dun Imagine

this was kinda a request, I just elaborated and added a bit more.  Idk how I feel about this one, but I hope you guys like it!!

The Man Across The Street

The sun shone heavily on your back causing warmth to spread through your entire body.  It felt nice after spending eight hours in your air conditioned office space on the twelfth floor.  You gripped your briefcase tightly in one hand and stretched your neck side to side before settling in a consistent stride.  

You focused on the ground in front of you, watching as your shadow mimicked your poor posture and flat feet, until something else caught your eye.  

The man across the street walked at an almost identical pace.  You recognized him immediately as the guy who held the elevator door for you just minutes prior.  You’d seen him around the building other times, as well; in the hallways, on the stairs, by the coffee bar on the main floor. That bright pink hair was painstakingly recognizable.  

You pretended to ignore him the entire way home, only throwing glances out of the corner of your eye, until you stopped in front of your building.  You watched for a moment as he continued down the street, one hand in his pocket, the other clutching a beige bag, never looking up from his feet.  

- - - - - -

The cool autumn air gave rise to goosebumps all over your body.  You wrapped your sweater around yourself tighter and continued down the cobblestone sidewalk.  You kept your head up, marveling at the infinite shades of golds and reds that had taken over the city.  

Leaves crunched under your flats, making an auditory note of every step you took. It covered up the sound of your breathing, which had grown heavier from the cold air shocking your system.

The man across the street paid no attention to the crunching leaves beneath his feet.  You watched briefly as he kicked a few of them around before continuing on his way.

His hair matched the pink sunset overhead, bright and bold and beautiful.  

It was the last thing you noticed before walking into your apartment for the night.

- - - - - -

Heavy snow fell from the sky.  The street lamps lit up the sidewalk, illuminating the thousands of large flakes around you.  You made a mental note to start wearing heavier boots to work for nights like this.  

You tucked your gloved hands underneath each of your armpits and trudged home, trying to pay attention to each step you took so as not to fall.

The man across the street had a scarf, hat, and mittens on.  You were jealous of how prepared he seemed to be for this snow storm.  You made another mental note for yourself to start checking the weather before leaving for work each morning.

The man walked faster than you.  His winter boots clearly had better traction than your dressy ones.  As he got further ahead, you noticed the back of his hair poking out.  Except, it wasn’t pink, it was yellow.  

You trudged on and used it as your guiding light through the storm the whole way home.

- - - - - -

Spring had always been your least favorite season.  Snow and ice melted with no boundaries, leaving traces of mud all over the sidewalk.  You stomped your bulky boots through scummy puddles and tried not to splash remnants of it everywhere.  

It wasn’t dark yet, which made you feel hopeful that this dirty weather wouldn’t be around for long.  

The man across the street walked without a hat for the first time in months.  You smiled seeing his yellow hair in full for the first time.  It was bright and flashy.  The kind of thing that demanded attention.  It reminded you of blooming flowers and sunshine, infinite growth and beauty.  

You walked home, your strides aligned once again.  And as the sound of snow melting from building tops covered up the sound of your boot’s heavy stomps, you couldn’t help but notice his bright hair out of the corner of your eye the entire way home.  

- - - - - -

The first thing you noticed upon leaving work was how freeing it felt to be outside once again without a heavy jacket weighing you down.  You had brought one, just in case, but it lingered in your arms, unneeded and more of a burden than anything as you started your walk home.  Summer was just visible in the horizon, but the weather still fluctuated between sunny and warm and breezy and cool, so it was impossible to ever be fully prepared.

The second thing you noticed upon leaving work was that the man across the street wasn’t there.

He’d been particularly easy to spot in the last few months with his yellow hair, but as you scanned the other side of the road, up and down, he was no where to be found.  Your heart sunk a little, which surprised you.  But you justified your disappointment as normal.  He had become a part of your routine, just like eating a peanut butter and fluff sandwich everyday was.  Your heart would sink if you opened your lunchbox to bologna, just as it did in the man’s absence.  Nothing strange or unusual about being effected by a disrupted routine.  

You frowned slightly before deciding it was time to head home.  You walked for less than a minute before you heard rapid footsteps behind you and felt someone grip your elbow.

“Hi honey, how was your day?” A man’s voice asked.

You instinctively tried to jerk your arm away, but the grip was too strong.  When you turned to look at who was grabbing you, you were shocked to see the man with yellow hair.  

He leans down, close enough so that you can smell him, and whispers in your ear, “Someone’s following you.”

Once he’s confident you’re not going to shove him away, the man loops his arm with yours, leading you down the road en route to your apartment.   He casts a couple glances over his shoulder, subtly trying to see if the person following you had gone.  On his second glance, he sighs a breathe of relief and loosens his grip on your arm.

“He turned around.”

You automatically let go of his arm.

“Who was it?” you ask.

“I didn’t recognize him, which is what made me nervous… I’d never seen him before.”

You nod, exhaling the anxiety that had been building up inside of you.  “Well, thanks. I appreciate it”

You were relieved to see you apartment building just over the hill.  You didn’t feel much like walking alone the rest of the night.

The man nodded and extended his hand, “I’m Josh, by the way.”

You smiled, taking his hand in yours and shaking it, “Y/N.” you introduced.  

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” he grinned.  

You thought about his comment later that night as you laid in bed.  You found yourself wondering if Josh had noticed your presence on the opposite side of the street as much as you’d noticed his.  

- - - - - -

You felt slightly paranoid walking home the next day.  You immediately noticed Josh across the way, which felt increasingly comforting, but you couldn’t help feel like someone was lingering behind you as you made your walk down the sidewalk.  

You kept casting glances towards Josh.  You found yourself wondering things about him, like which floor he worked on or what his inspiration for his sporadic hair colors were.  Every time you would gaze for too long, he’d glance over and you’d quickly look away in response.  You really had to work on your staring problem.  

After three different occasions of awkward eye contact with Josh, you watched out of the corner of your eye as he looked both ways, then started jogging across the street.  

“Hey,” he called, as he hurried to catch up to you.  You stopped, of course, baffled and unsure as to whether or not he was talking to you.  “Mind if I walk with you?”

You froze then, wondering immediately if the same person was following you again.  

Josh noticed the fear on your face and put his hands up, “It’s okay to say no…” he says.

You lower your voice and try to whisper loud enough for just him to hear, “Are they following me again?”

“What?” Josh asks, confused momentarily before understanding what you were referencing, “Oh… no! No, no.  I just thought maybe we could walk together tonight.”

You sigh a breathe of relief before smiling, “Yeah, that would be really nice.  I’d like that.”

The two of you walked, side-by-side, step-by-step, all the way home.  

You asked about his hair.  The burning thought that had been on your mind for so long was finally set free.  It turns out, Josh was bored by routines, but his hair was one thing he could be spontaneous about.  The pink was an after-effect of a wild red.  The yellow brightened his gloomy winter.

“What color is next?” you had asked.  

“Only time will tell,” he says, his eyes shimmering.

Josh walked you right up to your apartment door before saying goodbye.  You were so intrigued by everything he had to say, and had to admit you were disappointed to be at your doorstep.  It was the first time you’d ever wished your walk home was longer.  

- - - - - -

Every day in the weeks to follow, Josh was waiting outside of the building by the time you got out of work.  His face always breaks into the same, huge smile when he sees you walking through the double doors, and you can never help but reciprocate.  

You talk the entire way home, learning about each other.  Likes, dislikes, pet peeves, funny childhood stories.  Josh was a man of infinite laughter and curiosity.  You looked forward to walking home with him daily.  It was, often times, what got you through until five o’clock.  

“How was work?” he asks, one evening, extending his arm for you to take.

You’re surprised by his gesture, but ultimately flattered.  You latch on, and start walking with him down the cobblestone.

“It was long,” you respond. “How was yours?”

“Also long, equally boring.  Why do we work these jobs?” he asks.

You shrug, “Gotta pay rent I guess.”

“I’m serious though— I mean.  I hate my job, I don’t get why I do it.”  

He’s silent for a moment, like he’s thinking hard.  “What would you do—“ he finally says, “if you didn’t have to worry about rent or bills?  If you could do anything?”

You furrow your brow, thinking about his question, “I suppose I’d travel.”

“Where?”

“Europe, I think.”

“Have you ever been?”

You shake your head.  “No, I mean, I have work…”

“I think that’s a crime.”

You frown, “What do you mean?”

“That’s your dream, right?  To go to Europe.   And you’ve never been because of some dumb job you don’t even like.”

“Yeah,” you agree, “But I have responsibilities.  I’m committed to my job.  People count on me.”

“To what? Fax papers for them?  It doesn’t really mean anything.  Neither of our jobs do.”

You frown at Josh’s remark, offended by his blunt tone.

“I don’t understand what you’re getting at,” you say honestly.

He shakes his head, “Nothing.  I’m just… bored.”

The two of you walk the rest of the way in silence.

- - - - - -

Josh isn’t waiting for you the next day.  He’s not across the street either.  

You walk the entirety of the way home without any pinks or yellows to brighten your day.

You hate how much it bothers you.

- - - - - -

You accept Josh’s outstretched arm, “Where were you yesterday?” you ask.

“Just a personal day,” he says.  “Stayed home.”

“Oh… Well, I missed you.”

“Aw, you flatter me.”

“I mean it!” you say, “Walking home with you is my favorite part of the day.”

Josh stiffens beside you.  You try to gage what he’s thinking by his face, but it’s too stoic.  

“See?” he says, “How pathetic is it that a walk home with me is the highlight of your day?”

That was definitely not the reaction you were hoping for.  You let go of his arm and step away from him.  

You can’t really think of a response or defense, but it was clear that Josh didn’t feel the same way.  

“Your life is boring.  Just admit it!  It has no meaning behind it.  No passion.  You do the same thing everyday, hoping that eventually, you’ll be happy.  Or satisfied, or whatever it is.  But you’re lying to yourself.”

“You don’t know anything about my life,” you say back sharply.  “I like my job, and I like my life, just the way it is.  Not all of us need radical hair colors and spontaneous life choices to be happy.  Get off your high horse and don’t pretend like you know what’s good for me.”  

Josh bites his lip, but has no response, so instead, you shake your head before picking up your pace, leaving him behind.

You ignore him as he calls after you.

- - - - - -

You make an effort to rush out of the building the next day, hopeful that you won’t run into Josh.  Luckily, you’re out a solid ten minutes quicker than usual, and by the time you’re turning the corner on the cobblestone steps, he’s nowhere to be seen.  


You walk the whole way home alone.  

- - - - - -

This pattern continues until Friday when you’re forced to stay until five o’clock on the dot.  You try not to think about seeing Josh outside as you ride the elevator down to the main floor, but as soon as you push through the double doors and look to the street, you see him.  If he hadn’t been standing right by the lamp pole, you probably wouldn’t have recognized him.  His hair was no longer bright or flashy.  Instead, it was dulled down to an off-brown color.  It didn’t catch your attention by any means and you frowned at the sight of it.  

You almost skipped right over to him, before you remembered that you were mad for insulting your “boring life”.  You huffed a little before walking down the steps and turning the corner, hoping to avoid his attention.

You should be so lucky,

“Hey!” he calls, rushing up behind you.

You ignore him and keep walking.

“Wait up!” he hollers.  “Y/N, stop!”

“What do you want, Josh?” you snap, whipping around to face him.

He stops dead in his tracks, clearly taken aback by your harsh tone.  The look on his face makes you feel slightly guilty for being to abrupt, but you hold your ground.

He scratches the back of his neck, looking anxious.  He takes a deep breath before speaking.

“I just wanted to say goodbye.”

Your angry frown turns to confusion as his words sink in.

“Goodbye?” you ask, your tone civil again.

“Yeah, I quit.”

“You what?” you gasp.

“I quit my job.  Just now actually.”

“Wh— what?  Why?” you sputter.

“The only thing keeping me going, was the idea that everyone else was just as miserable as I was doing what I did.  But not you.  You’re happy.  And you were right… I shouldn’t have judged you.  I was wrong to assume that everyone was as depressed as me.  But… I just.. It made me realize that I needed to get the hell out of here.”

You listen to his words, letting it sink in that he truly meant it.  He was leaving.  You shouldn’t be as upset as you were.  Selfishly, you were mourning the infinite number of walks you thought the two of you had in the future.  But hearing Josh admit to his misery made you logically ignore the voice in your head begging him to stay and instead ask him a question.

“What happened to your hair?”

He smiles, looking up to his forehead, as if he could see it in his peripherals.

“I don’t need interesting hair anymore, cause I’m going to have an interesting life.”

- - - - - -

Summer fades fast and the warm, humid air is replaced by a brisk breeze.  You crossed your arms across your chest and shivered as the night set in.  You were grateful to be wearing a hat on top of your head and a scarf around your neck.  You let your eyes scan your surroundings, marveling at the infinite shades of golds and reds that had once again, taken over the city.  

Leaves fell, crunching and blowing every which way, as autumn swept through, clearing out the old and making room for the new.  

You stopped dead in your tracks at the turn with the cobblestone steps and gazed adoringly at the melted sunset in the horizon.  The pouring pinks and blistering yellows caught your eye, reminding you of the man across the street and being your guiding light all the way home.  

I’ve been scrolling around on the Alexander the great tag on Tumblr and there are all these posts where people are writing about how they just want to KNOW him, to meet him, to really know what he was like. And it’s not just idle curiosity, there’s a feeling of connection, of longing, that I can relate to and really GET. Alex does something to you.
So sooner or later in these posts someone brings up reincarnation. Maybe we did know him. Maybe we met him. Maybe we fought beside him in another life.

So let’s, for the sake of argument, assume that reincarnation is literally real.

Think about the size of Alexander’s army. At gaugemela the army was about 47,000 in number. And that’s not the highest it ever was. Think about all the men who died, and were replaced, who came later in the campaign, who were dropped off to colonize a new city. Then add to that the number of camp followers: wives , children, slaves, cooks, merchants, carpenters, tailors, metal workers, that needed to follow and interact with this army to make it run.

Now imagine the size of Darius’s army. High estimates say there were 100,000 troops at gaugemela alone. Add to that the size of the opposing army of every battle this man fought. Then add THEIR camp followers, and remember that Persians travelled with even larger and more elaborate entourages.

Now think of the size of the Persian court. Darius’s family, advisors, generals, servants, and courtiers. And then add every small city, state and citadel Alex conquered and passed through. Their nobility, peasants, servants and slaves.

Now add the population of every Greek city state he passed through as well.

And finally, add the population of Pella, a small town on a hill side, nowhere in particular, finally finding its place on the world stage. It was not as big as it would be under Cassander’s reign, it was likely most of the citizens would have interacted with Alex personally at some point. These would have been the people he knew best, cared about, loved.

Alexander interacted with so many people during his short life. We know he was a very hands on king and general who knew the names of many of his men. It is likely he exchanged words at least once with a sizable percentage of this number but even if he did not, think of how many people knew of him, who were affected by him and all he did. Who fought him, who feared him, who finally saw him coming and ,in many cases, realized he wasn’t the monster they had been warned about

Think of how many people would have wanted to know him, to understand him, to meet him, and how many did. And realize that in this number there is room for you. In fact, it is statistically likely.

How big is an army? How big is an empire?

Alexander the great ruled through love. He thrived on it. He needed it, the love of his men, his people, his country. I think, if he too is out there somewhere, he’d be amused, flattered, and somewhat humbled by all the love he still gets. He’d probably want to know us all too. That’s just the kind of man he was.

Habits || Jack Maynard

Originally posted by myalwaysari

Requests are currently [ OPEN ]

Masterlist can be found [ HERE ]

Word Count: 1.1k+

Summary: In which a meal out with her best friends may lead to something a little more. 

Dedicated too: Lana Del Rey, for bringing me inspiration when nobody else can xo




“Come on, we need to leave,” (Y/N) whines as she stands beside the front door, checking the time on her phone and sighing, tapping her foot against the floor impatiently. “Conor, hurry up!”

“Alright, keep your panties on.” He chuckles, shrugging on his bomber jacket and throwing one of his spares at her once he saw what she was wearing. “Put that on. You’ll freeze your ass off in that dress.” She rolls her eyes and folds her arms across her chest, raising her eyebrows and throwing him a pointed look. He coughs and glances down at his watch with an apologetic shrug. “Right, yeah. Sorry for taking so long.”

She laughs and shakes her head, opening the door after equipping the oversized jacket and motioning to it with her hand. “Fuck gender roles, gentlemen first.”

He playfully swoons, strutting out into the hall and glancing back at her over his shoulder dramatically, causing her to giggle as she walked out and locked up. He whistles lowly as his eyes trail down her body, the bomber jacket only coming a few inches down her thigh and the dress barely covering much more. “I see tonight is a leg night.”

“It could be worse.” She smirks, threading her arm through his as they walked through the hallway and toward the stairs that lead to the buildings main exit. He looks down in confusion, and so she elaborates. “I bought this new set of underwear yesterday, and honestly, I considered wearing them under that huge faux fur coat I have: like the women in the movies do.”

He throws his head back and laughs, the image of his bestfriend in nothing but an outrageously obnoxious fur coat in Central London on a Saturday night too amusing to not imagine. “You mean the women who want to seduce their men?” He asks, and she nods silently as they walk through the double doors and out into the dark street. “But in order to seduce your man, don’t you actually have to have- oh I don’t know, have a man, who’s yours?”

Groaning, she pushes him slightly but laughs at his comment nonetheless. He had a point, having a man to seduce in the first place would help her cause: but for now, her LBD and Conor’s bomber jacket seemed more appropriate than the fur coat and her underwear.

She pulls the jacket closer to her frame as they walked at least twenty yards before finding their Uber driver, who apologised continuously but explained how he’d gotten completely lost within the windy streets.

The warm interior of the car is greatly appreciated, especially when Conor pulled out his phone and began to make snapchat videos, tilting his phone toward her every now and then so that she could say her piece of simply make a funny face. By the time they reached the restaurant, she’d already counted out the cash and handed it to the polite driver with a smile.

She and Conor hang back for a while, making sure that they didn’t have any unanswered messages or emails that they needed to address before deciding that they were good to go. That was one out their routine procedures, after a messy night out had ended with two important business emails being ignored and nineteen calls from a very worried mother.

They walk into the restaurant with smiles imprinted not their faces, immediately laying eyes on their friends who all looked up from the menu’s one after the other. (Y/N) unhook: her arm from Conor’s and greets them all with a wide smile, overjoyed to be in the company of her best friends after a week of having to socialise with people whom she really had no interest in at all.

Eventually she sits down, with Jack on her left and Mikey on her right, both boys pointing out meals that they’d had before and recommended. The names were all foreign to her, and she scrunched up her nose and shook her head after each suggestion, instead deciding to stick with her tried and trusted chicken and avocado house salad.

She notices the camera in Joe’s hand the moment he lifts it up off of the table and points it toward her. He laughs and moves it between herself and Conor with a cheeky tut. “Look who decided to join us, late as always!”

She gasps and throws a crouton at him, looking over at Conor and narrowing her eyes at him. “Well, Mr Maynard, are you gonna tell them why we’re late or am I gonna have to do it for you?” When he rolls his eyes and looks away innocently, she laughs and turns back to face Joe with a wink. “Let’s just say, someone has to sing atleast five songs in the shower before even considering getting out.”

Jack snorts, causing (Y/N) to turn toward him and watch as he smirks and glances toward his older brother with his eyebrows raised. “I can’t believe you still have to do that.” He shakes his head and takes a sip of his beer. “Used to take us hours to get ready for school because that little shit would refuse to get out of the shower when mum told him too.”

“My older sister used to have to eat half of a bowl of one cereal, and then use a different bowl with another half a bowl of different cereal. My mum used to say she could only do things in halves.” (Y/N) vocalises, a slight smile on her face as she rests her elbows onto the table top and looks over at her bestfriend with a smug smile. “Con, you know you’re my ride or die, but your habits are fucking annoying.”

He lifts his hand to cover his heart in mock hurt, blowing her a sarcastic kiss before turning back to Josh and continuing to chat to him about god knows what.

She turns back to smile at Jack, but her expression falters when she sees small frown on his face. “What’s wrong?”

He blinks quickly and shakes his head. “Nothing- nothing. I guess I just understand why people ship you guys so much.”

If she hadn’t known him for so many years, she wouldn’t have caught the jealousy in his tone, but she had, and she did. She purses her lips to hide her smirk and leans in closely, resting her hand on his thigh and eying the rest of the table as she breathed against his neck. “You wanna know a secret?"He hums, resting his hand on her thigh just as she had his just seconds before. Breathing shallowly, she brushes the tip of her nose against his ear and smirks. "If I had to kiss a Maynard brother, I wouldn’t pick Conor.”

RFA + Minor Trio: Video Games

So I got bored, and being the Mystic Messenger obsessed game addict that I am, my mind wandered to wondering what sorts of video games the RFA would play, like types or genres and some examples (aside from LOLOL in Yoosung’s case of course lol), which led to making this headcanon post. Of course, these are all just my personal headcanons, and I would love to hear what thoughts you guys have for this subject! Sharing headcanons is fun~!! Sorry this got kinda long tho lol I guess I got carried away ^^;;;

Note: If you’re on the mobile app and only see Yoosung’s section, copy and paste the post’s URL into your mobile web browser. That should fix it~


💚YOOSUNG💚

  • Well we all know that he’s addicted to LOLOL, and probably plays or has tried other MMOs. As perfect as those are for him, I’m looking at other types of games for this. Otherwise it’s too easy lol
  • Plays RPGs and adventure games the most
  • When he can make a custom character, his preferred classes are knight or warrior classes, but he’s also open to playing as mages
  • Definitely the kind of player that picks up every. Single. Side quest. Because he wants to help everyone
  • Need a certain number of rarely dropped items? No problem!
  • Want to deliver an item to someone who’s not even a two minute walk away? He’s on it!
  • Got a super difficult optional boss that you want dead that can–and will–display the Game Over screen multiple times, and you’re offering a class-specific item he can’t use as a reward? Sign him the fuck up!
  • Unless they want something he doesn’t agree with… -gives Skyrim’s Blades the side-eye-
  • No matter how hard he tries, he just can’t bring himself to play the “asshole/aggressive character” style
  • “Sure, this assassin was hired by that one traitor who wants us dead, my party is totally against letting him live since he might try to kill us again, and we have absolutely no reason to trust him aside from his seemingly honest answers which he could have just fabricated to save himself, so logic seems to point at killing him to be safe…………buuuuuuuuuut he could be a helpful party member and then no one has to die!”
  • Also, he loves games that encourage interaction with other players!
  • “People think that you don’t get any friends if you play games… but you get tons!” TRUTH!!!
  • So yeah, games with interaction are great!
  • Honestly MMORPGs are fucking perfect for him and and that’s why he’s addicted to LOLOL! lol seriously dude game with me plz
  • Really likes Pokemon for the sense of community with trades and battles and such
  • Totally attempted to make a competitive team at some point
  • Whenever new games are announced, he and Seven figure out who gets what version so they can trade version exclusives and such
  • Can never beat Seven in a battle tho… The one rival battle he can never win T^T
  • Also this guy is a Kirby fan fight me on this

Keep reading

3

Imagine:

Being a part of the sideshow at Haly’s Circus and being good friends with Jerome Valeska.
•••

Performers skipped, jumped and danced between the vibrantly coloured tents while handing out free tickets to see the strong man. The locals were entranced by the sequinned costumes and elaborate makeup and were attracted to the circus like bugs to a bright light. They were charmed by the attentions of the people so strangely beautiful and bright.

It was your job to entertain them while they waited to be seated inside the big top. They ohed and awed as you greeted them with a unnatural turn of your body and a dazzling smile, all while keeping the hula hoops spinning around your body and the juggling balls in the air.

You thoroughly enjoyed your job. The star struck gazes of the children and the embarrassed looks on their parents faces when they failed to copy your seemingly simple tricks made it all worth while.

However, there were other things that kept you tied to the sideshow other than the Gothamite’s attention and one of them was your sweet, hyperactive ginger, Jerome Valeska.

2

Gif source:  Joker

Imagine meeting the Joker.

——— Request for anon ———

You’d heard the stories. Hell, he was infamous around Gotham, and here you were, meeting the Joker.

You didn’t know whether to be excited or terrified as you sat on the plush sofa you’d been escorted to by one of his men. Not that you showed either emotion on your outer appearance. After all, this was business.

It was his laugh that announced him, ghosting in from beyond the elaborate door and the guard standing in front of it, “Ha… Ha… Ha…” At the sound, the guard takes a single step to the side and the door opens, in striding the green-haired man you’d only ever seen in his mugshots. “My, apologies,” Joker says with dramatic flair, flashing you an insane grin that shows the glint of his teeth, “for keeping you waiting.”

You smirk as his shoes tap the floor with each of his steps towards you, an entourage of his men coming in behind him, “It was worth the wait.”

I don’t know about kings, but I’ll help you

A sequel to “A gift for a girl who no longer exists”. I just couldn’t leave Sansa that unhappy! So here is Jon brushing Sansa’s hair. :) This is a bit of a remix of one of the first chapters of a WIP. Thanks again to @dragonchristianlady97 for the lovely “Jon likes to brush Sansa’s hair” headcanon!

***

Sansa tried to be scrupulous about appearances. They mattered. She knew that better than most. The Lannisters had wrapped her in lions, complete with teeth and claws, the day she wed Tyrion. She’d worn her own dress emblazoned with a wolf when staring Ramsay down, and she’d drawn strength from it.

So she was angry she’d let her hair get away from her. The past week hadn’t given any of them a moment’s rest. A raven had come to Winterfell heralding the arrival of Daenerys Targaryen. Sansa heard whispers of the queen’s beauty, even this far north. She’d thought herself past vanity. Apparently she’d been mistaken. She was vain enough to want her hair to shine like burnished copper, as it had when her mother brushed it, so she could greet the queen with confidence. But late nights and early mornings had forced her to braid her hair quickly, to keep it out of the way of the maps spread out hastily in Winterfell’s great hall.

Now it was tangled, hopelessly, in the back. She was standing, scowling at her reflection. I don’t have time for this.

She heard a knock at the door. “Sansa, it’s Jon. May I come in?” She almost turned him away. But the news he carried could be important, and she couldn’t shut herself in her room forever.

“Yes, come in please, Jon.” He closed the door, cutting off the colder air from the hallway. Sansa cursed as the brush got stuck once again. Jon seemed shocked. She’d probably never cursed in front of him before.

“Sansa, what’s wrong?”

Sansa was too tired to lie. She’d have to tell him. She sighed, setting the brush down. “Jon, promise, please, not to laugh.” Jon looked about as far away from laughing as possible, but then again, he usually looked solemn. “I won’t, Sansa.”

“It’s-“ Sansa gestured fruitlessly to the back of her head. “My hair, Jon, it’s tangled, and I can’t brush through it. And no, I can’t ask a lady’s maid for help, I can’t ask anyone for help, because I can’t let them-“

Jon strode across the room, and his arms were around her before she could get out the rest of the warning. Sansa stiffened, and Jon loosened his grip, ready to release her. He felt…good, warm and solid, and Sansa focused on her breathing. He won’t hurt me. He won’t. She gathered up her courage and leaned into him. Jon held her a little tighter, and waited. She sensed he was ready to stand there all night, even all week.

“Sansa, you don’t have to explain.” Jon’s voice was low, and soft, and she could feel his words reverberate in his chest. She held on to his shirt with one hand. “I just – if there’s anything I can do, to help you, please tell me.”

Sansa focused on the feel of Jon’s stubble against her cheek, and the scent of leather that clung to him. Maybe she could make a jest, to get out the mess she’d found herself in. “Do kings brush hair?”

Jon tilted his ear towards her. “Hm?” She couldn’t blame him. She’d spoken directly into the fabric of his shirt. She pulled back, and tried for lightness. “Kings. Do they brush hair?”

She waited for a hint of a smile. Instead Jon held her gaze, his eyes dark and serious. “I don’t know about kings, Sansa, but I’d try, if you wanted.”

Sansa didn’t trust herself to speak just then, so she reached for the silver brush on her table. Her hand shook slightly. She held it out to him. Jon took the handle from her. He still hadn’t let her go, and Sansa found she didn’t want him to. She felt safe, and wished she could keep him here, in her chambers. That thought led to other half-suppressed feelings she knew she had to ignore, so she turned, and sat.

Jon was at a loss, but determined. He cleared his throat. “Is it better if I stand?”

“It’s easier if you sit in a chair behind me.”

“I saw your mother and you like that, once.” Jon pulled up a chair behind her. He was quiet, which was a blessing. Sansa expected the large knots in her hair were intimidating. She was about to give Jon some advice, to tell him he might have to start with his fingers, when he made quick work of the first tangles. She looked at him in the mirror, surprised. “Have you done this before, Jon?”

Jon shrugged. “I brushed horses at the Wall,” he said, and then shut his eyes. “I can’t believe I just said that out loud.” Sansa was speechless. The chagrin on Jon’s face was too much, and Sansa couldn’t help a small laugh at his expense.

She covered her mouth, chastened. “I’m sorry, Jon, that was unkind.”

“No, it’s all right. It’s…I’m glad to hear you laugh.” The corner of Jon’s mouth turned up, and he kept working. “Your hair’s so fine, anyway,” he said gently, “the knots come out easily.” Sansa knew he wasn’t telling the whole truth. The tangled mess was challenging, but Jon was patient. Soon Sansa closed her eyes, tilting her head back. It was such a luxury, to have someone do this for her. It was such a luxury not to flinch at someone’s touch. She heard his chair scrape against the floor to get a bit closer. She felt his fingertips at her temple, lightly, at the beginning of each stroke through her hair.

“Is this too hard?”

“No, Jon, you’re gentler than mother was.” She yawned, and dimly realized he’d not told her where he needed to be next. 

***

When she woke the room was dim. The sun had almost set. She could feel Jon’s presence behind her. “How long was I asleep?”

“Not that long.”

He was a terrible liar. “Jon, the sun’s gone down, it’s been at least a few hours. Were you here, the whole time?”

“Aye I didn’t - you looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Sansa.”

“How did you get out that one huge knot in the back?” She couldn’t believe she’d slept through that.

“I just…concentrated,” he said, and something in his tone made her shiver. “Do you need me to braid it? You’d have to show me, it always looks so intricate, around your head, small braids and large ones.” His forehead creased. A man ready to lead an army to war, flummoxed at the thought of dressing a woman’s hair. She could only imagine what he would have made of the elaborate styles she’d worn back when she thought Cersei Lannister was the height of grace and beauty.

Sansa did want his help, and soon. She wanted to wear his gift, the hairnet he’d given her. But this wasn’t the time. “No, you’d better go, I’m sure Davos and Tormund are wondering where you are by now.” He looked at her in confusion and she sighed, inwardly. Think, Jon, you spent hours in your sister’s bedroom, unplanned, people see, they talk. He got up with a strange reluctance and paused at the door.

“Good night, Sansa.”

“Good night, Jon.” Her hair flowed like silk as pulled it over one shoulder. She looked down at the silver brush on the table. There was barely a strand caught in it. She wouldn’t have been half so careful herself. Sansa braided her hair back to keep it from tangling again while she slept and threw two extra logs on for light and warmth. She slept well, and long, that night, dreaming of copper and fire and Jon’s dark eyes.

Au where Jean, Marco, Connie, Armin, Bertholdt, Reiner, and Eren go shopping. The song ‘I’m too sexy’ by Right Said Fred starts to play and they start to put on sunglasses doing the catwalk and sexy dances in every aisle because they’re all sexy dorks and they know they’re too sexy.

Fooled Around and Fell in Love (Star-Lord Fluff)

As requested by anon: Your last imagine was great! Can you write a peter quill fluff imagine where he does all these elaborate things to prove that he loves you? (non-smut)

Influence: “Fooled Around and Fell in Love” by Elvin Bishop

“Peter, just stop.”

The man in question stood before you, looking very confused. He’d been pursuing you now for a few weeks, popping into the shop you worked at sporadically, always armed with a new story to boast about and a charming smile on his face. He’d usually buy something expensive—presumably to impress you—and he’d leave you with compliments that never failed to make you blush. But though you enjoyed his visits, you had no intentions of seeing him anywhere outside of work. Sure, the man was so hot he practically burned holes in your face, and you’d never met someone who could hold such interesting conversations, but after having your heart broken numerous times, you could spot his type a mile away.

He was the worst type of player—the type that could fool you into bed without even a hint of suspicion that he would be gone the next morning. You’d fallen for it before, and so it gave you great pleasure to catch Peter in the middle of head games. You wondered how many girls had he left pining for him, or better yet, you wondered if he’d even been rejected before.

His genuine look of confusion suggested that he had not.

Keep reading

So i had this idea about headcannon: how would the rfa boys +v+saeran react to MC being a the most popular korean singer?

Omg thank you guys so much! It was a shocker to see how popular the last headcanon had gotten in less than the day. This one was so fun to write, hopefully it lives up to our previous one!  ~Admin Mazz

Oh my goodness. Look at all that support!! Apparently everybody loved that last HC lol hope this one is as good! Thanks so much guys this is awesome!!! :D Enjoy, anon! ~Admin Lily

Zen

  • He was honestly surprised when you told him. Duh
  • How were you able to hide the information from him?
  • It’s called a stage name, Zen.
  • After the initial shock wore off he actually came pretty excited.
  • Power couple has been activated
  • Selfies that used to be on and off with you? They’re double fold
  • Plus, when he heard your first time when practicing
  • It didn’t just make his jaw drop let’s just say that much
  • You guys end up practicing together
  • I should get my director to get you to take the female roll, babe.”
  • For Christ’s sake, Zen, I’m just a singer, not an actor.”
  • With all the pluses of both being famous, there are some minor down sides.
  • Paparazzi everywhere; you wanna go for a walk? Pfft. Always got that camera on you
  • You guys become pretty creative with your disguises when wanting to go out
  • Before any big concerts, this boy has bouquets of roses in your dressing room.
  • They take up half of my dresser Zen, I need to see.
  • All and all, his love for you doesn’t change, it just makes everything 10xs better.

Yoosung

  • What?
  • What??
  • He’s not angry at all, he’s just so shocked
  • You explain that you didn’t want to say anything because you weren’t allowed to blow your cover for safety reasons, but now that you’re dating…
  • “Just because I’m famous, doesn’t mean I’m not the same girl, though!”
  • You felt so guilty for keeping this from him and he can tell
  • But that guilt is immediately shoved aside
  • “I had no idea! Wow, this is amazing! It’s not like I haven’t heard you before, all of Korea has, but I just… wow!”
  • “You… aren’t mad?”
  • “Why would I be mad?” Yoosung would smile “you’re the best singer in Korea and the woman of my dreams! This is a combo!”
  • Yoosung I love you so much
  • He tries to go to all of your performances and of course he absolutely adores your voice
  • “Babe, are those my CD’s?”
  • He gets you flowers every time you perform and it’s usually white roses
  • how can you not love him?
  • Also, another thing you love to do is while you’re on TV, is to blow him kisses just to make him blush
  • Paparazzi loves that boy btw they think he’s a doll
  • Jumin
  • You’re really nervous
  • Jumin loves you because you’re not like the women he sees everyday, but… you are the kind of woman he sees everyday
  • You’re famous
  • Will he love you still?
  • Gotta try
  • It doesn’t come out easily, but you finally tell him
  • At first, there was nothing
  • Please say something already this is killing me
  • He finally lets out a sigh and just says, “I understand why you needed to hide this from me.”
  • “You do?”
  • “Of course. I’m a C.E.O., remember? I’m around people like you all the time.”
  • He acts like nothing has changed like what; he treats you with just as much love as he did before
  • Which is such a relief
  • He makes sure you have guards go with you everywhere, even though you already have some
  • “Jumin, is this really necessary?”
  • “Of course it is. Your safety is my first priority.”
  • He absolutely loves your voice
  • He’ll listen to you sing while you practice, while your focusing, and while you’re performing
  • he plays your songs in his head all day long
  • Sometimes he’ll get caught humming them too
  • “Jumin, is that my song?”
  • Notorious Jumin threat clearing
  • Also, takes blurry pictures of you while you’re singing and sends to Zen just to make him mad.
  • “Why can’t you sing this nicely, Zen?”

Seven

  • This boy already knew from background checks.
  • Though that didn’t stop him from falling in love with you?
  • After everything you two have been through, and everything is chill, you tell him.
  • He just laughs at you like your the fool.
  • “Jokes on you, I knew before you did.”
  • He loves the idea of you being famous, like Zen, he makes spambots about you and how wonderful you are.
  • Seven makes sure that the public eye isn’t as nosey in your personal life when living with him.
  • Because how the hell can you take pictures from inside his bunker? Find out next episode.
  • He keeps check on you whenever you leave for practice from the CCTVs around the area you’re in.
  • If you ever get back lashes for your choices, guess whose erasing those people from the internet?
  • Ya boi.
  • When it comes to going into public is the only problem you two have about your job.
  • He’s not supposed to be in the spotlight.
  • After several possible ideas of how to escape the paparazzi, you both forget you have the best cross-dresser with you.
  • I totally didn’t think of that while watching a drag race.
  • You two become so well hidden, that sometimes when leaving your home people think that there’s more than you two living in there.
  • It ends up becoming a game of how creative you can get before they find out.
  • You and Seven 1 - Paparazzi 0
  • Whenever you have a big show, or even anything major, you have your number one cheerleader in the crowd.
  • Sometimes you believe he’s louder than a mic set.
  • When he finally comes to term of being in the spotlight with you, the public think of two things.
  • Quirky and Adorable.
  • Well, that’s just me.
  • Even if you’re a superstar, you’re the love of his life, and your job doesn’t take away from who you are at all.

V

  • Well it was certainly a shocker.
  • But, these things happen…?
  • No, V. They really don’t
  • He knew from what Seven told him from the background check, but it passed his mind at the time.
  • It wasn’t that you being famous was a bad thing, due to him being a famous photographer himself.
  • He just didn’t know how to handle the change?
  • It took awhile for him to adjust to the constant snooping, but he did it for you.
  • This sweet bean would die for you.
  • V would end up becoming your number one fan, always at your concerts, watching from backstage.
  • He would go to some of your rehearsals and take pictures of you in your work environment.
  • When you were home and practicing your songs under your breath, you sometimes hear a camera click but never can find where he’s taking them from. Stalker skills
  • They would end up being hung around the house to your dismay.
  • He also finds your voice to be very soothing
  • Sometimes, he’ll ask you to sing to him before going to bed.
  • You two are seen as an adorable couple who keep to themselves.
  • You also found a letter from a fangirl for your boyfriend once, he doesn’t let it go.
  • When you become busy with work, you’ll find post-it notes with encouraging phrases on it, or simple love notes.
  • This man will love you even if your job was being the center of the music industry because he fell in love with who you are, and not your job.

Saeran

  • Yeah, he knew
  • I mean, it’s not like he didn’t do a background check on you already
  • But it didn’t matter to him at the time because, well…
  • Ya know he didn’t think that he’d fall for you and he uh
  • He kinda did
  • And, what’s worse is that you kinda fell in love with him too
  • You make an agreement that outside of the RFA and your home, you don’t know him, he doesn’t know you
  • “Do you think that’ll work? Paparazzi always finds out, Saeran.”
  • It’s not exactly easy, but it’s what makes you two happy for a while
  • He never admits it but he thinks your voice is beautiful, and he sneakily listens to you sing while singing to yourself
  • Paparazzi finally sees you and Saeran together once and all hell breaks loose
  • A picture of you two together is literally everywhere
  • Saeran is so mad, and at first you think it’s at you
  • He explains that he’s angry that they always have to surround you like that
  • “Why can’t they just leave you alone?!”
  • Aww, Saeran
  • You start to come up with an elaborate plan to distract the media, but Saeran just says, “forget it. It was going to be found out sooner or later.”
  • Are you kidding me? Why couldn’t we do that in the first place
  • After that, the paparazzi literally is unable to find any information on Saeran, and they’re always asking questions about him
  • “Who is this mystery man? Look at Page 3 for more info”
  • You just shrug, “I don’t know. Does it matter?” Saeran thinks its hilarious he loves you so much

anonymous asked:

Yay, fic prompts!! Can I request a Damen/Laurent fake dating or marriage of convenience AU?

“You’re wondering if I’m foxed, to suggest such a thing.”

“Not at all,” said Damen, who had been wondering exactly that.

“It’s entirely a question of blunt, you see.”

“You speak plainly, my lord,” said Damen.

“Yes,” said Laurent, Lord de Vere. “I do.”

Damen judged it wise to keep his hands clasped behind his back, a parade-ground posture he could hold for hours on end if necessary. He was starting to wish he had the means to become a trifle bosky himself; a few glasses of claret might make this interview easier, though probably would not manage to render it less bizarre. The room was warm, the fire crackling merrily in the wide grate, and de Vere leaned one elbow on the mantlepiece in an elegant posture of repose. Waves of blond hair sat beautifully on his brow, brushed back in the latest style, as befitting a creature of fashion.

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anonymous asked:

hi it's the anon who elaborated on rat puppet man replacing hellucard, imagine like. When Matt went to change time, the future trio was still stuck in the present day, and there's a credit scene where the future trio are sitting in an alley while rat puppet man performs a show for them, and the last line is Matt saying "wow he is sinister" (referring to what present day Matt said) -call me space anon

REAWWY GOOD

April 1, 2016

Hello,

What has happened today to cause another apocalypse?  It seems in every scenery that I traverse today there is some form of prank or declaration concerning lizards for president or the actor that portrays myself in another universe being declared “Overlord.” What ever is going on?

This particular day used to be Gabriel’s favorite day, though he would not clearly ever state just exactly why April 1 would spark such a sudden amount of energy form him. I would see an elevation in his antics annually on this day, but I would assume his energy would seep into others somehow. They would stage elaborate antics and practical jokes on one another claiming jesters to be the cause of the mischievous pranks. Today, however, seems to have one person being deified into something else entirely.

I heard of rumors regarding the mythical “Mishapocalypse” from past years, but I had never realized its extent across the social webs until there was nothing but a rather disconcerting mage of the man resembling Jimmy Novak plastered across every possible scenario imaginable. It seems this man has turned psychotic and is now releasing his army of identical clones onto the Earth. Now, that is highly illogical therefore I am nothing less than utterly confused as to the extent of what this “April Fool’s” Event is doing or planning on doing.

Was it’s original intent to be to frighten the nonbelievers? Or perhaps nothing but a harmless creative way to express one’s love for one particular person? I will say that seeing a picture of myself that I have no recollection of taking is not something I would like to experience again. The last time this occurred Gabriel had convinced me I was in an alternate reality with Sam and Dean not being hunters but rather normal humans with their human, non-celestial being friend. It was all very convincing and thus very confusing; that is, until I saw the picture of the actor and not the angel.

The more that I ponder this the more I suspect there are other powers at work behind this apocalyptic 24 hour event. Nevertheless, the net aggregate appearance of twitter, tumblr, and other social media avatars has risen exponentially today and shows no sign in stopping for at least 24 hours after today ends.

I have just heard movement from outside and various forms of chanting. Perhaps something supernatural is happening in connection to this apocalypse after all…

 Yours,

Castiel

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