it's exactly how i imagined it


This was the second thing i did for the anniverssary. I came with the idea for this comic when i was over a hard time and i think it’s kind of strange how this relate with what happened in the fandom a few days ago.  

Maybe all what we need is to have a little star around us.

Happy anniversary, Miraculous


Is this where I give a speech? Ask you to die for me? No thanks. 

I say we shove the Remnant down the Archon’s throat, and maybe that buys us a chance. All of us. We get the whole cluster to pile on. Everyone in Heleus has earned some fucking payback. 


I walked into the room, avoiding direct eye contact with the alien waiting for me. Its huge eyes just looked like a jet black sclera set in a sack of vaguely damp, wrinkled gray leather. If eyes are a window into the soul, this creepy little guy would give satan a run for his money. They just put me on edge, somehow. I’d have to make eye contact anyway, but it could wait.

I strode up to the meeting table, pulled out the chair, and sat down. I shuffled around in my bag for a moment before pulling out a small piece of tech, which I set on the table in front of me.

“Before we begin, I want to be sure of a few things. This device you’ve provided us with, it is 100% effective at understanding and translating languages, correct?”

The alien across from me nodded. It’s a nice little allowance they’ve made for comfort, learning our body language, but its bulbous head threw the whole gesture off. It made me think of one of those old inflatable toys with a weight on the bottom, that would lean too far to the side before bouncing straight back up. Woobles or something. It didn’t really matter.

“Nearly. We occasionally find a race with one or two concepts that it has trouble with, but that’s easily smoothed over.”

I took a deep breath, and waited a moment to compose myself. This whole thing was going to be more trying than not interrupting old man Higgins up the street while he went on about whatever racist sentiment was in his head at the moment.

“One or two…okay. That’s odd.”

The alien blinked. Eyelids came in from not just the top and bottom, but also the sides. That’s just plain creepy. Reminds me of one of those really old movies they threw on the media blacklist pretty much as soon as first contact started. Something in black. Whatever it was, I remember seeing it as a kid, and that guy at the beginning had nothing on this alien’s eyes.

“Have you already found something it can’t translate?”

I nodded, then pulled out my communicator and scrolled through a few documents. I really needed to clean this thing out. Can’t believe I didn’t get around to it before coming to such an important meeting. Imagine the debacle that would result if I opened exactly the wrong thing. Never can know what that might be, honestly.

“Of a sort, yes. Mind humoring me for a few minutes?”

The alien steepled its hands together, and leaned forward. That’s just plain creepy. I wonder how they learned such context specific body language? Not that it really matters, I guess. Not my problem.

“Certainly. After all, it can take years to accept a race into the Federation.”

Nodding again, I pulled up a document on my communicator, then leaned back in my chair as I began. This was going to be more interesting than that time your classmate Jimmy found some old matches somewhere and almost burned the school down by mistake.

“Excellent. This shouldn’t take much time. I mentioned that we found some issues with your device. Allow me to demonstrate: Espionage.”

The little device on the table beeped, and a red light flashed.


I sighed. That one had been an accident. We just had the thing sitting in a conference room while we discussed the implications of the visit when it came up. But, when something that simple for us to understand came up, we had to try for more.

“Reverse Engineering.”

Again, a beep and a flash of red.



And again with the beep. This was going to get irritating if I didn’t speed things up a bit. Too bad we hadn’t managed to find a mute option for that feature.


“Overwhelming Force”


“Scorched Earth”




Blitzkrieg, Stealth, Mutually Assured Destruction, Acceptable Losses, Pyrrhic Victory, Guerilla Warfare, Encirclement, Entrenchment, Siege.”

The device gave off a series of distressed beeps, punctuated by rapid blinking of the little red light. I almost felt sorry for it. Almost.


I paused, and glanced across the table at the alien before looking back down at the translator. This was going to hit it harder than a washed up holovid actor with no auditions and less money hits rock bottom.


The chair across from me clattered to the ground as the alien practically fell out of its seat. I don’t blame the poor thing. Of all the aggressive, militaristic words we tried, that was one of the ones we least expected to translate. I mean, really. Who has a word for the intentional extermination of an entire sapient species when they don’t even understand fundamental hostile international mechanics like spying?

“Why do you have a word for…what was all that just now?”

I chuckled a bit while motioning for the alien to sit back down. His reaction had been pretty good, perfectly suitable for one of those hammed-up old dramas where the hero realizes they’ve been working with the villain all along.

“We were confused about that too. So we took a look at the information you sent as part of first contact with us. We noticed something interesting. Every single race in your Federation is carnivorous. Why is that?”

The alien seemed smaller somehow as it settled back into a seat. It looked kind of like a balloon slowly losing air, if that balloon was made of moldering gray leather with eyes that made your spinal column decide it wanted a holiday in Fiji.

“First contact has always been made after sapient races make it to multiple worlds. We’ve never found a sapient herbivorous race which failed to destroy themselves in resource wars and aggressive action. We’ve never found herbivores capable of surviving long enough to leave their own world.”

I leaned forward in the chair and smiled while finally making direct eye contact with the alien. I think the poor thing shivered when I did that. Not that I blame it. Imagine your reaction when you start to put the pieces together and realize that your friendly, upstanding next door neighbor might be the world’s most wanted criminal.

“And the races you have found, while commonly using threat displays, do not waste resources on wars they cannot easily win, correct?”

The alien nodded as it slouched a bit in its chair. It looked kind of like it was trying to hide. Who wouldn’t want to hide from the monsters in their closet?

“Wasted resources means decreased likelihood of survival.”

I shrugged. That was true enough, though rather coldly logical. Dispassionate logic like that has never been our strong suit. Then again, that’s why I’m in this situation in the first place, so it evens out.

“And yet herbivores constantly waste resources on aggression, on movement, on having more young than will possibly survive.”

The alien was staring at me. I’m not sure when the last time it blinked was. I wonder if those eyes need some kind of lubrication to keep from drying out. Probably, they looked a bit less creepy than they should’ve. Looked like they were losing their shine.

“And they die for it. That’s exactly why we’ve never encountered spacefaring herbivores. Their inherent aggression is their own demise.”

I held eye contact. I’d almost swear the alien was a weird statue right now. Don’t know who would commission a statue made of old greasy leather, but I’m sure there’s someone with too much money and too little sense who would give it a shot.

“Indeed. Now, back to the subject at hand. I’ll ask you before we continue: what can you offer humans for joining your Federation?”

The alien sputtered as it started moving again. I’d swear it looked offended. Maybe it doesn’t see where this is going. Not that it really matters, I guess. I mean, it probably matters about as much as posting a formal complaint to a new corporate policy, which is to say not at all.

“We’ve already sent the offer. You’ve seen that, I’m sure.”

I nodded, and began to tap out a staccato rhythm on the table with my fingers. I never could remember where I learned this stupid tune. I’ve known it as long as I can remember, and it just moves into my head on occasion and sticks around like that one couchsurfing friend who doesn’t understand the idea of wearing out their welcome.

“And I’m asking, what else do you have to offer?”

The alien just shook its head again, staring at the device. I wonder if it thought we might’ve tampered with it. As if we knew how. That little thing is way beyond our current abilities. We had some scientists pry it open and look inside, just to be sure.

“Nothing. I’m not sure why you’re-”

I raised my hand, cutting him off. Huh. Not sure why that worked. Did they learn that much of our body language? That’s still really creepy, if it’s the case. Or, maybe I just have it on edge. I dunno. I guess it doesn’t matter.

“May I have permission to connect my datapad with my ship’s computers?”

The alien glanced away from me for a moment. I assume it was checking in with superiors somehow. Maybe it was psychic, to an extent. Or maybe they just had an implant of some sort. We’ll find out eventually, I’m sure.

“Yes, if you like.”

I sighed. I guess that makes things easier for us. I don’t think anyone was going to like what I was about to do. This whole thing felt kind of like one of those holovids of an accident, where you know what’s coming and don’t want to keep going, but for some reason you just can’t seem to stop and pull yourself away.

“Computer, show video: Hiroshima”

A screen appeared in the air above my datapad. It started playing back an old, grainy video. Shaky, taken by hand in an aircraft in a firefight. Below, you can barely see a city being blotted out by a massive explosion. A cloud of smoke, fire and debris was rapidly climbing into the sky, billowing, growing, blooming into an eerie and easily recognized mushroom cloud.

“That’s…you’re using weapons of that scale on a population center? How recent was this?”

I shrugged, and closed the video. The screen on my datapad went back to the document I had up earlier. Gotta love how well they managed to predict this whole thing. I made a mental note to recommend a raise for whoever set up that document for me.

“Three centuries ago. Prior to our invention of spaceflight. Part of a much larger conflict. This is a relatively minor example of “overwhelming force”“


“Shut it. Computer, show infosheet: Battle of Stalingrad.”

A series of graphs and diagrams appeared above my datapad. They showed resources, time, maps, battle plans, and death tolls. Images were interspersed throughout, as were annotations on the tactical value of this, the emotional value of that. Prominent among them was a single apartment building, including notes on sniping from the roof and support via tunnels.

“That…what purpose would that…why w-”

Again, I raised my hand to cut him off, before closing the infosheet. Maybe it was both. Nah, couldn’t be. Only way it was both having this guy on edge and our body language is if it somehow had our body language built in. Unsettling thought, but not exactly likely.

“Because Stalingrad was an advantageous location and the people who died there were considered ‘Acceptable losses’“


“Computer, show gallery: General Sherman’s March to the Sea.”

A multitude of images appeared over the datapad. Rail lines and roads intentionally broken and destroyed. Farms and fields scoured clean and left to fallow. Buildings and towns razed to the ground. A broken people left to mourn and starve.

“So much waste…that can’t be intentional, can it?”

I glanced at the images, the wanton destruction that campaign caused, and the very orders that caused it. That kind of thing may be considered morally reprehensible now, even a war crime, but it wasn’t always. At the time, the strategy was extolled as one of the reasons the war ended the way it did.

“It was intentional.”

The alien stared at me, its reflective black eyes bigger than I’d ever seen them before. Creepy as all hell, that’s for sure. I’d rather not deal with these kinds of meetings in the future. Maybe after this I could negotiate for some kind of retirement.


I tapped my datapad and closed the gallery, then leaned back and tossed my feet on the table. May as well relax, I already knew how this was going to end.

“Because it rendered the enemy unable to use resources Sherman couldn’t keep. Computer, assemble and show video grouping: RTS Games”

A large grid of videos came up, showing a huge range of scenes. Largely battle, the settings varied from open space to deep ocean, from early history to the far “future.” Even battles across space and time could be seen.

“The translator can’t have gotten that right. Those are military tactical simulations. Higher level than anything I’ve ever seen or heard of.”

I laughed as I closed out all of the videos and turned back to the alien. Creepy and unsettling as it might be, I’m pretty sure I was terrifying the poor thing. Not that I really felt sorry for it. Not at all.

“No. They aren’t. Those are games. Toys. For. Fun. And they’re a couple hundred years out of date. From what I’ve seen, nearly every human capable of coherent speech is capable of tactically overwhelming your Federation. And since we’re already here, in space, it’s too late for you to say no. So, I’ll ask again:

What do you have to offer us?”


mistrel-fox created an awesome crossover with gf and fma, also did these amazing drawings. Oh man the ideas are so great.

With the twins losing both of their limbs, I imagined GrunkleStan being the suit of armor and well….. I got waaay too deep into this.


and it’s all your fault MISTREL


  • Minho: There's a rumor going around, you know.
  • You: What rumor?
  • Minho: Apparently there's this guy who really likes you but doesnt have the guts to tell you.
  • You: Who is it?
  • Minho: He'd kill me if I told you.
  • You: I thought we were best friends.
  • Minho: He's also one of my best friends.
  • You: Minho, you're only other best friends are Thomas, and Newt and it's definitely not one of them.
  • -
  • Thomas: Hey (Y/N), I heard about the guy who's in love with you.
  • You: Oh, so he's in love with me?
  • Newt: No he isnt.
  • You: Can't you shanks just admit that there is no guy. If there were, you'd at the least give me a name.
  • Thomas: Mm, no names. But you know him. *winks*
  • (walk away)
  • You: I know everyone in the bloody glade.
  • -
  • Minho: Do you want to know more about your secret admirer?
  • You: Not really.
  • Minho: And why not?
  • You: Because you shanks are playing with me.
  • -
  • Newt: You alright?
  • You: *laughs* Just doing my best to stay away from the boys and their secret admirer crap.
  • Newt: Don't think you have one?
  • You: Have you met the boys? Of course not. Besides if there were, I dont understand why he wouldn't talk to me.
  • Newt: Maybe he's afraid you won't like him back.
  • You: How will he ever know if he wont talk to me?
  • Newt: Give the shank a break, he's a shy one.
  • You: So you know him?
  • Newt: *under his breath* Better than you'd think.
  • -
  • You: The hints you gave me about the guy.. Are they true?
  • Minho: Yeah he's a shy dude, one of my best friends and won't shut up about you when you're not around.
  • You: I think I have a clue about who it is.
  • Minho: It's not all that hard to tell if your pay attention to the way he looks at you.
  • You: What if it's the guy I'm thinking of?
  • Minho: I think you know exactly who he is, (Y/N).
  • -
  • You: Guess what? I found out who the secret admirer is.
  • Newt:
  • You: Doesn't matter. Do you think now I know he'll grow a pair and ask me out?
  • Newt: If he does, will you say yes?
  • You: Only if he stops referring to himself in the third person.
  • Newt: Okay (Y/N), would you like to go out with me?
  • You: Y'know I always had a thing for boys with accents.
Imagine if
  • Belle: So what's in the west wing
  • Lumiere: Oh, it's a magical rose that our very existence and future depends on
  • Cogsworth: The enchantress who cursed us left it behind and if you touch it, all the petals might fall off and we'll be stuck as inanimate objects forever
  • Belle: Oh alright
  • Belle: Thanks for letting me know
  • Belle: I'll be sure to stay clear of the west wing since I know exactly what's in there and how it affects all of you

What If We’re NOT Space Australia?

I’ve seen the “Humans are Space Orcs” and “Earth is Space Australia” tags going around and thought I’d put in my two cents.

I know that this will probably annoy/upset people, but what if Earth isn’t Space Australia? What if Earth is more like Space Canada?

Just take a second to imagine it- aliens on other planets talking about how kind and welcoming and apologetic Humans are. Aliens talking about how aggressive our wildlife can be, even though theirs is deadlier. Aliens making up rumours and steryotypes about Humans that are widely accepted BECAUSE THAT’S ALMOST EXACTLY WHAT WE’RE LIKE! Humans interacting with its sister planets intelligent species (whatever it may be) in the joking way that Canadians and Americans interact- with smart remarks and a sibling-like rivalry.

Just- Earth as Space Canada!

Just stay

 AN: I have developed an insanely unhealthy obsession over Dacre as Billy, and to my followers I know this blog is primarily for riverdale but I just had to write this to clear my head a little.. enjoy

Being with Billy Hargrove had its pros and its cons. I got to witness his softer, gentler side that he reserved only for me. But it also meant I saw him at his worst, when he acted like a boorish jackass. I knew exactly why he acted out this way, because of how he was treated at home but it never justified how he behaved towards his sister or the random fights he got into at school.

My friends didn’t understand why I was with him but they didn’t have to, it wasn’t up to them. If I could have it my way you would run away with him and never look back. It was just like any other normal Saturday. I’d go over to Billy’s house and study over the things we’d learnt in class for the week, or at least attempt to get Billy to study. We’d usually just end up listening to his overly loud music and making out.

His dad and Susan were always out on a Saturday and it was a rare occasion that they were ever home when I was round. They didn’t seem to mind my presence but Billy tried to keep me away from them as much as possible.

Walking up the steps to their front door I knock twice awaiting to see my boyfriends face open the door, but my features twisted in confusion slightly when Susan answers a worried look on her face. She only lets her face peak out from behind the door.

“Y/n sweetheart I don’t think this is the best time” she whispers looking behind her to the stairs briefly before looking back at me. I look straight past her and hear a loud crash upstairs, instantly worry spreads across my face and I barge past the woman and run up the stairs towards Billy’s room.

“Y/n no, sweetheart, don’t go up there!” Susan yells and chases up the stairs after me. I open Billy’s door briskly to see his father strike a punch across his face. Billy’s face follows the direction his father’s fist sends it. I run in front of the man to protect Billy. My eyes are wild and my breath is rigid.

“Look Billy, your little whore has come to save the day” Neil says with a smirk etched on his face. His bloodied knuckles reach out stroke my face, I snap my face away and Billy steps forward arm wrapping around my waist. “Don’t you fucking touch her” he screams squaring up to the older man.

Neil’s eyes turn dark and he shoves me out of the way knocking me to the floor, he pushes Billy against the wall and chokes him. “Don’t you ever talk to me like that! What did we say about respect!” he spits in his face.

Billy’s hand raises and he hits his father across the side of his face, instantly making Neil release his grip of Billy’s throat. He grabs my hand and pulls me towards the door. We run out of the house and towards his car. I hear Neil screaming from inside the house and see Susan rushing to shut the front door giving us a few more seconds to make a getaway.

Billy speeds out of the driveway and heads towards my house. I let out a breath and look towards my boyfriend noticing the bruising on his cheek and his split lip and eyebrow. I see a stray tear stroll down his cheek as he pulls into my drive. My parents are working late at work so we don’t need to worry about any questions from them about what’s happened.

I drag Billy into the bathroom upstairs and make him sit up on the counter. I get the first aid box down from the cabinet and grab some cotton balls and rubbing alcohol.

“I’m sorry you had to see that baby” he whispered eyes dropping meet mine. I shake my head and continue to dab his cuts clean earning a hiss from him.

“Thank you for standing up for me, I know how hard that must have been to do” I sigh and look up at the boy stroking his curls away from his face. “I’ll always protect you, no matter what” I lean forward and gently press my lips against his, Billy’s hands snake around my waist as he slides down from the counter to press himself closer to my body.

My fingers become entangled in his hair, I feel his hands slide down to reach under my thighs where he picks me up and carries me towards my bedroom. He kicks the door open and walks towards the bed where he lays me down. I taste the metallic tang of blood in my mouth and notice his lip is bleeding again and pull away.
“What’s wrong?” he whimpers looking down at me in confusion. I bring my hand up to his face and glide my thumb over his lip lightly.

He flinches, “it’s nothing I’m fine baby” he reassures but I sit up shaking my head. “This is not fine, nothing about what has been happening to you is fine, Billy. Do you not notice that every time he hurts you it hurts me? I hate seeing you in pain because of that asshole. I hate the person you become when he hurts you, you have to tell someone”

“I can’t y/n, you know I can’t” he sighs looking down at the mattress. “Don’t go back there, please, you can stay here for a while I just can’t stand to see you get hurt anymore” he looks up at me the slightest bit of hope in his eyes. “Just stay.”

Originally posted by taikka

the guy playing Shadow in the new American Gods tv series looks like the kind of person i would want to pat me on the shoulder and softly tell me everything is going to be okay

I have often thought that the sum of who you are as a person and the state your life is in at any given moment is a lot like a long mathematical formula. The numbers in it are the key people and events that have shaped you as a person and the symbols represent how they affected you. Sometimes they will add to you and sometimes they will take away from you… Sometimes they divide you and other times they will multiply your happiness greatly… And so, the answer at the end of all that is the person you are and the value your life holds to you as of that moment… And just like in mathematics, that end result is the sum of all that came before it; all those people and events and the various ways they affected your life up until that point. If you were to look back and imagine changing any one of them – or even removing them from the equation altogether – you can see exactly how the remaining factors would have affected you and know just how different you would have been in the end…
When I look at my life and its events laid out in order, I not only see the overwhelmingly positive affect that meeting you had on me as a person – I also notice something else… something quite profound.
There was a point not long after you came into my life where I had a lot taken from me. It was a great loss and it reduced me to one of the lowest points in my life… And when I look back on it and I remove you from the equation; if I look at the value my life would have held at that point… I see that without you – it would have been nothing…
And I guess what I’m trying to say in a very roundabout way is….
I think you saved my life.
flashing lights || b.b

Relationship: AU!Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: When you witness a crime happen, an unexpectedly handsome officer saves you, and pulls you over, and then takes you to dinner with a little help from his friend Steve.  

Warnings: mentions of violence, itty bit of angst, a whole lotta fluff

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: steve is me as a person in this fic tbh and ALSO this is a bucky au but like a 40′s bucky in the present like it’s confusing ik ik but its how i imagined it

You had been walking down the hallway of your floor when it all happened. It’s not everyday that a person gets thrown out of an apartment onto the floor, nearly going through the wall. 

Well, that’s exactly what happened, and you got stuck in the middle of it. After the rather large man was thrown out of the apartment, three other men walked out into the hallway before looking at a very frightened you, “shit,” one of them mumbled as the largest one came towards you. 

You didn’t know what to do, you were frozen in place, hell you could barely breathe. You heard shouting coming from the apartment and you just prayed to whoever that the police would be called or someone would step out to see what was going on. 

“Looks like we’ve got an onlooker,” the tall man chuckled, your heart racing as your feet instinctively carried you backwards, “I-I,” you tried to say something but your throat was dry and voice hoarse. 

“She ain’t gonna do a thing, Robbie,” one of the other men said, “just let her go, will ya,” he spoke and you couldn’t have agreed more. 

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First Time for Everything

Request: Can you do a one about the first time the boys call batmom “mom” plz :3

I wrote a part two to this which is here


The first time Dick called you mom you and Bruce weren’t even married yet.  It was kind of a surprise.  Bruce had decided that he wanted you to meet all his sons, and Dick was the only one to voluntarily do so.

You two spent the day together and it was definitely fun.  So when you had to leave, Dick wrapped himself around and said “Bye mom!” And then he realized what he just said.  And oh was he embarrassed.  He started getting flustered and stuttering over an apology.

You just laughed it off and hugged him.  “Dick it’s ok.  I’m honored that you see me as a motherly figure.”  After the he just called you mom from then on out.  


By the time Tim called you mom you and Bruce were married.  When he called you mom it was pretty hilarious.  When said it he was barely awake.  He had been staying up really late, and knowing him you knew he needed coffee.  So you brought him some.  

Or at least you tried to.  By the time you got there he had fallen asleep.  So you decided to take him to bed.  It took a lot of work dragging him into bed, but you eventually did it.  

You kissed him on the forehead and were about to leave, but then he grabbed onto your wrist.  All you could hear was him whisper “I love you Mommy.”  And then he went back to sleeping.  At least not for long cause your laughing woke him up.


You never really thought that Damian would ever get around to seeing you as his mom, or anywhere near that.  Surprisingly it ended up happening.  At a really bad time.

The boys had gone out to patrol, leaving you home alone.  You were in the kitchen when you had been knocked out.  Next thing you knew, you were blindfolded and tied up somewhere.  Your blindfold was removed to reveal that Talia Al Ghul had taken you.  

“You are ruining everything.  You are taking MY beloved.”  she sneered at you.  She lunged to attack you but stopped when  a cry was heard.  “MOTHER!”  Damian had showed up.  It hurt that he saw only Talia as his mother.  But you understood.  Talia walked to her son, only to be pushed away.  Damian ran to you and untied you.  “Mother are you ok?”

You were shocked.  Not as much as Talia.  She was shocked that you were able to ruin even her son.  He hugged you and whispered, “I was worried that we would not find you.”

You felt pride.  Pride in the fact that you were able to show your son love he never had.  Pride that he saw you as his mother.  


It didn’t really seem like Jason liked you.  At all.  You tried your best to get him to tolerate you at the least, but it was hard when he was never around.  It had been longer than usual, which worried you.  

You went to his apartment to check on him.  You unlocked the door and went in, dropping everything when you heard his anguished screams.  Running into his room, you saw him thrashing around on the bed and sounding as if he was in pain.  

Sliding into his bed, you cradled his body, softly calling out his name.  He gasped and sat up, looking at you in disbelief.  “Mom?”  God he sounded so small and all you could do was  hug reassure him that you were here. He sobbed, and all you could think was how Jason had finally accepted you as his mother.  

A/N: So I wasn’t exactly sure if anon wanted an imagine or a oneshot so I did it to my best of knowledge.  Also I don’t really know what’s happening with Tumblr mobile, so if its glitchy idk. 

anonymous asked:

Wow thank you for posting that! It's actually pretty funny to imagine Steve at a con, being surrounded by all these people dressed up as people he works with. I actually did know about Steve's job as an artist for Captain America comics, but I'd never heard of Tony cosplaying as himself? How does that work? Do people just assume he's a normal guy and totally not the real superhero that he looks exactly like?

Oh, my dear anon, please allow me to tell you about Iron Man v1 #72. You can tell even before you read it that it is THE BEST COMIC because its title is “Convention of Fear!” with an exclamation point and everything. (Okay, it’s not actually the best comic, but it’s pretty funny.) And, yes, people assume he’s just a regular guy and totally not the real Iron Man. 

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Sans got so scared he opened his mouth


What's truly scary about Antisepticeye?

I will admit, since the whole Anti thing ended in October, I’ve been reading a lot of Anti fanfictions and it definitely made me think a bit. I’ve come around many different versions of stories or Anti himself and ever since I ask myself the same question:

What if this all WAS REAL?

Think about it, what if all the things we see were real? What if the attention and spread of awareness of Anti made him a real thing? What if Jack is in danger, fighting for his life alongside the other egos, who became real the same way as Anti? What if Anti really exists and took Sean’s place, pretending to be him all this time?
What if it’s really OUR fault that Sean’s life is in danger?

The scary thing is, We wouldn’t have a clue…

Cuz of course we wouldn’t, who with the right mind would believe that something that people started drawing and talk about could by any chance take a real physical form? That’s right, no one.
Nobody would even think that Jack’s life is in real danger, no one would think their online actions could mean anything.

And that is truly terrifying to me.

We wouldn’t have any chance to help him.
We would be watching a demon, our creation, disguising flawlessly as someone else, with us thinking that any time he’d show his real face is a joke, an act from Jack. We can’t tell the difference in when we see Jack himself or Anti pretending as it is, now imagine it would be fatal to Sean’s life.

Anti would know this, he would know we don’t believe this is real. And he would take advantage of that, he’d have us tangled in his strings, making us do exactly what he wants, without us having a clue. Just like good puppets.

To wrap this up cuz I ramble too much,
Just imagine the situation, imagine how screwed we and Jack would be.

…scary, right?

a what? - miniminter imagine

Originally posted by wroetotrash

i was so so so excited to write this! thankyou for the request! also guys, i’m 2 followers away from 1000!!

requested; yes

word count; 522 words

warnings; swearing, its natural

pairing; simon x reader

Keep reading


Summary: In which Bucky makes a list of things he’s grateful for and, one day, the list consists only of you.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,322

A/N: This is inspired by an article I read where Sebastian said he creates lists of things he’s grateful for in order to keep himself grounded.

@avengerstories - I’m forever grateful for your editing. 

Originally posted by leafierleaf

You’re in the middle of cleaning when you find a small, leather-bound journal under the couch. Unsure of whom it belongs to or where it came from, you open to the first page. In barely legible handwriting, you find a list of ten items. You can barely make out any of the words and flip to the next page to see if you’ll have any more luck.  

Your curiosity gets the best of you and, before you know it, fifteen minutes have passed by and you are still looking through the journal. There seems to be no pattern to the list of words on every page nor is there any hints as to who it belongs to.

The further along you get in the journal, the guiltier you begin to feel about opening it to begin with. These are most likely someone’s very private thoughts that you’ve stumbled upon and you have no right to be looking through them.

Just as you’re about to close the journal and put it back where it came from, you notice a page with your name written across the top. The handwriting might be nearly impossible to comprehend but you would recognize your name anywhere. You run your hand across the page, feeling the indentations that have been made by the blue pen as if it will give you a hint as to who the author is.

Keep reading

Your Move

The nine times Simon and Baz prank each other and the one time they don’t

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Epilogue

April 1


I find the letter at the foot of my bed when I wake up.




I don’t know exactly how to say this

I’ve been sitting here staring at the blank page for ten minutes

Why did you have to be the Mage’s Heir?

I wish this didn’t have to be so hard to say

Crowley, this is ridiculous

We’ve lived together all this time and

Bet you thought I hated you

I don’t hate you

I can’t even explain what I

Why did we have to be enemies?

Fuck it.


I love you Simon Snow.



He finds me outside the dining hall, and when he storms towards me I see the letter in his hand. I brace myself.


“When did you even write this?” I begin.

           Baz looks taken aback.  “What does that have to do with anything?”

           “And why did you have to write it today?”

           “It’s April Fool’s Day, Snow,” he tells me, “or did you forget already?”

           “That’s just it,” I say, my voice getting louder. “Why would you write something like this on a day where it could be a prank?”

           “For exactly that reason.”

           “Well, what am I supposed to think?”

           He gives me a look.  “Think whatever you want, Snow,” he shrugs, “I’ve made my move, just focus on making yours.”

           I glare up at him a second longer.  His eyes are gray and deep and almost sad.

           His mouth is right there, and his lips look soft like his hair.

           I wonder if he’s noticed where I’m looking.


I wonder if he’ll reach up…

           Or if I’ll have to reach down…

           Or if I’m even brave enough…


I’m not brave enough.

           I step back while I still can, before I’ve been staring at his mouth too long or before one of us closes the distance.

           I wish I had some sort of parting phrase, something more eloquent than “fuck you”, but I don’t.

           So I turn and walk away, feeling his eyes bore into my back, feeling that same magnetic tension I’d felt when I’d left him to cry away his own nightmares.

           I wait until I’m around the corner before I start running.


Maybe a love letter is a lame April Fool’s Day prank, but when else am I supposed to tell him? When else would he take it with a grain of salt?

           Except he didn’t take it with a grain of salt, even today.

           I hope it makes him hate me.  I hope he burns it in front of me.  I hope he makes me burn it with my own fire.

           I wish he would just break my heart and leave it at that.

           Because the only thing worse than knowing he hates me is not knowing.


I could have kissed him.

           I wanted to kiss him.


           I’m outside when I run out of breath and I lean against an ivy-covered wall before pulling my phone out of my pocket and dialing Penny’s number.



           “Hey Simon, what’s up?”

           I squeeze my eyes shut.  “You’ve got to help me.”

           “Why, what’s wrong?”



           “I almost kissed Baz.”


I find Simon sitting on the ground against a wall, and the grass is wet but I join him anyway and wait for him to speak.

           “What’s wrong with me, Penny?”

           I shoot him a look.  “Nothing’s wrong with you, Simon,” I assure him, “you’re just scared.”

           “Baz hates me.”

           I don’t answer.

           “And I hate him, right?”

           “If you have to ask me, then you probably don’t.”

           “But I must,” he insists, “I always have.”

           “Things change.”

           “Not this.”

           “Where is this even coming from?” I ask.  He hands me a folded slip of paper.  A letter, and even though it’s not signed, it’s clear who wrote it.  

           “It was on my bed this morning.”

           “You do realize this is probably a prank, right?”

           “But that’s just it,” he sits forward urgently, “I can’t tell.”

           “Simon,” I tell him firmly, “if he does feel this way, then what better day to tell you than on a day you might not realize it’s true?”

           “But why wouldn’t he want me to realize?”

           “Oh, I don’t know,” I scoff, “maybe because you’ve been mortal enemies your whole life and he’s supposed to kill you and it would be bad enough if he thought you hated him but even worse if you didn’t?”

           He doesn’t respond, weighing the possibility in his mind.

           “Quick question.”


           “Who almost kissed whom?”

           He shakes his head.  “I’m not really sure anymore.”

           “Did you want to kiss him?”

           It’s a long moment before he gives the slightest of nods.  “Why would I want that, Penny?”

           I put a hand on his knee.  “Oh, Si,” I murmur sympathetically, “you know why.”


I only go to the room for a minute after lunch to grab a jacket, but when I get there, there’s a note on my bed.



I love you too.



Of course I do.  How could I have doubted for a second that I did?


I avoid him for the rest of the day, spending most of it wandering the catacombs and when that gets boring, the Wavering Wood.  I climb to the top of the highest tree I can find and close my eyes, trying to remember how it felt yesterday.

           I don’t know if I should be reading into the note or not, but that’s probably my own fault.  I did it to him, so he did it to me, all on the one day of the year dedicated to practical jokes.

           Yet neither of us have actually said April Fool’s.

           I wait as long as I can to return to our room for the night, and by then it’s dark already.  Simon doesn’t appear to have come up yet, but the window is open, so he must have been here since I found his note.

           As I stare at the window, something dark and long swoops through the outside air lazily.

           I venture closer, and it swings by again, but this time I see what it is.  A dragon’s tail.

           Part of me wants to yank it hard and send him tumbling (his wings would save him anyway, no harm done), but I just poke my head out the window and find Simon on the roof, his tail dangling over the edge.

           “What in Merlin’s name are you doing up there?”

           “Turns out I like high places,” he replies without looking at me.  I should go back inside (I don’t have anything else to say), but the sky is clear tonight and the moon is hitting his curls in a new way and I could study them for hours.

           “What are you looking at?” he asks when he catches me staring.

           I shake myself out of my trance.  “Nothing,” I say, ducking to retreat back in.

           “You should come up.”


           “Up here, it’s a great view.”

           “I can see just fine from here, Snow.”

           “Yeah, but…” he trails off, still gazing out over the grounds, “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

           “You can come down if you want to talk to me.”

           “Where’s the fun in that?”  He shoots me a shy smile like he’s not sure if it’s allowed. “Seriously, just get out here.”

           I peer over the windowsill to the moat.  “I’ll fall.”

           “No you won’t,” Simon scoffs, “I’ve seen you climb.”

           “And I fell.”

           “I’d catch you.”

           He won’t look at me again but I can tell he’s not going to take no for an answer.

           I look anywhere but down or at him as I scramble over the sill and up onto the roof, not taking the offered hand but not slapping it away either as I might have done yesterday.

           One almost-kiss and you’d think the world was turned upside-down.

           Well, two almost-kisses.

           I settle into place beside him, anchoring my feet so I won’t slide down the angled roof.  It’s really not the most comfortable position, and the night air is colder up here, but now that I’m here I can see what he was talking about.  The Wood is like a quilt draped over the land and the hills roll like waves into the distance.  “Not a bad view,” I concede.

           “Told you.”

           “It would be a shame if I were to push you off the roof right now.”

           “You won’t.”

           “You sure?”



           “You just won’t.”

           I should, just to prove him wrong. Yesterday I might have.



           “Why haven’t we teamed up before?”

           I give a dark laugh.  “It might have something to do with being mortal enemies.”

           “Is that what we are?”

           “Well, it’s no secret that the Old Families want me to kill you.”

           “So why haven’t you?”

           “Are you getting impatient, Snow?”

           “You’ve had every opportunity, but even the times that you have legitimately tried, you’ve ended up saving me.”

           “I’ll make a note to stop doing that.”

           “Please don’t.”

           “I doubt we’d make a very good team, Snow,” I chuckle quietly.

           He looks genuinely curious.  “Why not?”

           “I think there has to be a certain level of trust in a team.”

           “I trust you.”

           I raise an incredulous eyebrow at him.  “I sold you out to a goblin yesterday, and now you trust me?”

           “It seems that way.”

           “Maybe that’s the reason we wouldn’t make a good team, because of your horrible decision-making skills.”

           Simon just laughs.  “You weren’t actually trying to kill me, and besides, look how it turned out.”

           My mind jumps straight to the almost-kiss at the top of the tree and I’m suddenly grateful for the darkness hiding my blush. “What do you mean?”

           “You killing that goblin,” he practically gushes, “that was incredible!”

           I shrug.  “Goblins are stupid, it wasn’t exactly difficult.”

           “Exactly. Imagine if we’d teamed up years ago, the Insidious Humdrum would be long gone by now.”

           “How boring our lives would be.”

           “We wouldn’t have to be enemies.”

           I look down at my legs.  “We’d still have to be enemies.”

           “We could be unlikely friends.”

           “No we couldn’t.”

           He glances at me carefully.  “Maybe not,” he agrees after a pause.

           Maybe he could be alright with friends, but I don’t know if I ever could.

           Fuck the Families.  Fuck the Mage.  Fuck the roles we’ve been given and the parts we have to play.  Fuck it all.  I just want you, Simon Snow.



           “Why did you have to write that letter today?”

           I don’t know if I’m shivering from the cold or the question, or both.  “I’ve already told you why.”

           “Why couldn’t you have written it tomorrow?”

           I cast him a sideways glance.  “You know that April Fool’s Day isn’t the one designated day of the year that I’m able to lie to you, right?  Saying it any other day wouldn’t make it true.”

           “If it were true,” he says slowly, “today would be the perfect day to say it without the risk of being taken seriously, right?”

           I shrug carefully.  “I suppose.”



           He looks me right in the eye.  “Did you mean it?”

           I hold his gaze.  “Why are you expecting the truth?”

           “Because I trust you.”

           “That’s right, I’d forgotten.”

           He waits expectantly.

           “It doesn’t matter what I say,” I sigh, “you won’t believe me.”  It’s the grave I’ve dug myself.


           I don’t answer, just meet his eyes.

           “Did you ever consider,” he murmurs, “even for a moment, the possibility that your letter would mean something to me?”

           I don’t speak, I can’t.

           “Or that maybe my note wasn’t a prank?”

           I gulp.  “The thought crossed my mind, but it was too ridiculous to entertain.”

           He shifts fractionally closer but I can already feel the energy start to crackle between us.  “It’s not that ridiculous.”

           “What are you saying?”

           Simon’s eyes are dark like indigo, his hair framed by the moon behind him.  “I think…”

           I can’t breathe as I wait for him to finish.


I don’t know if I can say it.  Writing it down is one thing, but saying it face-to-face, and this close…

           Baz’s eyes are silver, illuminated by the moon behind me.



“Do you know why I woke you from the nightmares?” he says suddenly, and I want to slap him for changing the subject.  (And then kiss his cheek.)  (And then kiss his mouth.)

           “Because I was keeping you from your beauty rest?”

           “Because you were scared, and… it hurt me to see you hurting like that.”

           He won’t look at me again, and I want to take his chin in my hand and make him meet my eye, but I stay still and wait.

           “When you had the nightmares,” he eventually continues, “you didn’t just say no a lot.”

           I already know where this is going.  “What else did I say?”

           “My name.  Simon.”

           Figures.  “I was afraid of that,” I nod.

           “Can I ask what you were dreaming about?”

           It takes a long time for me to answer.  “I had to kill you.”

           “And did you?”

           Just the thought brings tears to my eyes.

           “You don’t have to…”

           “Yes.  I did.” He’s silent as I take a ragged breath. “That’s why it’s my worst nightmare. I know I’ve been told all my life that I have to kill you, but if it ever really came to it, I want to think that I’d be brave enough to refuse.  But in my nightmares, I always give in.  Sometimes you kill me at the same time, and then at least I know I won’t have to carry on living in a world without you…”

“After I woke you,” he says a minute later, his voice getting quieter and quieter, “I hated myself for what I’d done to you.  I wanted to comfort you, to hold you until you fell asleep again, but I was too afraid.  When I walked away, it was like someone was ripping a piece out of me, and then I hated myself even more.  I thought the feeling would go away, but it didn’t.”  He looks me in the eye, and he looks terrified.  “It still hasn’t.”

He’s only inches away.  There’s tears in his eyes to match mine.  

“I think…” Simon moves even closer, “I think I meant what I wrote.”

My heart goes quiet, but I’ve never felt more alive.

“I know,” I whisper, “that I meant what I wrote.”

It’s taking everything in me right now not to fall against him.

I don’t miss his eyes as they flicker to my mouth and back up. When he speaks it’s less than a breath. “May I…”


He takes a handful of my shirt and pulls me down to him.


Baz tastes like citrus and wood smoke and I’m immediately lost in the scent.  His mouth is softer than I could have imagined and I want to be gentle, to move slowly, but I can’t stop myself from opening his mouth with mine.  I feel his sigh vibrate against my chin as I deepen the kiss and oh, it’s not enough.  I want to hear every sound he has, to explore every inch of him, to stay here forever discovering.  I know right now that I’ll never get enough.


Simon kisses me like he’s starving, like he can’t get enough, yet he’s gentle.  His mouth is slow and deep, and my hand is in his curls before I even know what I’m doing, angling his head and moving slow, like we have nothing but time.  The tears are spilling over from my eyes and I can feel the moisture of his own tears on his cheeks, but we’re both kissing through our grins, giddy and desperate for more.


Breaking away from him is like pulling the plug on life support, but he stays no more than a breath away.

“Are you shaking?” I whisper.

“It’s cold up here, Simon,” he murmurs back.  “Not everyone has an internal furnace like you apparently do.”

I grin and wrap my wings around the two of us.  “Call me that again.”

He presses a gentle kiss to my mouth.  “Simon,” he breathes, and I can’t stop myself from pulling him in again.

Baz keeps whispering my name between kisses, and I keep falling more and more in love with him.