hes not meant to be a cube

I really like the idea of potions master Draco who’s really bad at cooking. They’re such similar skills, but have entirely separate needs and requirements. 

Potions are easy for Draco–he’s really good at the pedantry of knowing that a potion needs to be stirred precisely 12 times clockwise just before it simmers, or to add exactly 3 beetle eyes before nine dried doxy wings.

Cooking he will never understand, because it’s imprecise. He gets flustered because the instructions aren’t always clear–what direction is he meant to stir in? For how long?–or he focuses too much on what the recipe asks for in absolute accuracy.

If a recipe calls for 55g of butter, he measures to the microgram. He gets agitated when they ask for a “pinch of salt”, because how do you measure a pinch? If a recipe specifies potatoes should be cut into 1cm cubes, he makes sure each cube is 1cm and not a bit more.

He has difficulty knowing exactly when to add ingredients because cooking is an intuitive skill, and doesn’t rely on instructions like, “stir with a copper spoon for maximum potency”.

Some of what he makes is edible. He’s not a total loss in the kitchen, but he watches jealously as Harry bustles around their kitchen, carelessly stirring a pot as he grabs things from the pantry. He huffs when Harry barely glances at the recipe, and then completely ignore it by using ingredients it doesn’t call for, or different quantities.

What really gets him, though, is that Harry has uncanny culinary skills. Whatever he makes is delicious, and Draco can’t figure out why.

He moans about it at Harry every now and then, who always smiles secretively (when he bothers to pay attention to Draco haranguing him). The only thing Harry will say about it, though, is that he’ll keep the secret to himself so Draco will have a reason to keep him around.

[More here]

anonymous asked:


//guess you meant piltovian right? I altered him completely for this one considering he would give up on necromancy as I don’t think a Necromancer would be welcome in Piltover, so.. here goes nothing~

- Instead of the skelleton markings he has cube markings all over his body, they aren’t stuck to his body however.. they are little nano like creatures which he keeps with himself at all times as he’s fascinated by them, he simply likes to carry them around on his body. This causes them to shift forms and places at times. Other appearance differences are for example the clothes he wears instead of the worn robes, a tongue piercing instead of earrings and his hair is no longer tied up in a sideways ponytail.

- No longer keeping himself busy with Necromancy he keeps himself busy with the nano life forms. He manipulates them to his will as all these nano’s carry his DNA with them and became part of him. He can change their forms at will, use them for his own entertainment but also in battle to defend himself or take action by going for the more offensive approach.

- Due to a failed expiriment (one of his first including the nano life forms) which backfired on him he lost an eye, the nano’s replaced it none the less and shaped a new one. Sadly ever since the nano’s are artificial life forms his new eye doesn’t look all that natural, thanks to this fake eye which is controled by the nano’s he is still able to see with it. He can force the nano’s in his eye to give him information about anyone who has eyecontact with him if he wishes to know more about their body, for example; their blood type.

- Being quite curious of nature Caz spends most of his days alone and keeps himself busy with all sort of expiriments with the Nano’s that roam all over his body to see what they can and cannot do, he tests their limits. If he stumbles on something they cannot do he trains them untill they learn something new in an attempt to make it possible for them.

- His playfull behavior causes him to get caught up with his research which means most of the times if he ends up having a conversation with someone he’d ramble on and on about his nano’s, perhaps even show the one who asked about them what they can do. Sadly this doesn’t always end well for the other party ever since Caz has no sense of danger or knows the definition of ‘taking things too far’.


In Sickness and In Health

MariChat May Day 30: Sick.


Chat Noir had a cold. Both he and his kwami were perfectly miserable about it.

“He keeps me up all night with his coughing and moaning,” Plagg complained as he nibbled on a cube of cheese. Marinette tried not to smile. She knew what he really meant to say: He’s barely getting any sleep and I can’t do anything to help. On cue, a pathetic sound came from the loft. Plagg zipped up to see if Chat–the boy who was Chat Noir–was awake.

Marinette sighed. It pained her that all she could do for Chat–the boy who Chat was when he wasn’t Chat Noir–was offer him her bed. And her humidifier. And tea, and cold remedies, and the occasional head scratch. Her brow furrowed. He was so lucky she loved him.

Keep reading


Inspired by this post: “Imagine Bucky and Natasha and Steve and Sharon Carter going on a double date.”

(Author’s note: This is comics Bucky who got all his memories back at once, courtesy of the cosmic cube. It takes place about a month or so after Bucky was brought in from the cold and about a week after he was released from observation. It was meant to involve Steve andd Sharon more, but Bucky wasn’t paying attention to anything but potential threats and food, I’m afraid.)

Bucky pulled out Natasha’s chair then sat next to her, trying not to betray the uneasiness that the table’s position in the center of the room caused him.

The potential areas of attack—kitchen to the right, bathrooms dead ahead, street entrance at his back.

Without moving his head, he glanced to his left at the windows that ran the length of the restaurant. Night out, reflected view of the entrance. Good.

Cap was across from him, too. He’d know if someone was sneaking up on them from the street just by seeing the open book that was Steve’s face. OK. Relax. The table was exposed, but they were all combat ready and….

Natasha shoved a menu into his hands, giving him a slight smile that told him she knew what he was doing.

He took a breath and opened the menu, trying to ignore the feeling of a target on his back.

Bucky frowned. The sign said diner, but…. Why would anyone leave the yolks out of an omelet? Brie in the mac and cheese? What the hell was ‘Poutine’?

He closed the menu and looked at Steve, who was grinning at him.

“They still make normal stuff, Bucky. Just order what you want.”

Order what you want….

‘Bucky Barnes’ remembered going into a restaurant with a dame or two—lots of dames or two, truth be told—and ordering whatever took his fancy without regard for nutritional factors.

‘The Winter Soldier’ had required high calorie, protein-rich, nutritionally enhanced sustenance. Taste was a secondary factor. It was fuel. It ran his body at optimum efficiency. It contributed to survival.

What did he ‘want’?

The waitress approached. She had no hidden weapons that he could detect. Both hands were visible and holding a notepad. The pencil was a viable weapon in skilled hands, but…

Sharon ordered the egg white omelet. Ugh.

Natasha ordered Eggs Benedict.

Hollandaise sauce. He remembered that. It was good, but mostly butter. The winter soldier in him wasn’t ready for that.

Patron exiting the bathroom. Six feet, approximately 200 pounds.Jacket off. Shirt too tight not to betray hidden weapons. Leg holster or boot knife: unknown.. Wiping his hands on his pants—no weapon there.

Cap ordered scrambled eggs (6), sausages—a double order, hash browns, and a stack of pancakes.

Bucky smiled. Super-soldier breakfast.

The waitress looked at him inquiringly.

What did he want? What did he…

“Bacon. I want bacon.” Delicious salty, smoky, crisp, fatty, nutritionally marginal bacon. “a double order.”

He heard Steve laugh as the waitress looked at him and shifted her weight.

Bucky weighed the possibility that the weight shift indicated impending attack. He dismissed it. The way she shifted her weight put her off balance. Really, it was a stupid way to stand, ever.

“Uh…anything else, sir?”

“Two eggs, over easy, brown toast and black coffee. Large orange juice.”

He rattled it off easily, suddenly feeling like the ‘Bucky Barnes’ Steve still seemed to see and not like strange being he’d been inhabiting—caught somewhere between the winter soldier and Cap’s pal. He felt a strange sense of déjà vu and reflexively gave the waitress a smile that had her blushing.

There was a loud bang from the street.

Assess probability of attack…low. Backfire from a car….

Natasha’s hand on his arm…assess the possibility that she thinks he can’t tell the difference between a shot and a backfire…probability also low, because she leans over and whispers in his ear.

“Be careful with that smile, James. It’s quite a weapon.”

(Submitted by bridge-agent)

Banana gets a new house

My coworker forgot to bring Banana the fishy’s old new tank not once or twice, but THREE days in a row, which meant no tank for Banana until this morning. That was okay by me though, since it meant I got to set it up.

He was so curious about the tank the whole time I was filling it up!!

But Banana is curious about most things that happen around his cube, in case the things are food.

I dechlorinated the new tank water with Stress Coat, which is good for sad fins. The tank came with black gravel, so I didn’t have to buy that, and a few ornaments, only one of which would fit at a time, so I picked one he can hide in that won’t take up too much room.

Once I transitioned him to the new tank, he swam up to the ornament and bit it (in case of food).

I threw out the spiky plant I had given him - it was the right size for his sad small cube, but I wanted something colourful and soft that he could rest on, and bought him a silk plant.

He swam up to the plant and bit it.

Still looked a little bare. I wish we had Banana-sized aquarium backdrops. There are tiny air bubbles all over the tank, so he looks like a staticky TV screen. Nothing I can do about the background, but finally I scavenged a second plant that had recently been given to pet care.

And voila!

Tank is the perfect temp (around 78*), and it has a light. The moss balls may not love it, but Banana sure does! He would barely sit still to let me take a progress pic of his fins!

His anal fin is growing faster than his tail, but both are definitely growing. I hope progress picks up now!


Behold: the source of my window-frustration, and Westport’s last founder: the Walterson Apartments and Nathaniel Flynn (plus his four-legged companion: Boomer).

The apartments are built next to The Cube, and therefore made to match them. There’s three medium-sized units on the lot, and Nathaniel lives on the top floor. I haven’t completely finished his apartment yet (tsk tsk), because he’s meant to follow the Evergreens in rotation, which I’m about to start playing, and then he’s up next, so I’ll post proper screenshots when I get to that. :)

Westport’s family page has been updated with the new founders, and for now (since there are no grown-up offspring yet), it shows the order I rotate in, from Santoro to Springwood :>

My sister has become such an asshole. I’ve been staying with my family for a week and tonight, she, my brother and I were watching 22 Jump Street, and there’s a scene where Jonah Hill is talking about this girl he’s seeing and says “she’s super smart, she’s an art major” and Ice Cube replies “she can’t be that smart, she’s a fucking art major!”

I’m in school for art, and so many shows and movies have made fun of it that usually I don’t care. While I don’t agree with the idea, I wasn’t going to think twice about it until my sister laughed and was like “that’s what I was going to say.” I looked at her and asked if she seriously meant that, and she was like “well yeah. I mean no shade to you but it’s not like it’s something that takes being really smart. It’s not like she’s in school to be a doctor.”

I just looked at her for a moment and then left the room. I didn’t even know where to start with her, so I just didn’t. I really want to say I’m surprised that she’s that mean, but I’m really not. I guess I am surprised that she actually said that to my face. I have been trying to make my relationship with her work, but it is things like that, that discourage me from trying.

She’s mean because she’s unhappy (although she’s never really been “kind”) and she’s unhappy because she’s mean, among other things. She is so full of insecurities and issues that I no longer have the patience to sympathize with. I don’t want my relationship with her to suffer but I will not continue to try to educate or persuade such a bitter person with a shitty attitude because it makes me sick to be around someone like that.