and all sorts


Carried to her coronation in an open chair, enormously overweight and virtually an invalid at thirty-seven, Anne could congratulate herself that she had survived to see this day. She had betrayed her father, cast doubts upon her brother’s [James Francis Edward’s] birth, quarreled with her sister, resented her brother-in-law, lied and dissimulated, ruined her health to provide an heir to the crown. Now she had no children and ignored her brother’s right, despite promises made to her father. But she had the crown. Maureen Waller

A Request:

Recently, I was given a silly fanfiction prompt (which I don’t believe has ever happened before), and I actually quite enjoyed writing it. Would anyone out there in the ether be interested in providing me a few more? Dragon Age-themed, of course, but beyond that, I am open to most things, whether Solas-centric or otherwise.

Though of course, in the spirit of this blog, Solas shenanigans would be ideal.

I just feel like writing this evening, and would love an idea or two.

… Or twelve.

I love how shocked people here get when they ask if I’ve ever been to a certain place in Florida, and I tell them no. I can’t tell if they don’t realize that not all American’s have enough money to afford to travel a lot, or if they just don’t realize how fucking BIG the states are. No, I haven’t been to Key West, that’s like a good 8 hour drive south from my mom’s house, at least. Oh, have I been skiing before? Someone else you met who lived in a place where it doesn’t snow was able to go north on ski trip vacations? That’s nice, my family owned a restaurant. Small business owners don’t typically get to take their families on fancy vacations out of state.

My (very big) Bellarke fic tbr pile

These are fics I’ve found but haven’t read yet.. Probably because I got distracted by another fic. It’s been in my drafts for a while, because that’s where I keep it so I don’t lose them.. I don’t know why I just don’t bookmark them tbh. I just find this easier.. So I thought I might as well share it.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

*clears throat* Ahem! If you ladies had opened up matchups for the mm group, I'd still hope y'all paired me up with you two😘 ~HN

I will always pair you with me because you’re the sweetest and i love you so much i cant imagine not having you in my life my dear hair nonnie, we can be the owners of the Cool Hair Squad™ ٩(♡ε♡ )۶ ~Admin 404 

I’m a little of a slut,,, I pair myself with everyone,, kIDDING YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE FOR ME HAIR NONNIE <3 pls braid my hair forever i love u ^^ ~ 626

wraite replied to your post: I really find it interesting that the study of AI…

to be fair, the studies of human biology have been continuing for centuries. theres probably just a lot let to improve/discover

Yeah no I mean like that people would want improved omnics, y’feel me?
Like 30 years ago the omnics royally fucked up everyone and it was only thanks to Overwatch that humanity wasn’t turned into organic batteries.

The first guy to have gotten up and said “You know the murderbots? We should make them better.” probably got his ass kicked a little.

And 30 years isn’t really that long a time, especially considering that the god programs are still around, a constant reminder that they couldn’t even kill the damn things and had to lock them up somewhere safe.

And Numbani is pretty pro-omnic, but to have that much positive press about someone who’s improving on AI technology, when that worked so well the last time, is a little odd.

Added to that there’s the second omnic crisis already on in countries like Russia, and who knows why D.Va has to fight some ginormous underwater omnic every few years.

I feel like Blizzard didn’t really think all the way through how omnics and related technology would be seen by society as a whole? There are some interesting starting points there - England being decidedly anti-omnic and probably a little backwards in their omnic rights, and Numbani being the opposite of that - but there still should be some overall tension.

rowana-renee  asked:

How many cookies would it take to bribe you into telling me a story, Bucky? They're homemade, and any story will do.

all of them. i will tell you the story while i wait for all of the cookies.

once upon a time, a little shit decided to go fight nazis. 

usually when i start a story that way, its a steve story. but this time its a me story.

i too fought nazis, my friend, and it was not fun at all.  it turns out nazis dont like being fought, and will fight back. this caused us a great deal of stress and trenchfoot. 

as you may or may not know, my nazi fighting buddies were called the howling commandoes. we had a reputation as being ‘howling mad’ which most people assumed is where our name came from. 

it is not.

so shortly after we’d signed up as steves unit, we got sent out on a sort of breaking-in mission. it was supposed to be a pretty routine just-behind-enemy-lines gig, mostly to see how we’d do as a team. at that point, we were the first ‘integrated’ squad under american command, so they wanted to be sure we were up to snuff. basically they sent us a few miles into a relatively lightly-fortified occupied area to blow up a few supply trucks. it went pretty smoothly. we were still getting to know each other, a bit. we’d met in the hydra camp in austria and bonded pretty well there but it wasnt like we were sitting around doing icebreaker questions. so on that first mission we spent a lot of time chatting, getting a better feel for each other as people. like summer camp, but with more potential for death, and shooting of nazis, explosions, and overgrown science experiments in spangly pants. 

so maybe not like summer camp at all.  i wouldnt know, i never went to summer camp. 

anyways, we blew up the supply trucks and we were headed back towards base when we came across a nice little stream. most of us were pretty dirty, so we agreed to take a few minutes, strip down and wash up. the area we were in was supposed to be secure; it was a slightly disputed border area, but it had been safely in allied hands for months. probably it wasn’t the smartest call, but sometimes you get dirt places you never wanted dirt and are willing to literally risk death to get rid of that dirt. 

we left our gear in a little stand of trees on the far side of the stream and washed up. 

at this point, dumdum dougan was establishing his reputation as the Toughest Guy Ever, which was a rough gig when one of your squadmates is captain america, who literally walks off bullet wounds like a moron. nevertheless, dumdum had the mustache and was determined to be the manliest man around, so when the rest of us got in, clean, and back out as fast as we could manage, because the water was freezing, dumdum decided to prove how macho he was by pretending he wasnt cold at all, and the rest of us were wimps. 

naturally, the rest of us thought he was ridiculous. we were all pretty much dressed and good to go, and dumdum was still sitting in an ice-cold stream in april, bragging about how tough he was. i, being a little shit, covertly suggested we play a little prank. 

so the rest of us finished gearing up, then grabbed his things and started running. his pack, his gun, his boots…all his clothes except his hat, which was hanging off the handle of a knife he’d stuck in the tree. we knew he’d stop to get the hat, and that gave us a head start.

as soon as we started running, dumdum came out of the stream after us, and as expected, stopped to get his hat and knife. we had a decent head start, and he was yelling at the top of his lungs after us. we were all laughing our heads off, because he looked like a complete idiot, running after us brandishing a knife, in nothing but a bowler hat. 

unbeknownst to us, a nazi squad had been sneaking through the woods ahead of us, and were setting up an ambush on one of our transport trucks. they were all tucked away in the underbrush, waiting for the transport to get close enough, and had just popped out of the shrubbery and fired their first couple shots.

which was approximately when a ragtag-looking, still-wet group of cackling maniacs led by the bastard child of paul bunyan and lady liberty burst out of the treeline, being chased by an angry naked man in a bowler hat with a knife. 

there was a very long moment when everyone stopped shooting at everyone else and stared at us. 

and then everyone went back to shooting at everyone else.  but the ambush was angled to ensnare the transport coming up the road. we came from behind them, and they had pretty much no cover from our angle. as soon as we realized we’d run into a combat zone, we dropped the gear and started shooting. steve used the dinner platter of justice and cleared out about four nazis at once, and dumdum got the worlds unluckiest nazi with his knife. poor guy. there’s not a whole lot worse than your last sight on earth being a naked dumdum dougan.

 we’d unintentionally provided a perfect distraction, and the transport had time to regroup and return fire. between us, the ambush was taken care of in a few minutes. 

but the thing was, we’d broken protocol by stopping to wash up, and as a shiny new unit still on probation, the last thing we wanted was to tell anyone what had actually happened. 

so instead we told them that we’d known about the ambush and had decided to provide a distraction, and were just crazy enough that we thought the best way to do that was run howling straight into it. dumdum’s nudity was explained as a personal preference: the man just likes fighting nazis naked, sir, and you cant say it wasnt effective??

naturally, the story went everywhere and got bigger each time it was told. probably we should have gotten in tons of trouble but the story was such a morale booster that they let it slide. 

and thats why we were called the howling commandoes. 

When you voice your support for Donald Trump, you are telling my black professor that he is inherently dangerous and should be stopped and frisked.

When you voice your support for Donald Trump, you are telling my transgendered sister that she is inherently dangerous and should not be allowed to pee in her prefered bathroom.

When you voice your support for Donald Trump, you are telling my gay scenes partner that he should not be allowed to marry his boyfriend of several years (despite Trump himself being on his third wife).

When you voice your support for Donald Trump, you are telling my Muslim lab partner that she should not be allowed to enter the country because the 1.6 billion in the world who share her faith are terrorists.

When you voice your support for Donald Trump, you are telling my Latino coworker that he should not have been allowed to enter the country because his countrymen are rapists and murderers.

When you voice your support for Donald Trump, you are telling my doctor husband that he everything he learned in medical school was wrong, that he is either stupid or a liar, and either way he is willfully giving your children autism every time he vaccinates them.

When you voice your support for Donald Trump, you are telling my disabled uncle that his disability is grounds for mockery.

When you voice your support for Donald Trump, you are telling me that I am not intelligent enough to make my own decisions regarding my reproductive system.

When you voice your support for Donald Trump, you are telling the world that you are racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, xenophobic, and probably sophophobic.

If you do not think that’s who you are, if you truly believe that those words do not define you, then you need to seriously reevaluate your endorsement and what you plan on doing tomorrow.


While rummaging through a box he found in the attic, England uncovers some old photos, along with old memories.

(These took so long to make, I hope you guys like them! I was trying to put subtle stuff in the photos to try and tell a story, I’ve never done it before so it was good practice! I might end up writing something for this if I decide to stop being lazy.)

“Am I at ninety-four yet?”

Neil asked.

He was not at ninety-four. Ninety-four was the whispered words, “Thank you. You were amazing.” They echoed inside Andrew’s head over and over, like they were an offering, a prayer, a goodbye, like they were pushed out of his body with his dying breath. It was irritating and he was going to bring it up on the bus. He was going to spell it out nice and slow how Neil needed to stop living like he was dying and start living like the exy junkie he was.

Ninety-five was turning around and seeing nothing. Not nothing in the sense that Neil was nothing, but nothing in the sense of panic, of worry, of standing on the edge of the rooftop looking down thinking “Would it hurt if I fell?” The space where Neil should have been filled with emotions that Andrew swore he would never feel again.

Ninety-six was finding his bag. It wasn’t the bag that held his entire life, that was locked away in the Fox Tower, safe. It was the bag that held his future. A future he knew Neil wanted in the way he clutched the key he gave him back in August. A key that was left in the God forsaken bag with Neil nowhere in sight.

For ninety-seven, Kevin was there. The other foxes were there too but the words Kevin formed with his breath passing over his voice box and the movements of his tongue and jaw, were the only things that mattered. Kevin’s mouth moved, sound traveled in vibrations through the air, hit Andrew’s eardrums, and then his hands were around Kevin’s neck. There were lies and half-truths and Andrew hated those. Again not in the sense he hated Neil but in the sense that he hated the word ‘please’ and ‘misunderstanding’. He hated how he didn’t hate Neil because of all the lies. And for that, ninety-seven.

Ninety-eight was the phone call that Neil had been found.

Ninety-nine was walking through the hotel door and seeing him crumple in agony. It was the hissed “Don’t” as he did his best sooth away the pain. It was the eyes that were Nathaniel’s with hints of Neil peeking out behind his irises. It was the look of a man staring helplessly as the executioner readied the guillotine. It was the words “I’m sorry” like he had something to be sorry for. It was his attitude that no matter how beat up he got, remained impeccably intact. And it was the question he still had the gall to ask: “Am I at ninety-four yet?”

“You are at one hundred.”


Okay guys, this is gonna sound crazy, but what if V was a former protagonist? He seems to know every character’s troubles that you encounter in each of their routes. Your “role” in the game is to heal their troubles, and you were chosen to do so. He thought he could do that, but gave up after realizing he could only save one at a time between resets. So he settles for Rika’s route, and that didn’t turn out so well. He’s not even fazed by you asking if you can “all clear this game.”

On top of that, V is a photographer. What are you doing all game? Collecting CGs. And he tells you to take care of the RFA, which was previously HIS role.

Harry Styles’ new album is going to be earth-shattering. Harry is a perfectionist as we all know. He would never settle for less than a completely new innovation. He is honing his skills as a musician in order to be able to produce something beyond expectations. Judging from his widely varied collaborators, this album may very well define what music in this new century should sound like.

Harry Styles’ new album is going to shock the world. That is what fans need to hear. This album is going to be better than what music fans have become all too accustomed to. This isn’t some prefabricated formula for songwriting. It isn’t going to be something five young boys had to rush through with three months to write and record. Harry is stepping as far away from that kind of writing as possible to give fans the music they deserve.