#onlyingotham do you find yourself debating whether Wayne Enterprise's pension plan is better than Bane's ridiculous starting pay. I also have an offer from Luthorcorp, but I can't afford Metropolis rent.
People equating the fyre festival with just “lol millenials” have no tie to reality honestly. Like do ya’ll really think most millennials would/can afford to spend 12,000 dollars on a concert? I have a long ass debate in my head about whether I really deserve it when I go to buy a snack at dollar tree. Yep it was aimed at that age group but you best believe those kids have parents that spend the same ridiculous amount on stupid shit all the time…its not a millenial thing, friends, it’s very much a rich people thing
I debated for months whether to share this adult!Drarry piece or not, I personally am not a fan of how it turned out, but since I’ve got no new art to post at the moment, I thought I’ll throw this out there because what do I have to lose, right? :D So here you go! ♥
Just saw some garbage written by people who are severely uninformed on honeybees. You can debate whether or not honey is vegan. I couldn’t care less! Just don’t say that beekeeping is harmful to bees. Also, don’t try to invalidate what honeybees do. I could write a novel on this, but I don’t have that kind of time. I’ve dedicated literally half of my life (a decade) to honeybees. I’m too tired from trying to save our planet to start up petty arguments with people on the internet. Hiding behind a screen gets you nowhere. Actions do. All I have to say is, don’t listen to the 14 year olds out here trying to sound like #intellectuals™ when they have done maybe three or four quick google searches. As someone who is legitimately informed on the subject, I can verify that they sound like dumbasses.
It’s FINALLY done! This took a good couple of weeks to do and I’m a little sick of sewing right now but it was totally worth it. I still need to iron it, clean up the edges and sew some stiff material onto the back, but I wanted to share it as soon as possible.
I was never allowed to have a Ouija board as a kid, but I’ve always loved the aesthetic of them. I’m still debating with myself whether or not to sew or crochet a planchette to go with it. I have no intentions of using it, but I think it would make it more complete to have one.
It surprises me that we haven’t talked about the most obvious thing: humans imagine things. Humans outright make shit up. (Like these posts?) Human stories often aren’t retellings of things that actually happened. Art often isn’t a depiction of true events. Humans - for want of a better word - humans sublimate. They transform their experiences into outlandish non-reality for each others’ amusement.
It takes forever for first contact to start because the aliens planning it keep getting confused by first radio, then television. Some of these depictions can’t be possible - but which ones? The first time War of the Worlds reaches the Kuiper belt, someone panics and has to double check that a more aggressive group hasn’t actually invaded.
After humans are finally integrated into galactic culture, some issues crop up.
“Did you clean the waste facility?” the Janitorial Supervisor asks.
“Well, I would have,” the human starts, then proceeds to tell an outrageous story about a cleaning bot with a knife strapped to its back which has the entire crew searching the ship for hours. The entire crew except for the humans.
The Captain finds the humans “searching” the self-poisoning cabinet in one of the crew quarters.
“Oh my god,” the First Officer says, on seeing the Captain’s dust-speckled upper ears. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you really fell for that. Stabby is a cryptid, Harold!”
The Captain’s name is not Harold, but that is another, even longer story.
The Captain exhales. “What is a cryptid?”
The assistant medical officer sits up straighter, his drink sloshing dangerously. The Captain has learned what “a gleam in his eye” means and how to detect it. They sit, resigned. There’s no escaping now.
An hour later, the Captain explains the concept of cryptids in considerably less detail to the embarrassed and confused Supervisor. Along with the concept of lying.
“But how do you know the difference?” the Supervisor asks, wringing their tentacles in mixed embarrassment and worry.
“Find another human,” the Captain advises. “Check for signs of mirth.”
This turns out to be prescient, because on their next planetary stop, two of the human field officers come running back into the base camp, out of breath and without the rest of their scouting team.
“Nasty buggers with teeth!” one gasps. Though the other officers appear skeptical, the Captain glances at the First Officer, who is already setting down her meal and grabbing her favorite flamethrower. The assistant medical officer yanks his kit straps over his shoulders, face grim.
“Arm yourselves,” the Captain tells the rest.
It takes about four hours, but they get everyone back more or less intact. The humans change the sign in the rec room on the ship to read: “Us: 6, Them: 0″. There is a ritual raising of liquor-filled glasses, even by the injured who are forbidden self-poisoning. The Captain begins temporary hibernation very relieved that humans are so willing to count other species as “us”.
When they ask the First Officer about it two cycles later, the First Officer looks confused, then knowing.
“My great grandmother remembers when you first showed up. They picked your people for first contact for a reason, didn’t they?”
“We look the most like you.”
“Yeah, well, that was a bad call. Gran says humans debated for months whether or not you were just other humans with good prosthetic makeup.”
The Captain blinks at this. “Most peoples are shocked and upset to learn the rest of the sentient universe does not share their appearance. Wait.” They pause. “Is that why we had so many applicants for the Janitorial position?”
The First Officer ignores that, as she usually does when the Captain doesn’t really want to know the answer.
“Do you know why cryptids exist? Why horror and violence and monsters exist in our stories?” she asks instead.
The Captain twitches both sets of ears ‘no’. “It seems unnecessary to frighten yourselves over things that don’t exist.”
“But nasty buggers with teeth do exist, even if we haven’t met them yet,” she says grimly. “And we were ready, weren’t we?”
It’s true. The humans on board have been terrifyingly adaptable, even in their violence.
The Captain feels their way carefully. “You think about things that don’t exist… sometimes even things that distress and terrify you… so that you can be ready when you face real things that distress and terrify you?”
“See, this is why you’re the Captain, Harold.” The First Officer slaps their shoulder hump cheerfully, careful to avoid the spines. “And better yet, we share the things we imagine with each other. It’s like a mental vaccine.”
“And it works?”
“Eh, sometimes. It’s not perfect. Sometimes we don’t mark our vaccines properly, or don’t realize we’re adding things we didn’t mean to. Some of them have a bad effect on some people, for various reasons. But we joined the galactic community in less than a generation. Has any other species ever done that?”
Relevant characters: human-sized bat, centaur, half-human-wolf hybrid, and a human.
Context: halfling just tried to kill us and we’re debating on whether or not to keep him.
Spider: I guess we could keep it as a pet.
Centaur: He is a sentient being! Not a pet!
Bat: What the hell do you think pets are? Rocks and twigs?
Centaur: INTELLIGENT sentient beings, then. Like us. Well, maybe not you.
Wolf: I would like to argue that the bat could be a pet.
Bat: I will eat you.
This is cliche and short but I actually finished it so
"I need another word for ‘cleansed’."
"Do I look like a Thesaurus to you, Nurse?"
Nursey looked up before he could stop himself, shock on his features for barely half a second before switching to… Pleased? Content. No, chuffed. (God, Nursey wanted to use that word in a poem one day. Chuffed.)
Dex, however, didn’t look up. The keys on his thick black laptop clicked almost continuously, and Nursey did not debate internally on whether he was writing an essay or lines of code, because he had poetry assignments to finish for tomorrow.
While not procrastinating, he shifted his mind to the whirring machine- it was really fucking old, but the thing was, Dex was the kind of person to repair his own electronics instead of upgrading them. (Like, with pliers and everything. He’s seen it happen.) The thing was in really good shape. Similar to the way that Hugh Jackman was by no means a spry twenty year old, yet looked like it would take nothing short of a battering ram to knock him over. A nice, solid, dependable-
"What the hell are you muttering about now?” Dex muttered, the hypocrite.
“Aw, nothing.” (Hugh Jackman) “The next line.” (Hugh Jackman as a laptop)
If aliens thought our normal habits and personalities were weird, imagine how they’d react to the mandela effect.
J'il-rak watched the ship’s two human crew members debate for a few seconds as he walked over. Just as he got in hearing range, Human-Rose stormed off after yelling “You’re hopeless!”
“Human-Steve, what were you talking about just now with Human-Rose?”
“Oh, just arguing about whether it’s Berenstein Bears or Berenstain Bears. It’s Berenstein.”
“I’m confused. What are you talking about?”
After Human-Steve explained, J'il-rak was perplexed.
“You… remember things differently?? How is that possible??”
“I don’t know man, human brains do this sometimes.”
“So your brain just makes up memories.”
“And you don’t know why.”
“That is correct.”
J'il-rak walked away, very concerned and confused. He would have to tell the humanologists about this. If they believed him.
To be fair, at this point what wouldn’t they believe?
Summary: In which you’re sure you’ll hate Park Jimin with every fiber of your being for the rest of your existence, even after he is assigned your tutor for History of Magic. Pairing: Jimin | Reader Genre: Fluff/Smut; Harry Potter AU Word Count: 17,321 Author’s Note: This got insanely long, and I apologize but also not really. Inspired by @jeonbegins + her really dope HP Slytherin Jimin AU edit. I also had a little conversation with @minsvga about this and she helped me figured out the basic idea for what this story has become; and @chokemejimin has asked to be tagged in my HP work so here you go my dear!!!
No matter how hard you try, it seems as if you are always bested by Park Jimin in every aspect of life: from Quidditch to school to class popularity.
And you absolutely despise him for it.
Granted, it’s probably because he’s always simply excelled in everything while you could only manage the minimum requirement for things outside of the sport you’ve grown to be so passionate about—but that’s only deepened your dislike for the boy. It’s been like this since the pair of you were children, a rivalry already planted between you even before you knew what the term meant. Truthfully, it was pretty much written in the stars that you would develop some deep-rooted grudge against Jimin, for he was organized into Slytherin while you were put in the fiery red and gold of Gryffindor.
Beyond the clashing Houses that have officially formed your backgrounds, it doesn’t help that the boy has seemed to uphold a particular interest in doing whatever he could to see you fidget or watch you squirm or just catch you at your worst moments—although you humor yourself on the idea that these unfortunate incidents occur to you because of Park Jimin’s constant hovering. It’s a habit that’s grown since the first week of your admission into Hogwarts, in which your big mouth scored you your first detention with the infamous Professor Snape.
It’s a moment that marks the beginning of an unspoken battle between the pair of you—in which you would constantly attempt to prove yourself better than Park Jimin and Park Jimin doing everything he could to make sure you could never have that victory. During the first two years of school, this would mean beating you on every exam, knowing the answers to every question and teasing you for not knowing. Professors putting Jimin on a pedestal, marking him up as the ‘ideal student’ and unknowingly intensifying the dagger of hatred you wished to plunge deeper and deeper into his chest.
When you are twelve, you are told that there is certainly no way for you to truly despise of something (or someone)—for you are young and naive and not entirely capable to understand what it means to hate something with every fiber of your being.
Here we have the very first part to a very anticipated, very emotional, very long-winded, very angsty-filled break-up story where we see the missus and Harry split and cope in ways that only bring them back to one another, closer than before and deeper in love than ever before. A little novella(?) that I’ve been working my hardest on and spending my free time perfecting just for you guys.
I cannot thank you enough for being patient with and understanding that it’s been something I want to be 100% happy with. It’s been tough, I’m not going to lie. It’s been hard to find motivation because I’ve not written very many sad stories whilst being on here; I’ve read them! But, not written many, so, I hope this is the start of something new (cue High School Musical reference).
I’m still very iffy over the argument scene. So, bear with uit, haha. It’s the first piece of angst that I’ve written…
But, I’m finally SO happy to be sharing it with you! For the next 5 days, you’re going to be taken on a journey of emotions between the two of them. Enjoy! x
I’m at a store holding a funko pop, looking at shirts. A girl and a guy are the the register having a deep debate ok whether Chaotic Good or Lawful Neutral is the better character. As I walk past them the guy stops talking and tells me the funko pops are half off. As he turns back to the girl she says
“Oh no! You aren’t finally doing your job just so you can change the topic!”