google harder

So, today in my chem lecture the first professor traded off with another one, so we had a different professor than normal. The second professor’s pretty cool–funny, younger than the last one. He also has this cool thing where you can text him in class to ask questions or anonymously answer questions without having to speak up in a lecture of 200+ students. He has a thing where the messages go to his computer and they pop up on the big screen, and he’ll address them from there.

Well, he didn’t take into account the fact that, in a lecture hall of 200+ kids, there’s bound to be one wise-ass. The first message pops up on the screen not 15 minutes into the lecture, and the entire lecture hall–including the professor–bursts out in laughter.

“You look like Voldemort.”

That was it. That was the message. And, the sad thing is, they weren’t wrong.

8

Bungou Stray Dogs: Port Mafia + namesakes

     [Armed Detective Agency ver.]

Comment submitted, Jeff Kaplan rises from his gold-plated gamer chair, wiping sweat from his brow. “What’s up, this is Jeff from the Overwatch development team.” He lets out a breath, weary to the bone. “That’ll satiate the fans… for now.”

He nods to his development team. “Alright lackeys. We need to figure out what skins the Hanzo mains want, and fast. How’s the Google search coming along?”

A starved henchman steps out of his Acer Predator™ brand dog cage. “The Hanzo mains… it seems they want,” he gulps, “Alpha-Omega mpreg.”

“WELL GOOGLE HARDER PEOPLE!!! HYPE IS RUNNING OUT!!” Kaplan’s voice booms throughout the cave. His people knew fear.

Seattle/Tacoma Friendos:

Want to help me out with some research for the harder-to-google things for the book?  

  1. What are some real seedy, liminal diners?  Like, the place you’d go to meet a hitman and/or the Elf Queen?
  2. What’s the really shitty neighborhood?  like, not to live in, but the buisness/manufacturing district that’s weirdly full of homeless people?
  3. are you more likely to see raccoons or opossums?
  4. Where do all the rich bastards live?  the OLD money people with the old freaking houses, not the mcmansions
  5. parks that have both dog parks and bbq pits?
  6. a good map for commute times?
  7. Asian markets?  the unexpectedly huge one that’s got maybe two things in english in the whole store and a fish counter that looks like a sampling off the endangered species list?
  8. or other ethinic markets?
  9. Particularly haunted places, or parks you just don’t go into after dark?
  10. weird local jokes or obsessions?  (the one pun everyone tells/fuckign hipsters/seahawks?)
  11. regular local complaints? (bitching about traffic/trains/sportsball/specific families/buisnesses)

Just Because We Can

Dark had ordered them to fuse. They never would have done it on their if given the choice. They did both “hate” one another, no matter how similar they are to each other. So here they are, glaring each other down from their respective sides of the room, slowly walking towards one another. Google doesn’t actually hate Bing on a personal level; it’s just in his coding to despise the company that created him. He believes the feelings are mutual as they meet each in the middle of the room and raise their arms, placing them together midair. Google actually quite enjoys the other android’s presence- it makes him feel less alone as a not completely organic or mechanical being. He wonders if Bing feels the same way in this regard as they circle one another, arms staying placed together as a heat grows between their limbs.

They quickly turn, connecting their other arms together once they’ve gone around fully. They continue to circle, feet moving them slowly but surely along. Google recalls fusing with others; with Wilford, the Host and Marvin. He has to admit his favorite to fuse with out of the three has to be Wilford. He always feels so much more alive when he’s sharing a body with the bubbly ego. It’s a wonderful feeling. With the Host he felt more calm, more at ease, like nothing is there to bother him. With Marvin he felt curious and questioning of everything, felt the power of the magician’s magic gushing through his veins.

He wonders how he’ll feel once he’s fused with Bing.

They grab onto one another’s hands and begin to spin, following the instructions of the dance they had both agreed upon. Google can feel Dark’s gaze boring into his back, following their every movement and he knows the demon is expecting this to work wonderfully. He probably wants some kind of indestructible machine that can answer any and all questions faster than even Google can already.

Are their personalities even compatible? Would this actually work? He inwardly shakes himself because he should not be thinking this deeply on his own.

Besides, the climax to their dance is nearing. He needs to focus better on this. He steps outwards, holds his hand to Bing just as the other android does the same movement and now they’re circling one another with just their hands touching, eyes staying locked together. They step back, keep their fingertips touching and throw their heads back, coming back together a moment later.

There’s that heat, that pulling.

Google actually steps closer to Bing and they press together, continuing in their circular motion. They’re beginning to glow, starting at the arms. Google’s eyes widen because no, this isn’t how it’s supposed to work-

There’s an explosion of pain and light and noise and Google goes flying back, not stopping until his back hits the wall. He grits his teeth as a terrible aching pain spreads through his arm and to the rest of his body, everything throbbing at once. He squints his eyes open to look across the room, confusion building up inside of him. Had it not worked? And if not, why?

Bing is on the opposite side of the room, groaning in pain himself as he looks himself over. “What the hell..?” Google heard the other android mutter, rubbing at the back of his head. Dark has stood up and walked to the center of the room, looking between the two downed androids.

“What the hell happened?” Dark demanded, crossing his arms over his chest as he throws a glare to Google. As if this was all his fault.

Google pushes to his feet despite his aching limbs, slowly brushing himself off. He has to grit his teeth to ignore the pain coursing through him and walk to Dark to speak with him more easily. “I am unsure of what happened,” he informed lamely because he has no actual idea what had happened. They did everything right. “Perhaps we are not compatible?”

“That would make since,” Bing said from his place on the floor, kicking his most likely aching legs out in front of him. He leans against the wall, making no obvious attempt to stand up. “We are really against one another, like, all the time. He’s old man that needs to loosen up. I’m too cool for his old sensors to keep up with.”

Google is about to snap a protest at that but Dark beats him to speaking, “I want you two to try again.”

Bing grunts as he pushes to his feet and Google rolls his eyes as soon as Dark’s back is to them. They return to one another, do the dance once more. But they only go flying apart again. Google finds it harder to move this time. But Dark orders them to try again. Again, they try, again, they fail. Dark snaps at them to try a different style. They try. They fail.

This time Google can’t move. His joints feel too clogged, too rusted. He can’t even bend the tip of any of his fingers, can’t even blink with his eyelids he’s so stiff and in pain. He can make out Dark yelling at them to get up, to try again. But his receptors are faulty; everything is faulty.

His eyes shut and he can’t stay awake any longer. He actually passes out after years of finding this feat impossible.

___


Doesnt mean we should


@i-am-a-fan I did it~! There is a second(kinda) part to this so tell me if you wanna see it ^^

We should all appreciate the fact that over the course of the series we get to see Ushiwaka go from Sub-19 Japanese representative

to farmer

to zookeeper

there is nothing ushiwaka can not do

In response to a specific post in the Miraculous Ladybug fandom that I found particularly upsetting, I wrote out this essay. I’m going to try to be as kind as humanly possible with this response, but my passion for this subject may get a bit heated. I apologize in advance for both length and for any unintended anger that may seep through; it isn’t my intent to make anyone feel bad.

With that disclaimer out of the way, posts like these really, really frustrate me because there is a clear misunderstanding about what fanfiction is. So, for your information:

Fanfiction is not professional writing.

Fanfiction is not professional writing.

Fanfiction is not professional writing.

It’s not. It is written by fans, hence the name. Fans who range in age (I started posting online when I was 12, but I wrote fanfiction long before then), in experience, in level across the different acquired skills of writing (as fun fact, there are three major types), in time, and also accessibility to information all can and do write fan work. You can have a thirteen year old who just posted their first ever creative story and a prolific, published-in-real-life thirty eight year old publishing fanfiction within the same fandom at any given moment. That’s the intended beauty of fandom; for the most part (though age does matter in circumstances of predatory behavior and the like), these external traits of ours do not determine who can and can’t be a fan, and by extension, who can and can’t contribute fan work. And all of them contribute it to a fandom for one purpose: for they and their fellow fans to enjoy.

That’s right. Fan writers don’t just write for themselves; they write for you. Yes, we writers (both fan and non) tell ourselves over and over to write only for ourselves because there’s far less disappointment in that, but any writer who says they 100% only wrote something for themselves is either thinking wishfully or didn’t publish it online. We do it not just because we love the agony of writing, we do it because we want to make someone else as happy as we are. On top of that, we do this for zero dollars, sometimes for little to no recognition from anyone because no one bothers to leave a “like” or “kudos”, much less leave a comment telling us that they liked it. And listen – that’s fine. This isn’t meant to guilt trip anyone; you’re welcome to do whatever you want, and while it’d be nice for people to read the art we create and share it, it isn’t happening and hasn’t happened for a long time. It’s simply a fact that fan writers have to accept.

But this also means that fan writers do not owe you anything. We don’t. We don’t owe you hours of hard research (which, if you’ve done actual research for writing and not a ten minute sift through Google, is a lot harder than it sounds) or impeccable execution of the language we choose to write in. We don’t owe you perfectly written characters or pieces that have been scoured for errors. We don’t owe you beautiful original plots or stories that play out exactly how you want them to. We don’t owe you our so-called “talent” that’s usually forged from the ashes of our blood, sweat, and tears. You don’t pay us a cent nor a compliment; therefore, while many of us will look through our writing for errors, thoroughly research topics, and practice writing the characters to the best of our capacity, we don’t owe that to you. At all.

Fan writers are allowed to mess up. They’re allowed to take wild leaps in judgment, under research their topics, and say or do a great many things that some people may not approve of. They’re allowed to “write badly” and to make mistakes because this isn’t their job. They’re having fun, and if they do choose to take creative writing past a hobby, many of them will learn to correct the previous errors they made in their work. Or not, but in those cases, when you are paying for a good story from an author who is either established or establishing themselves, you are more than welcome to criticize them for their poor research/poor writing/or whatever else you dislike.

This isn’t to say you aren’t allowed to not like things in fan work. You’re more than welcome to dislike anything you want in fan fiction, as there are many things that I hate in fiction: for example, I despise when the single quote (’) is used for dialogue, when the quotation mark is (”). Grammatically, it is only correct to use single quotes when there is a quote within a quote, like so: “He said ‘Jim, if you think this is the last of me, you’ve got another thing coming’.” Using them any other way is simply incorrect as far as I know, unless the rule has changed. However, unless an author specifically asked for criticism, it isn’t my place to criticize them for it, especially because when they published this online, it was not meant for critical analysis of their grammar and syntax. The same goes here. You are more than welcome to dislike cultural inaccuracies in fan work, absolutely. If the writer asks for commentary, you’re also more than welcome to point them out.

Do problematic things happen in fanfiction that are indeed representative of a widespread problem and should be considered for discussion? Absolutely. But “not doing the research” as one is doing when they’re writing Americanisms into a French place and “having undertones of racist/misogynistic/transphobic/homophobic themes” are two totally different animals, one of which is generally a mechanic of writing, and the other which is indicative of a social wide problem.

You are not entitled to anything from fan writers, and not one person in a fandom is, not even other fan writers. If you have a problem with the way something is written, stop whatever it is you’re reading and either go read something else or, better yet, write your own story to your own specifications. But it is deplorable to expect someone that you barely care for properly creatively to write perfect masterpieces for you, and then to tear them down as bad writers when they don’t deliver.

These writers are young people and as older people, and often times adults, you should know better than to stifle a young person who is just harmlessly exploring their new found craft and having fun with their peers.

You should know better.

The Dizziness of Freedom

For @teilo, as part @todaydreambelieversfic 2016 Gift Exchange. With deep and abiding (and endless, seriously) thanks to @boroniaserrulata for all of her help tidying up all of my grammatical oversights and for highlighting the parts that didn’t make logical narrative sense, and to @quirkyquantumqueen, also for her help narrative clarity. They’ve made this story better, and I hope I’ve done their work justice here.
Prompt: Badboy and jealous/possessive: either Kurt or Blaine can be the badboy, jealous/possessive one. Would like to see this set when they are out of college.
Featuring Kurt with some type of attitude, the armour of a badboy, and a streak of not being remotely embarrassed to pursue what he wants. And man, he wants Blaine…
The usual warnings for my shit apply - there are themes of depression, anxiety, and recovery. Finn’s passing has a half a sentence mention, as does Burt’s health scare. There’s a passing reference to Blaine’s first Sadie Hawkins dance and the events thereof. There’s also reference to the events of the 601 flashback, re. Blaine’s initial break up. The boy who breaks his heart isn’t Kurt though. Also, medication and therapy, but in passing and not in focus. I have crammed a lot into my words!
To some extent, this is a meet-cute, and, what’s more, it’s on the AO3 here! (There’s also 7.1k of it, so buckle in.)

Blaine Anderson doesn’t quite know how he would define celebrity if he were asked (and he’s been asked). He does know that he doesn’t like to think of himself as whatever that is. However, due to a windfall television role when he left college, he does have a small level of fame, a loyal following on Twitter, and his own tag on TMZ, the last of which he would delete if he could. Blaine is 27 years old, almost twelve months out of the relationship documented by the TMZ tag, and one thing is absolutely positive: he really isn’t looking for anything the night he meets Kurt Hummel.

It’s been a long, exhausting year for Blaine. The previous May, he’d been happily in love with the man he was sure he was going to spend his forever with. He’d been planning a wedding, choosing flowers and cakes, arranging the seating and colour schemes, and although he’d been quietly aware that his fiancé hadn’t been quite as invested, he’d put it down to the pressure of long work days and too little free time. Weddings are stressful. It made sense that he had let Blaine shoulder the planning. It had been fun, Blaine had found, being able to share small details with his fans on Twitter and Instagram, their excitement the mirror for his own that he’d been lacking a little.

Through June and into July came the persistent rumours about his fiancé that he had ignored and refused to Google, and which became harder to gloss over when his mentions blew up with photographic evidence, and by August he’d moved back to his childhood home, where there was less attention and less pressure to keep smiling when his heart was breaking.

He spent most of August ghosting through his own life. He’d been spending whole days asleep, too tired and emotionally destroyed to even think about waking up for longer than it took to pee, and that went on until Labor Day, when his mom took it upon herself to contact everyone in his phone book who could possibly help. Between them, they’d agreed that perhaps a therapist may be able to help, certainly a doctor, and – when the tears abated and he realised that his tightest jeans were almost a size too big – had agreed that none of those things could hurt him more than he already hurt.

It’s been a long, painful road to recovery. He’s had to adapt to being not in the place he thought he would be. Instead of the husband and the stage career, he’s living in his brother’s apartment in Los Angeles and he’s piecing back together the scattered fragments of his heart whilst he works on a second degree part time, this time in music therapy, all the while maintaining his profile with small screen roles when he can get them. In his spare time, he runs a blog that’s gained a lot of traction, where he talks about his experiences with co-dependency, falling in love with the wrong people, and how he’s learned to live with anxiety and depression.

It’s the blog, not his acting, that has him on the path that will bring him to Kurt.

Keep reading

Exo reaction: Your first time

They tell me to have fun… jfc. This is going to kill me. *Bring it on* ****

Suho:

Suho: *watching you start taking off your clothes*

Suho: My turn?

Baekhyun: 

Baekhyun: I’m so nervous.

Baekhyun: *tries to lighten the mood* But I knew you wanted all this.

Chanyeol:

Chanyeol: Are you sure?

Y/N: *nods and starts undressing him*

Chanyeol: *personality changes*

D.O:

D.O: *when you walk into the bedroom* You’re so beautiful.

Kai:

Kai: *horny*

Kai: Get over here. 

Sehun:

Sehun: *Cocky maknae*

Tao:

Tao: *stunned silent*

Chen:

Chen: *teases you first*

Lay:

Lay: *when he sees you in almost nothing* Oh wow. You look… n-nice?

Kris:

Kris: *When he sees you naked*

Luhan: 

Luhan: I’ll show you how manly I am.

Xiumin:

Xiumin:

–gifs found on google–

*** this was… harder than I expected…

Purebred Breeders Sold Me A Sick Puppy Who Almost Died And Might Still Die

We got Harry on May 27th, and by the next day, he was dying. 

He wasn’t eating. He wasn’t drinking. He wasn’t doing anything but coughing, gagging, and vomiting. We called BluePearl, an animal ER, and were told to bring him in immediately. They diagnosed him with severe infectious pneumonia, and admitted him into their ICU, where he was hooked up to oxygen and IVs because he couldn’t breathe or eat on his own. At this point he was 9 weeks old and weighed less than 4 pounds.

In the last four months, Harry has been such a cute, sweet, loving puppy. He has also cost me and my boyfriend over $13,000, which is an astronomical amount of money. But we adore this poor, innocent little guy and have wanted to do everything we can to help him. Since his stay in the ICU, Harry has continued to have persistent respiratory problems that no amount of medication or vet visits have been able to solve. On bad days, he wheezes and gags constantly; we have to get up with him in the middle of the night, take him into a steamed-up bathroom, and beat on his chest to help break up the blockage in his lungs. He has been on three different expensive medications for four months. He was too ill to ever go outside until two weeks ago. Our vet is sure that Harry arrived to us sick and has described his lungs as “some of the worst I have ever seen on a dog.” And no insurance company will help with the costs because they also consider his pneumonia “a pre-existing condition." 

We bought Harry from Purebred Breeders. And throughout this whole process, they have been an absolute nightmare. Though I will say this right now: I should have NEVER bought a dog from them, and I am 100% complicit in this whole situation. We should have adopted. We should have gotten a shelter dog. But we didn’t. We did, however, try not to buy one of those puppies in the window, so we went through Purebred Breeders. They prided themselves on how well their dogs were cared for and how they had sold puppies to the Bidens and other high-profile celebrities. If anything, we thought we were buying a dog that was TOO fancy; that we were actually being sort of hoity-toity. But, we thought, at least we’ll know it’s a good dog. NOPE.

If we had just googled harder, we could have found out HUNDREDS of horrible things about Purebred Breeders. We could have found out that The Humane Society has sued Purebred for being a puppy mill that “deceives customers about the origins of the puppies they sell, and as a result, unsuspecting families suffer great expense caring for sick dogs.” We could have found out that the Better Business Bureau gave Purebred Breeders a C rating. We could have read the endless  number  of  negative  Yelp  reviews, all from people who went through the same thing we did. We could have watched the “Today Show” report where ex-employees of Purebred admitted that they were coached to mislead prospective buyers about the conditions their puppies were raised in. Conditions identical to puppy mills. So why oh why did we not Google harder, especially in 2014?

Because A) we were idiots excited to get a cute little puppy, and B) we were smooth-talked by the people at Purebred Breeders.

Those people have spent months ignoring us. Not returning phone calls. Responding to emails at a snail’s pace. They have refused to help pay for any of Harry’s medical expenses. In the guarantee we signed upon purchase, it stated that we would get the price of our dog back if he died within one year due to a congenital disease. But he is not dead and he hasn’t been diagnosed with a congenital disease. And the "price of the dog” is nothing compared to the mounting medical bills and the near-constant pain our puppy has been in. He arrived to us sick with an illness he either got where he was raised or during transit. Because while Purebred bragged to us on the phone about how their dogs fly to their new homes ON the plane like “show dogs” (which, again, seemed soooo fancy), he was shipped UNDER the plane,  at 9 weeks old, even though the woman who raised Harry says on her website “we will not ship our puppies until they are at least 10 weeks of age, sometimes 12 weeks.”

We have been lied to by Purebred Breeders every step of the way. We have been refused help by Purebred Breeders every step of the way. And now, just to get the price of the dog back, they want us to sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement. Yeah, right. We refuse to do this, because people need to know how horrible we think Purebred Breeders has been. Not to us, but to our puppy. And people need to know not to buy from them.

That being said, it’s 2014. All of you are probably reading this like “of course I would never buy a dog from Purebred Breeders! I already know this!” It’s kinda like when you see a young person smoking nowadays—it’s like “what are you even doing!? Everyone knows now that this is so bad!” But I was a dumb idiot and I basically started smoking in 2014; I bought a dog through a company with a long, documented history of neglect, lies and abuse. And I should have known better.

So please, don’t be an idiot like me. Never purchase a dog from Purebred Breeders. And don’t let someone you love do it either. 

Plus, it’s 2014. Why would you basically start smoking now?

For everyone complaining about subs

As someone who studies translation I want to say translating is not as easy as you think, this isn’t just “pick a diccionary” or use Google translator, it’s even harder to translate for subs.

Just to lay it out: For subs, you need to take in consideration how many words the human brain can usually read in a period of time and adapt it accordingly, a huge amount of wall text is distracting and doesn’t flow well, so you need to think about how you will translate the dialogue in a way that it fits this period of time and at the same time not lose too much content, which is hard!

Now, there are words that are synonims to each other, but they aren’t exactly the same and the impact is different, depending on how you word something it might have a different context.

They also do a quality check to see if everything is in order, timing the subs with the spoken dialogue is no easy feat too, I dunno what program they use to translate, but the ones that were show to me looked fairly complicated to use.

So in short: If you’re going to complain to them then go learn Japanese, learn all the translating process and learn how to use the sub program!

Oh, and remember that HOLIDAYS are a thing, people want to enjoy them like any other human being.

anonymous asked:

Hey do you know somewhere I can stream Princessbride episodes online? I haven't watched it yet and you keep going on about it so :D


The Princess Bride is a movie… 

Kazama followed a mental checklist as he prepared for his date. He showered off the day’s sweat and shampooed generously with a product that smelled like apples and cinnamon. With a towel around his waist, he examined himself in the mirror and wondered how best to accentuate his looks. After a few minutes had passed, he dried his hair and styled it to its usual spiky state.

Now for clothes. He walked to his closet naked and pushed his uniforms aside to see what else he had. After careful deliberation, he dressed in his most expensive suit. Then he remembered what Jack told him about being comfortable and changed out of that and into dark jeans, a burgundy vest over a yellow shirt, and the same boots he wore at work (hopefully Jack wouldn’t mind too much).

He checked himself in the mirror again and thought the results were pretty good. All that was left was to spritz a bit of cologne on. He had a bottle for special occasions that, if the promises on the label were true, would render him irresistible.

He whistled happily as he walked from his apartment to Jack’s hotel. It was about a twenty-minute walk, and then the cafe would be another five minutes. He reached the hotel just before seven and went to the front desk. The furniture and paintings around the lobby were beautiful, and Kazama could just imagine how fancy Jack’s room would be.

After informing the receptionist of his name and providing ID, he was given a key and shown to the elevator. It was a long, smooth ride to the top. He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. How wonderful this evening was going to be; he was brimming with excitement.

When the elevator doors slid open, Kazama could see Jack’s room right across the hall. He walked over, swiped the card key, and pushed the door open. As he entered, he called out, “I’m here, Jack!”