conquore

8
“Conquor… or Die!” - Megadeth Album Timeline

Created by Minimal-Pulse-Art [minimal-pulse.tumblr.com]

*please do not remove caption*

So much Drama

I think the best part about the whole healer dps debate is.

In Xi if a healer mentioned any style of dps. Trying to heal. They were cruicified as the biggest scrubs. “Healers don’t dps omg don’t waste your mana”

And now here in Xiv it’s the exact opposite.

Granted to vastly different games and styles. XIV is a much more movement and action oriented style. Healers have the capacity to help with dps in xiv. Which is good. Healing in general is a support class. We’re supporting the tanks with heals. We’re supporting the dps with buffs. And we’re occasionally helping with slight added dps.

But. There’s a vast difference between pre-made runs of anything and pick up groups. Then you have to factor in the content. Is it current endgame (3.1 being Savage Alex and ThordanEX) or is it just the tomestone grind of duty roulette.

If it’s endgame. Short answer, yes. Healers should help dps -if able- good healers know when that availability is.

If it’s roulettes. Short answer, it does not fucking matter if they do or not. Sure it can help be slightly faster.

But with the way pug tanks pull thinking they’re the best tanks ever or certain dps not being up to snuff for said pulls. I mean these are randoms. Stance dancing becomes a chore that can, and sometimes will get your party killed. Because it either took to long or the tank got cleaved for one reason or another (dps stance tanking *cough*).

Stance dancing in roulettes is ingrained to be a hassle because the player base makes it so. And a lot of the player who complain about healers not doing enough are the ones who’ve never played a healer in end game content ever. So they don’t realize (or care) just how precicse playing any healer class can be.

Let’s not forget. This is a game to have fun in. No one wants to be on point 24/7. Sometimes you just wanna glare at that health bar and force that bitch back to full. Just keep your party alive.

Now if this was raids. It’s a whole other argument/perspective. Where a lot of the times a healers dps determined a win or wipe. So yeah in that perspective you’re absolutely right.

A lot of this I feel is schs fault.in general.

Good sch’s spoil tanks. Especially bad ones, because they have a lot easier time with heal up keep and dotting. Reason being they have an npc auto cure fairy. And they’re class is basically designed to be a dps i.e. Summoner. So most of their kit is designed around dealing dmg aside from the job abillities obtained at 35-50 at the lvl5 margins and 50-60. Which isn’t a huge kit.

Take Whm/Ast these are from the core designed to be healing jobs(ast with a little bit of super support buffs) and they’re really good at keeping your whole party alive.

Solo healing raids as a whm or ast is a god damn cake walk. Because they’re specifically designed to do that.

So where in lies the actual problem.

The player base. Speed running being a required thing or your bad. The list goes on and on.

I’ve been playing a healer class in mmo’s from xi-xiv for about 15-16 years now. Running with mostly the same crew. So to the core of the mechanics of what a healer can and should be capable of doing I feel I know a littlw about it. I’ve seen every single variation of tank and dps. Raid of pug group none of this is new.

But I think the biggest problem about this particular issue is that players are obssesed with doing things in the absolute optimal time frame.

This is a bad mindset for any mmo period Mmo’s in general are to the core time syncs. They’re meant to take oodles amounts of time and create an enjoyable shared experience between other people.

Problem with that is people suck.
Just play the.damn game and enjoy it.

Don’t bitch about pugs. Especially if its on casual content in roulettes.

If its not raiding it doesn’t matter if healers dps. End of discussion. 24/7 on point healing/dpsing at the same time is not always fun. It’s a chore and unless you’re trying to conquor a specific goal its pointless.

I wanna relax and go through my df. I could care less if it takes 15min or 45mins as long as it gets done and their were no problems along the way.

Get over yourselves people. Have fun with the game.

Am I the only one whose sick of watching Daenerys Targaryen conquor “savage” brown people over and over again?

It got old after the first three times. At the end of the last episode I was completely unimpressed while everyone I was watching with was like “OH MY GOD SO BADASS”

With the dothraki in the beginning, and then the unsullied following her out of the city, that scene where everyone in meereen hoisted her up in a sea of brown like a god, Missandei and Grey Worm being her permanent bitches who owe her for the freedom that they should have had anyway- I’m just over it.

Daily Doodle


Day 6

I am the king of Five Nights at Freddy’s! -Markiplier 2014

A fnaf and markiplier doodle in one! I decided to rewatch his play through of the fnaf series and it gave me some inspiration, albeit late in the day. But here it is, Mark, in his lucky flannel, atop (some of) the animatronics he’s conquored!

anonymous asked:

Erie could not believe the pig sty before her eyes that belonged to one Lutz Bieldschmidt. She knew that the 2p's were the opposites of herself and the other 1p's but she didn't think they were this different! There was old food boxes and clothes everywhere but it was her fault for suggestin she could help Lutz clean and organize his mess of a home. She let out a sigh and tied a mask around her face before diving into the mess she was determined to conquor or get really smelly trying.

Lutz had been grateful for her offer to help him clean. His house was a total mess and he knew that if he just left it, it would never get cleaned. Did he feel guilty? Of course he did. He hadn’t been entirely upfront with Erie when she’d offered her help about just what state she would find his house in, but hey, he needed the help and it looked like she was going to do her best. The German man himself had a garbage bag in hand as he picked up the things he no longer wanted or needed - mostly empty pizza boxes - and threw them out. She’d offered to help him, but that didn’t mean he was about to let her do it all on her own. Even his legendary laziness didn’t stretch that far. “Thanks for offering to help me out, by the way,” he mentioned, smiling winningly at her and hoping she wasn’t mad about how messy the house was, “I couldn’t have done it all on my own.”

@asktheirelandtwins

Season mirror. season Coda

Sorry for my English … Ihope you understand my ideas

A season is composed of a pause after the SF MSF and this requires the writer to give a rhythm to episodes to go crescendo with emotions.

The first episode is an exception because it must begin “in medias res” to hold on to new audiences. This is what we saw in “no sanctuary” Who was the resolution of 4x16.

So the season is divided into two: 5A and 5B
Each party is also divided into two in order to have
5A1 and 5A2 who will answer 5B1and 5B2
So 5A1= 5B1 and 5A2 =5B2

Thus the episodes correspond them through this mirror game:

Then I will explain how we will proceed to guess what it will be later.
We first compare the points in common between 5A1 and 5AB
Finally we will try to solve the mystery of 5B2 by drawing a parallel with 5B2 and the rest of the season.

Keep reading

8

A PICTURE OF DEATH (by wherehaveallthescullysgone.  Inspired by starbucksam).

aka: I Will Fight. 

She had approached life as if invincible. It was neither hubris nor naivety - she simply lent no consideration to the frailty of flesh. She was strong, independent, intelligent and capable. She was a survivor - if anything, the last four years had proved that. 

But whatever she may have believed before, the brilliant horizon of hope and possibility had been darkened with the certainty of uncertainty. 

In the beginning, she regarded the translucent xray film as the picture of death. The tumor was inoperable. Untreatable. It was bomb, fuse lit and unstoppable. The only variable was time. She warred within, the two halves of her taking up arms for control. Skeptic Fighter, screaming for battle, blood, sweat and tears, urging her into combat, versus Doctor Scientist, silently pushing the reality of cancer to the forefront of her thoughts. The inevitable struggle of a mortally-wounded soul - fight heroically to the end? Or conceed defeat and bow out of tragic misfortune. The latter would have been the obvious choice given the evidence in hand. The xray, the science, the horrific image of a dying Penny, struggling for last breaths as the very same demon conquored her. 

Only one thought could end the war - Mulder. More than any fear of death, she feared for him - for what would become of him. He would never accept he was powerless to save her, to protect her. He would blame himself for not being able to stop the demon. For four years, he disregarded himself anytime her safety and well-being had been compromised. He loved her. She was as certain of it as she had ever been of anything. He didn’t need to declare it - somethings a woman just knows. She was as important to him as any truth he had ever dared to seek and she couldn’t bare to think how her death would crush him. The pain only rivaled by the knowledge that she would have to say goodbye - to look into the depths of his hazel eyes and tell him he would have to continue on without her.  

Once again, he gave her the resolve to hold on. She would fight this thing. She was no hero but she would never give up. How many times had Mulder’s strength and courage sustained her? How many times had he appeared out of the darkness, reaching into the black and pulling her back to life? She owed him more than a quiet retreat. She owed him everything - her very life. And she would fight the monster threatening her life now with every breath left in her chest. She would fight for Mulder. She would fight for them both.

Tbh the issue with that and cultural appropriation in general is that it isn’t something that is willingly shared by those who created it.
Like when you fucking commit genocide against a people or conquor them and take their symbols and what they mean then it’s so insensitive to then get that tattooed all over your body. You’re saying “I defeated you, I own this now”

anonymous asked:

prompt: klaus & caroline as royals in different werewolf clans :))))

This will have several parts, but it will not be an entire fic. :)
This thing doesn’t have a name yet. it is also raw and unedited, so excuse the quality.

ACT I Prelude



“Niklaus Mikaelson, son of Mikael Mikaelson, has sent an official letter, announcing his visit later tonight. He is here to ask for your hand, Caroline.”

A heavy silence hung in the room as Bill watched his daughters reaction closely.
Caroline was staring at her father in disbelief, then blinked a few times, as if trying to process the information. She turned her head, letting out an exasperated sigh. After another pause she looked back at her father with obvious annoyance in her features, her nose lightly scrunched in disgust.

“Well, you can tell him that visit is not necessary. I will marry that psychopath over my dead body.”

Bill sighed, leaning back and closing his eyes, placing two fingers on the bridge of his nose as if trying to massage out a headache.

“Caroline, we’ve talked abou this…”

“I am not marrying for politics, dad.”

“These politics are what keep our family safe, Caroline; You know that!”

“The only reason it is in danger in the first place are these ‘politics’!”

“I didn’t have any more choice in this than you!”

“Bullshit! You loved mom since you two were children! I hate that guy. He’s a psychopath, he’s a murderer. He’s a fucking mafia boss!”

“Caroline-”

“Just like you. And for the record: you always have a choice. I have a choice, just like you had a choice. You just don’t like the choice i am making.”

“Caroline, if you don’t marry him, this familie’s life is in danger. We are strong but we are no match to the Mikaelsons.” Billl paused. “Caroline, the choice was made for you before you were born, it is the curse.”

“No dad, it is not the curse. Being a fucking werewolf is crazy enough but it sure as hell is not an excuse to play 16th century royalty gang war well into the 21st century.”

“one is not comparable to the other, care, you know that. human royalty is based on nothing but chance and a little bit of necessary skill. We are different. We are actually stronger than other wolfs, we actually command them just by virue of our blood and they want to serve us, without any of that having to be instilled. you have as much choice in this as they do.”

“No. No, dad, I know you believe that, you have never even tried to go another way. But I do. Because I know that I can make my own in way in the human world that you hate so much, on my own terms. Some life in which i won’t have to marry a serial killer for the sake of the family.”

“Caroline, you are my only daughter, my heir-”

“So I have to marry a guy who isn’t even in line to be the actual heir, prince for a life time, and his father is even worse than him. I know Klaus,” she said. “I won’t marry him.”

“You used to like him.”

“That was when he was a child, before he turned all sadistic murderer and stuff.”

“Caroline, that comes with the business-”

“No, no, it doesn’t, and you know that. I have never done that and i never will.”

“One day you will take over my throne.”

“I refuse. I refuse to take that fucking thone.”

“Caroline, we have been over this-”

“And my answer remains the same.”

“This is futile. The party will arrive at six. I expect you to be ready tonight, wear something that compliments you.”

“Oh trust me, I will be on my best behaviour.”


She sighed, closing her eyes again as she shifted her legs on the sofa.
She remembered the conversation in vivid detail. She was glad her father hadn’t noticed, again.

Hiding things had become a second nature to her, since she was essentially living a double life, with all the anachronistic werwolf clan bullshit her parents forced onto her. It had taken long enough for her to realize that she was not actually a princess and this was not the dream life she had imagined as a little girl.

The truth was that she was prepared to leave, both mentally and technically. It was only a matter of fifteen days until she would vanish and become a new person, new name, new passport, new birth certificate, new life. Until then, she would need to keep her parents in the impression she was to stay here. Suddenly being a-okay with becoming the werewolf equivalent of Kate Middleton would have been utterly uncharacteristic, so going with her direct emotional reactions when talking to them would give a familiar enough impression for them not to catch onto anything.

But adding Klaus to the equation was whole other deal.

Just another reason to run. But actually, a lot more than that. Hiding a secret is easy. Hiding a secret you hadn’t be expected to be brought up out of the blue on top of that was something else.

She sighed again. Ironically, trying to escape her parents pity werewolf manipulation politics meant she had to play their game well enough to fool them. Not that it had been hard at all to learn that, given her control issues had already gifted her with sufficient insights into manipulation. Just like her father.
It’s in my blood, after all. She shook her head as if to shake away the thought.
It may be but that doesn’t change anything. I can still go another way.
Her genetic heritage might perfectly suit ­a werewolf gang leader, but it also enabled her to be excellent at other parts of life. She basically already had her degree, even though she was still just 21.

All of that was expected and decided already, she was just running in circles. Currently, she had expected to be learning how to wait. Instead, now, there was Klaus.

Klaus asking her father for her hand.

Technically, she would now not only be fleeing the potential of being married off, she would be fleeing a fiance. Klaus. As her fiance.

It was too ironic to be true. Her chest felt like it was about to cave in on its own in just about a moment. As if everything that she had once liked about her old life just came back to taunt her, to try to keep her here.

No, Klaus was a psychopath. A monster. She knew that. She made herself remember.

Twelve year old Klaus boasting about his ‘first job’. His first kill. His eyes lit up with pride, her legs almost caving in in horror. Another brief image flashes by.
Nine year old Klaus, being slapped in the face by his father, so hard that he fell to the floor because of the impact.

As if by instict, her mind tried to flee the memories and the feelings attached to it, but she forced herself to remember. Klaus had once had potential, he had once had an option. But he had still been a child. And he had made the wrong choices. And now it was too late, far too late.

It had been one of the major fences to climb, in her mind, in order to realize in what sort of cult she had grown up. Klaus was a lost cause. His sister Rebekah was a lost cause, Finn, Elijah, Kol, Katherine, Jenna, Damon, Stefan… they were all lost causes. The list was endless, all these people she had grown up with had succumbed to the allure of the darkness. Whether it was stockholm-syndrom, sociopathy or narcisissm, they all had a multitude of reasons to stay right were they were. And that meant, out of her life in fifteen days.

She forced herself not to think of his face or his voice, to think of any of this anymore. She would have to play along, like she would have a year ago, spiteful, but never actually making any consequences happen. Like a dog that barks but doesn’t bite. Simple as that.

She busied herself with getting ready. In character, she chose to wear a very inappropriately causal set of jeans to a top and a jeans jacket. Klaus would consider her beautiful anyway, but it would sufficiently piss off her parents, and she liked that. In fact, these little things kept her sane, waiting for the day her parents left for an anual meeting of werewolf royalty, back in New Orleans.

It would be hard enough, leaving this place. She had never lived anywhere else, and research told her many people breaking out of cults have difficulty emotionally adjusting to the situation. At least she was suffiencetly equipped with life skills, she might as well conquor this.

Alright.
And tonight ladies and gentlemen, we feature my father selling me off to a gang leader.

it boggles my mind when people complain about alternate realities dreamt up for the sake of storytelling, because they don’t understand that with the concept of infinite possibilities there could be a theoretical timeline in which Adolf Hitler broke into song in the middle of a speech and he and his men conquored the entirety of Europe in an incredibly choreographed 8-month Bollywood-style epic