I don’t actually ship Geno/Death…but this kinda happened :/ silly little doodle. Reaper Sans would enjoy his job too much…

Eye and mouth opening ceremony, usually performed by the highpriest in an anubis mask - allowing the body to see and talk in the underworld

Anubis info.

Anubis is a god of mummification, and acts as a guide for souls to the underworld or enternal life - he weighs your heart against the feather of truth, and if it overbalances the feather your heart will be thrown to Ammut, a beast that eats hearts -dooming you to an enternal death.

reaper!sans belongs to @renrink

geno!sans belongs to @loverofpiggies

Pharaohverse belongs to @otherangela

i have a weird relationship with new year’s resolutions because the cynical side of me is exhausted and exasperated with the whole idea - i always lose track of mine within a month or two and then feel shitty afterwards for not being committed/serious enough to follow through, along with 99% of other people who make them. but then on the other hand, i think it’s so beautiful that every single year so many people (with varying amounts of seriousness, i know) reaffirm that they do want to be better, somehow. even if it’s never worked before, they want to try again, to give it one more go. idk, i think there’s something so important about that. 

if my eyerolling and self-deprecation ever overbalances to the point where i don’t even bother trying to believe i can be better, i’ll know something’s gone wrong. 

anyway the POINT of this post was to ask yall what your resolutions are, if you’re making any! i’m always curious and i want to be inspired! 

so who wants to see the mess i typed to @bichaelwheeler regarding BYELER HEIGHT DIFFERENCE?!?!

  • imagine will having to stand up on his tippy toes to press a soft, sweet kiss against mike’s lips, but he overbalances and stumbles forward against mike’s chest instead and mike catches him, stumbling slightly back himself. he holds onto will for balance but they end up falling backward onto the floor in a giggling heap - a pile of silly boy laughter, warm, blushing cheeks and soft, secret smiles saved just for one another
  • will wearing one of mike’s long sleeved striped shirts with the sleeves falling over his hands in the most adorable way. mike just sighs and smiles as he sneaks his hands into the opening of the sleeves to wrap his fingers around will’s. he leans down to place a kiss against the top of will’s head and will snuggles into mike’s chest with a content little sigh. mike just rests his cheek against the soft, floral-scented nest of will’s hair and wraps his arms around him while will measures his breathing to the steady beat of mike’s heart.
min yoongi probably.....
  • Seokjin: *tries to slap namjoon's ass as he walks past*
  • Seokjin: *misses*
  • Seokjin: *trips*
  • Seokjin: *falls*
  • Namjoon: *tries to catch jin*
  • Namjoon: *overbalances*
  • Namjoon: *tries to grab chair to stop his fall*
  • Chair: *breaks*
  • Namjoon: *falls on top of jin*
  • Yoongi: *watching mournfully from the sidelines* it's like watching two animals do an out-of-sync and very destructive mating dance
Best Friends Forever - Taehyung/V angst

Originally posted by jeonsshi

Hello I’m back

“Tae, can I talk to you?” you asked from your position on the sofa crammed in the corner of the practise room. He didn’t hear you at first; he was too busy trying to perfect a step.

Jimin was flopped on the floor, looking up at the younger boy closely to make sure he didn’t go wrong anywhere or overbalance and hurt himself.

Taking a deep breath, you stood up and started again, taking a few steps closer.

“Tae,” you said, making his head move up to meet your gaze through the reflection of the mirror. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

He shook his head immediately and you shrunk into yourself a bit. “Not right now, Y/N, I really have to get this bit down.”

“Oh, okay. Afterwards?”

“Probably not; I’m going straight to bed after this.”

“Ew, what? You gotta shower first.” Jimin interjected from the floor and Tae shrugged, taking up the starting position from the previous step.

“I’ll shower in the morning.”

“That’s gross - you’ll have sweaty bedsheets.”

As the two boys continued their arguing, you stepped backwards and turned to leave the studio.

“See you tomorrow.” you called after you as you left. Jimin waved in your direction.

“Bye, Y/N!” Tae yelled.


“So, did you tell him?” your best friend asked you and you sighed into your phone.

“No, I didn’t get a chance to. I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh. Well, how many days have you got left? Until the end of the week, right?”

“Yeah.” you answered, chewing your thumb nail.
“You have plenty of time to tell him until then, don’t worry.”

“But what if I can’t tell him? He’s really, really busy lately and he doesn’t have the time to talk to me at all, let alone help me out. I’m really stressed out about this.”

“Don’t be. It’ll all fall into place, okay?”

“How do you know?” you sighed, falling backwards onto your bed and staring up at your dark bedroom ceiling.

“I’ll be honest, I don’t. How much more do you need until you can get your own place?”

“Not that much; it’ll take me only about two weeks to earn it from my job. I just don’t have anywhere to stay for that last week.”

“Agh, I wish I could do something. You’re being evicted for God’s sake! I feel so useless all the way over here.”

“Don’t, you’re being my moral support. It’s invaluable,” you yawned. “Well, I’m going to go to sleep. Goodnight!”

“Goodnight, Y/N. Don’t worry about a thing!”


“I don’t know, Y/N… He’s in a pretty rough mood…” Jungkook said at the front door, not meeting your eyes and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“What do you mean?” you questioned. “Listen, Jungkook, I really need to talk to him.”

“No, I mean it, Y/N. He’s not in the right frame of mind. You’d be better to come back tomorrow when he’s rested more and isn’t trying to kill everything that moves.”

“What the hell? What’s wrong with him?”

“We don’t know,” Namjoon walked up to front door and shifting Jungkook away, the youngest disappearing into the dorm. “But Jungkook is right; you probably shouldn’t be here right now.”

“Oppa, please, this is really serious. Can I just go in for five minutes to see hi-”

“No, Y/N,” he said sternly. “Go home now. I’m sorry.”

With that, he shut the door in your face.

What the hell was that?


The next day ended similarly and you were getting progressively more desperate. Even your best friend couldn’t say that everything would be okay; you were getting evicted tomorrow and you had no where to stay at all. Your mother was leaving the city for a few weeks to stay with her sister, as was your father, but you couldn’t leave because you had school. You had to find somewhere in less than twenty four hours and with no friends apart from classmates you didn’t really know and Taehyung, who was too busy for you, you were in serious trouble.

“I’m going to have to be homeless.” you cried, tears streaming down your face.

“No, no, don’t say that! You’ll find something, I know you will.” your best friend said confidently. “Is there a library nearby? You could try and hide in there overnight. It’ll be cold so wrap up warm. Or, is there a twenty-four hour coffee shop near? They’re used to students sleeping there overnight so they won’t be too bothered by you.”

“How the hell do you know all this?”

“It’s been rough. So, are you gonna try this?”

“I… There’s no harm in trying. I haven’t seen any twenty-four hour coffee shops so I’ll go to the campus library. There are toilets there too.”


You had been sleeping at the library for three days after you had finally been kicked out of your apartment. Tae and you hadn’t spoken at all and you had only caught glimpses of him rushing somewhere. Even though you knew he hadn’t had any part in it, and it wasn’t his fault for ignoring you, you couldn’t help but feel neglected. You expected him to at least try to text you to see how you were or if you were okay but you had gotten nothing. Except for the calls from your best friend to check in on you and the regular messages from each parent making sure you were alive, your phone was completely silent.

Fuck him, basically.

On the fourth day, you decided that you deserved a coffee and somewhere warm to sit whilst you did some work, so you made your way to the coffee shop that was just outside of campus.

Settling into your chair at your table of choice next to the window, you sipped on your hot beverage and flipped your notebook open, brows furrowing as your tried to discern the messy scribble of your notes.

You had been sitting there peacefully for the last ten minutes when the door was slammed open, sending a wave of cold air washing over you, catching your attention so you could glare irritably at the unwelcome newcomer.

However, just as your face formed a glare, it was gone as soon as your saw who it was and the strange mixture of relief and anger mixed on their face as they stormed towards you.

“T-Taehyung?” you stuttered as he grabbed your arm and heaved you out of your seat, frog-marching you towards the door. “What the fu- Let go of me!”

You struggled in his grip but his hands were holding onto you for dear life and you couldn’t get him off you, no matter how hard you tried to pry him off.

“Taehyung!” you cried, ignoring all of the stares from the other customers in the café.

However, he remained completely silent until you had left the building and even then, he walked a few paces from the entrance and gently pushed you against the wall of the café, barring your exit by resting his hands on the wall on either side of your head.

“Where have you been?” he asked and you were surprised at the softness and raw emotion in his voice; a stark contrast from his dark expression.

“Why do you care?” you snapped, your glare not wavering even as you stared deep into those eyes that you loved so much.

“What are you talking about? Of course I care, you’re my best friend!”

“Are you?”


“Taehyung, I’ve been gone for over a week and you haven’t noticed until now? And you call yourself my best friend.” you scoffed, crossing your arms angrily over your chest.

“Do you know how scared I’ve been?” he whispered and you were caught off guard when his eyes began to fill up.


“When you left the studio that day, I knew I should have gone after you but I didn’t think much of it. I just thought you’d come back the next day, but you didn’t. You didn’t come the day after that either and when I was given time to think, my thoughts were constantly on you; where were you? What were you doing? You were always around and I felt so lonely when you weren’t.”

“That doesn’t explain why you didn’t come and look for me, Taehyung.” You said, voice softer than it had been, but arms still crossed securely, defending yourself from him.

“I tried to! God, Y/N, I tried so hard, but they wouldn’t let me! It was practise, practise, practise! I’m supposed to be practising now but I said I had to go to the bathroom and I ran straight out of the building to your apartment but the woman next door said that you had moved out!”

He was beginning to get hysterical now, his cheeks colouring red and his eyes wide.

“You had moved out and I had no idea where you were! I was so scared, I thought you had left me completely and I was too busy to listen to you!”

Tears were beginning to stream down his face as his voice became distorted from his panic and sorrow. His hands left the wall on either side of your head and reached down to unfold your arms, clutching tightly onto both of your hands in his and bringing them to his chest.

“Where have you been, Y/N? Where did you go?” he asked, one hand leaving the bundle to rest on your cheek. You exhaled lightly, leaning into his touch, closing your eyes momentarily before opening them and looking up into his again. They were red-rimmed and slightly puffy as well as slightly glassy from the remaining moisture.

“I’ve been… I was… I was e-evicted.”

He didn’t move for a solid thirty seconds and you were beginning to get uncomfortable with the intensity of the gaze so you tried to move away but his grip tightened on your hands and face.

His eyes just stared into yours, a whole flurry of emotions flashing across his beautiful orbs at a pace you couldn’t keep up with. The two of you just stared at each other, desperately, until;

“Move in with me.”


“What?” you gasped. His face held no hint of a lie, or a joke.

“Move in with me.” His voice was deadly serious and he showed no signs of changing his mind.

“W-What? Taehyung, be serious-”

“I am being serious. You’re my best friend, Y/N. You mean the world to me. If I have to fall out with management to ensure you won’t be living on the streets, so be it.” He let go of your face, reaching down to gather both of your hands and clasping them against his chest. “Move in with me.”

Was he insane? Did he actually put any thought into this at all? Like, any? Not only would his managers wholly disagree with the arrangement, you would have to share everything with seven boys. There was already no room as it was and you would be intruding. You would be alone a lot of the time as they had schedule’s and you would get hate and backlash off all the fans. It just didn’t make any sense. No way. You couldn’t.

“You act as if I give you a choice,” He muttered, turning away whilst keeping one hand firmly glued to yours, tugging you back inside the café. “Coffee’s on me. We have a lot to talk about.”

fighting over the remote zimbits

@des-zimbitswanted fic and their writing has always brought me happiness so my never-written-romance ass decided You Know What Would Be a Good Idea

Fuck– Bits–”

Bitty scrambles over the back of the couch, grinning like a loon and hitting the floor with a thump and a “whoop!” He has to dart back a little when Jack sticks his head over the edge, the ice-blue thunder in his eyes belied by the growing silly grin on his face, and when Jack takes a swipe at the remote held victoriously in Bitty’s hand he overbalances and takes the entire couch with him.

Bitty winces reflexively at the clatter, but– this is not his proudest moment– he still tucks the remote behind his back before he scoots up to check on his boyfriend.

“Jack? You all right?”

Keep reading

Okay but the ABSOLUTE CATASTROPHE that would be Pharah climbing out of a swimming pool.

Come on with Overwatch’s funding and all those Watchpoints, there’s one that has its own probably-indoor pool. And because that would be a nice, open, well-lit common area it’s probably where the team ends up hanging out a lot.

And honestly not warning them is just fucking rude, Pharah.

Mercy happens to glance up from a late lunch at the sound of splashing and then her brain just sort of stops working and she stares for a good five minutes with her fork frozen halfway to her mouth.

Zarya turns to see what she’s looking at, gets distracted, overbalances and flips her deck chair over.

Mei is beet red and determinedly pretending to read but is in fact peeking over the top of her book.

Satya reflexively tries to crush an idle hard-light creation but forgot it was half-formed already and breaks a finger.

D.va straight-up stops watching where she’s going, slips on wet tile and faceplants into a fucking pillar.

And then Lena RUINS IT by cheerfully wolf-whistling and Mercy tries to smack her lightly but forgot her hands were full and ends up stabbing her in the face with a fork.

Look. Look. I love her. I love her a lot. But. This post was originally about Zarya stepping out of the showers but that didn’t work. Know why? Because Zarya knows the effect she has on innocent bystanders when dripping wet and wearing very little clothing. Fareeha Amari is ridiculously, unfairly attractive, somehow oblivious to what this does to people, and needs to be more careful before she fucking kills someone.

What about flipping who the Winter Soldier is?

Just, think about it.

I had this vague idea for a fic where Steve falls from the train

Not because he’s thrown off

But because he overbalances to throw Bucky back inside

So he saves Bucky at the expense of his own life

And they send people to look for him (it is Captain America who fell, after all), while Bucky goes on with the time-sensitive attack to the Skull’s base.

So Bucky goes down with the plane thinking that Steve is somewhere, out there, hanging on (because it’s Steve and because he’s been made in something more than human) and with rescuers on the way.

And he thinks that he doesn’t want to die and that it’s unfair that Steve saved him only for Bucky to have to die to crash the plane and he tries to send the coordinates but he doesn’t manage to and his last thoughts before he hits the ground are of bitterness and rage.

And then he wakes up, in a fake hospital, in the future.

And Steve wasn’t found.

They never found his body, they think he might have ended up buried by an avalanche or something.

And all he can think of doing is taking up the good fight, because Steve would have gone on fighting and Bucky can’t think of anything else he wants to do than going out fighting and who knows, maybe someone will get in a lucky shot and he will get to see Steve again.

Only he’s too good and slowly, with hardship, he starts moving on from surviving while hoping for death to surviving to living.

And then the Winter Soldier comes into play and he looks so damn familiar and Bucky knows the shape of those shoulders, that shoulder to waist ratio, no matter how much they try to hide it but it isn’t, it cannot be, his eyes are playing tricks on him.

And the mask comes off.


“Who the hell is Steve?”

Just think about it.

[The Halfling Rouge rolls a Nat1 on his attack. I am the DM and manage to talk the player out of using the reroll.]

DM: You run up to the Cultist and lunge at him with your rapier, but miss. And, given that you are holding a long heavy steel blade in your completely extended hand, you-

Rouge (OOC): No, don’t you dare-!

DM (gleefully): - you overbalance, topple forwards, and land on your face. The Cultist cackles at you.

Party Wizard (OOC): I laugh at him as well.

Rouge (OOC): I am NEVER letting you talk me into not rerolling again!

toon zelda. toon ganondorf. toon sheik. skyward sword impa. make them all smash characters. i dont care that loz would have an insane overbalance of representation its nintendos best series so like fuck you

I went canoeing with my parents and sister last week and I couldn’t stop imagining Derek and Stiles in a canoe together, bickering about going the right way and just:

“Damn it, Derek, you’re not supposed to push that hard!”

“You weren’t complaing about me pushing hard last night.”  

“What- that’s not-" 

"Shut up and paddle, Stiles." 


"God, I am regretting my life choices right now." 

"You love me.”

“No, I don’t." 


"Oh my god, you look like a wet puppy!" 

"Stop the dog jokes, Stiles." 


And then Stiles overbalances and they fall into the water together and Derek’s glaring at Stiles, who’s just laughing and then he pushes Derek against the side and says, “Don’t be such a sourwolf.”

And then he kisses him.

@constilesations if you wanna add?



Made with Vine
London Spy and the trope of the tragic homosexual

(This is a response from pennypaperbrain to “When gayness isn’t a joke,” some thoughts of mine on London Spy. Tumblr in its infinite wisdom has made it impossible to edit a reblog so that you don’t have to scroll through the entire original post, so I’ve just cut-and-pasted here. Hope that’s okay.)

I was very interested to read this, because personally I feel that so far (episode 3) while many of the individual painful experiences have been well handled, cumulatively they overbalance into grimdark. I’ve only seen it all once, and am observing gay history from my armchair without even having been adult during the first HIV crises, but that was what struck me.

This is a non-spoilery thread so I won’t go into details, but Scottie for example seems to have had nothing *except* stigma-induced/-enhanced suffering in his life. Each of his stories is real, but doesn’t add up to the man we see, who has a nice flat and a club membership whatever else has befallen him. I wish we were getting the harsh stories in a wider context, rather than what currently feels like a race to cram in more and more harsh.

The characters are tragically isolated, when I would expect a balanced depiction of a stigmatised community to focus on that - community - as well as the challenges. Warts and all, community gets minorities through, but there isn’t one here. We just get Mark Gatiss chewing the scenery, an opposition between his bad gay and Danny’s good gay.

I loved the ‘Are you out?’ moment because it was a prosaic meld of hope and caution, so it really did pull the viewers out of that ‘Are you gay?’ (are you one of those poor stigmatised specimens?) headspace into the context of normal humans just trying to get by in the situation life’s handed them. I don’t think most of the rest of the show lives up to it, though.

Give me Blue references over gay jokes or an erasure of history any time, but if I was so inclined I could have sat back in my armchair at the end of ep 3 thinking ‘Those poor tragic gays, I do hope my son doesn’t turn out to be one,’ unchallenged. Not entirely, but for the majority of the time London Spy feels to me like a throwback to the time when just getting people to realise gay men deserved an ordinary level of human consideration was the battle. Maybe I’m naive and it still is, just not in my personal London-dwelling bubble.

PFG responds:

You’re right, Penny, so far London Spy looks an awful lot like just another tale of lonely, doomed gay men. But it is a spy story, after all, not a domestic drama or a romance. It’s going to be about crime, danger, intrigue, and the secrets of individuals and nations. (There are no happy spy stories, really, unless you go the campy-Bond route.) But I think your point about community can’t be overstated: Danny and Scotty are terribly isolated, and club culture, both of the dancing and sherry-sipping sort, doesn’t have to be destructive or stultifying. Danny and Scotty’s cross-generational relationship allows for interesting reflection on recent gay history, but yes, it can feel like a throwback.  (The show does another sketchy thing, too, when it links homophobia to a fear of kink, so that homosexuality is as sick as it is kinky, and kink=death.)

In short, I agree with everything you say here, and I can only hope the last two episodes mitigate the tragic-gay aspect. Your response makes clear to me that my post was motivated more in answer to Tumblr conversations about queer representation than about London Spy itself. I wrote it after coming across another of those posts saying that if I don’t agree with TJLC, if I don’t think that Gatiss et al secretly intend to make Johnlock canon, then I’m homophobic and blinded by heteronormativity. (x)  I think part of my resentment of TJLC readings is how they sometimes operate in ignorance of the past few decades of gay history. They say they know Gatiss’ attitude toward representation, when they show no awareness of what it was like to live through the AIDS crisis, when “SILENCE=DEATH” was our watchword. I’m sorry, I’d like to think a man who dealt with that is not going to straight-up lie about whether he’s writing a queer show. (x) When I think of “better queer representation,” I don’t think of a six-year tease whose queer subtext is so easy to overlook or deny.** I think of something like London Spy, with an out gay actor playing an out gay character from an out gay creator and writer. Whether or not that representation is “positive,” it’s honest, and unapologetically represents the lived gay experience of its creators without tittering jokes or mind-games.

*Because I know I’ll be asked for my bona fides: I was part of the group that brought ACT-UP to Durham, North Carolina, when Senator Jesse Helms was demanding that PBS be defunded for showing black men kissing. I lost friends to AIDS, and that probably makes me hypersensitive and prone to resentment.

**And because I always have to say this: I SHIP JOHNLOCK.

Quiet descended on her, calm, content, as her needle, drawing the silk smoothly to its gentle pause, collected the green folds together and attached them, very lightly, to the belt. So on a summer’s day waves collect, overbalance, and fall; collect and fall; and the whole world seems to be saying “that is all” more and more ponderously, until even the heart in the body which lies in the sun on the beach says too, That is all. Fear no more, says the heart. Fear no more, says the heart, committing its burden to some sea, which sighs collectively for all sorrows, and renews, begins, collects, lets fall. And the body alone listens to the passing bee; the wave breaking; the dog barking, far away barking and barking.
—  Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway