Donald Trump answers the question:
"I have to say a lot of people have been asking this question. No, really. A lot of people come up to me and they ask me. They say, 'What's 2+2'? And I tell them look, we know what 2+2 is. We've had almost eight years of the worst kind of math you can imagine. Oh my God, I can't believe it. Addition and subtraction of the 1s the 2s and the 3s. It's terrible. It's just terrible. Look, if you want to know what 2+2 is, do you want to know what 2+2 is? I'll tell you. First of all the number 2, by the way, I love the number 2. It's probably my favorite number, no it is my favorite number. You know what, it's probably more like the number two but with a lot of zeros behind it. A lot. If I'm being honest, I mean, if I'm being honest. I like a lot of zeros. Except for Marco Rubio, now he's a zero that I don't like. Though, I probably shouldn't say that. He's a nice guy but he's like, '10101000101,' on and on, like that. He's like a computer! You know what I mean? He's like a computer. I don't know. I mean, you know. So, we have all these numbers, and we can add them and subtract them and add them. TIMES them even. Did you know that? We can times them OR divide them, they don't tell you that, and I'll tell you, no one is better at the order of operations than me. You wouldn't believe it. So, we're gonna be the best on 2+2, believe me."
so stubborn is incredible. A hot head. She knows what she wants and she'll get it. Yells a lot. Cares a lot about her family. Very concerned about her diet. She looks like a cinnamon roll but is a beast inside.
Aries male :
very intelligent, probably the most intelligent. Can either have a very scientific mind or a very literary mind. Loves to read. LOVES to make puns. Horrible ones. Has the biggest laugh.
MY BIGGEST LOVE. Literally the cutest thing. She is so smart and caring and it's true: she loves to eat. Cares so much about everyone, not only her close friends. She almost never get angry but when she does. Ouch.
a cutie. Always ready to cheer you up. DOES NOT. BELIEVE. IN. ASTROLOGY. Likes scientific shit. Loves old movies. Always laughs at your jokes. The best friend you can find. Loves Shrek.
so strong and independent. Her hair is always on point, so is her outfit. Either very tall or very short. They talk a lot and they love listening to you. Geminis are actually very lovable people. Best companion for a boring class or for lunch break.
very bold and confident about himself. Does his own thing. It's not that he is a dick, it's just that he has his own problems to take care of. Except Trump, Trumps is really a dick. Im sorry Geminis that he is in your sign. The cool guy of the class who has a different girl every week. A lil fuckboy but fun to have a chat with. Loves videogames and perfect pal to get drunk with.
not a crybaby. Actually HATES to cry in public. More often than you think, very extroverted. Very passionate about what she loves. High ambitions, starts many things and then get bored. So many puns oh god.
oh boy. "Nightmare dressed as a daydream". Makes you feel so special. Boyfriend material. Usually dark hair and dark eyes. Not very tall. Adorable. Special laugh. Will do great things in life. Very creative but kinda introvert(?) WILL RATHER DIE THAN CRY IN PUBLIC.
very close about her private things but she will open up if you demonstrate her she can trust you. Loves everyone. Not that confident about herself. Very confident about the world, tho. Wants to move someplace else and experience. People respect her.
Stonehead™. Literally smokes all the time to forget about the pain he feels. Hides emotions and then explodes, usually with rage. Either very close to you that he calls you every day, or he'll completely ignore you. Smart even tho it doesn't look like. The lonely wolf.
so stubborn and independent. She knows what she wants and she'll get it. Can get very clingy to the people she loves but sometimes neglect other people she loves even tho she doesn't notice. Get mad easily for the little things. The queen. Just listen to her, she knows the shit.
cute but doesn't have his own personality. Sometimes gets involved in ugly companies and does things he doesn't want to. Very sensitive but tries to hide it. Actually cares about you even tho he wants to appear a tough boy. Pretends he doesn't care about school, ends up with all A. Probably very good at soccer.
becomes part of your family if she isn't already. Amazing lipsticks. Always has great stories to tell. Lives in the clouds. Forgets about things easily but won't forget the important things. Has so many passions but get easily distracted when she is studying for an exam. Perfect person to binge watch Sherlock with.
my everything. Pretends he's a gryffindor but deep down is a slytherin. Stunning. Gets high grade without doing shit. The teacher favorite. The one you can do stupid shit with. Will do anything for you. Listens to you 24/7. Loves tv shows. Very smart. Will probably end up doing something very important. Perfect dad.
actually very sweet and caring, as much as cancer. Never shows off her emotions but you'll know when she cares about you. She's like a mama bear. She'll call you if she feels you are not happy. She'll call you constantly. Extroverted and kind. Best presents ever. Looks naive but very cautious.
ok so my ex fwb was a scorpio and i gotta say they get emotionally attached. Pretend they don't care AT ALL and then calls u at 2 in the morning telling u they love you. Just be careful cause they don't know what they want. Obsessed with electronic things and sex.
literally on fire. SHE. TALKS. SO. MUCH. I have so many different feelings about her. Either i love completely or I can't stand her. She pretends she knows everything. She's so slow at doing everything, except talking. Laughs a lot. Very sensitive deep down. So loud.
Pretty introverted. The fire is hidden. He's a freaking badass. If he cares about you, he will show you. Most likely to call you at midnight for your birthday. Very sweet. Goes big or goes home, especially in love. Both a cinnamon and a sinnamon roll. Like if he ain't in the same political party as you, just don't mention politics. That's when the fire shows.
so. she actually cares about you. but she has so much shit going on so she might forget to come at a place you invited her, she won't even apologize but when something happens to you, be sure she'll call. She's absolutely cute and she has been hurt so many times so it's hard for her to trust people completely.
THE FUCKING FANBOY. He loves to travel and to try new things. He is so shy but with his friends he's crazy. Laughs at his own jokes. Extremely sensitive and when he loves, he loves hard. So intelligent and interesting. Absolutely adorable.
the sweetest. she gets clingy to everyone but because she wants to have friends and do things and has a lot of problems but holds everything in and puts her friends first and she's hurt. The most precious human. She needs, she deserves to be loved the most. Learns very quickly and she's very honest.
the devil™. Actually he is funny, like so many jokes, but sometimes it's just too much. He hates when people offend him. Gets on the defensive. Kinda selfish and cares a lot about like 3 people (?). Like he will kill for them. So much drama, boy. Probably failed history and algebra 2 twice.
such a badass and a cutiepie at the same time i don't even know how this is possible. she has such a strong personality and loves her friends. Determined and will fight with her teeth for what she loves. You need to have a pisces in your life. She always says she will kill a person but then she just like run away.
like just like the pisces female. Cares so much about his family and shows his emotions easily, whether is anger or sadness or happiness. Determined but also insecure about himself, but will do great things.
They call you Magpie, occasionally— Bloodhound more recently— and you like to collect things.
You’ve always been careful about it, of course— learning where, if they exist at all, the lost and founds are, how to stumble across the people around who have the uncanny ability to know everyone and everything that matters to them, the places locals always check for items gone adrift— and you’ve heard strange things about EU, even before you actually arrived. Nothing concrete, nothing substantial, but enough on the forums and ratemyprofessors and hidden in deep corners of the web that you take extra care this time before continuing your finding (and returning, which is, admittedly, more of an entertaining challenge).
So instead of picking up the curiosities or collecting the feathers and bits and baubles, you watch, as you always do, and you’re thorough, as you always are. It takes some months and some seeing things you perhaps shouldn’t have and some time spent imagining solutions you likely couldn’t spare, but when all is said and done you think you’re ready to begin.
When you take the feathers, you leave behind piles of birdseed (your cockatiel’s favorite, and millet too when the plumage is especially colorful). When you find bottle caps, you bring them to the fountain and throw them in the highest tier; for the koi in the pond and their gasping mouths, you bring stories (words, the important thing is the words) whispered in the dead of night and shut up in the pretty green bottles left for you on the sidewalk. You find marbles in your pockets, bright as bubbles catching the sun, and make earrings out of them using the delicate wire you’re given every time you leave interestingly-shaped driftwood in that hole beside the dumpster (the earrings you keep, and sometimes give away to classmates worried about getting caught (or getting Caught, depending) in the rain). You give poetry and songs (whatever’s in your head, be it Bon Jovi for a week, the lines of that play you’re struggling with, or the rhymes that occasionally overtake your thoughts) to the crows and the trees and they give you nothing, but nor do they take.
The squirrels you know better than to deal with. A senior warned you (indirectly, eyes straight ahead as you both walked along), and when you accidentally leave your doodle notebook under the tree, you are left shaking pine needles out of your hair for weeks (it does smell nice, to be fair).
You never take found things without giving in return, and never give without expecting to leave empty-handed. It is a kindness, all of it, and you treasure the thanks you get (you do not always get thanked, and you do not mind).
With the lost things, you tread more carefully. You peek at them from the corner of your eye and wait a day (sometimes two, sometimes three, depending on how hard it is to only cast a glance) in order to see if the item is claimed; eventually (reluctantly, sometimes, but you do know how to help lost things find their homes, and you don’t want to leave them), you pick them up.
If it’s made of anything shiny, you leave it by the crows, rattling off as many interwoven lines of poetry you can cobble together about guarding and glittering, returning and finding, dropping off folded tinfoil sculptures as well (the crows have never given you anything back, but nor has anything been taken, and so you figure it’s fair they keep whatever they feel they’re owed). Though you only intend for them to keep watch and draw attention (whenever something pretty is misplaced, everyone looks at them), you begin to leave them your little aluminum figures whenever you catch wind of anything (or anyone) disappearing as a good luck charm, fond of how they watch and listen and protect what’s them and theirs. It is meant to be an idiosyncrasy, but you start to notice that they gather around the places those lost things turn up. You don’t give thanks and you pick up no more of their feathers than usual. When something is returned you make sure those involved discover a sudden and temporary interest in reading classic poems aloud.
When it’s anything that seems personal (or urgent), you hunt It down; a sigil that looks like an abstract swirl or perhaps an eye or perhaps a hand. Usually someone’s wearing it, frequently it’s purple, and always it’s on the softest-looking piece of fabric around; you drop the item nearby, wrapped in pairs of the warmest socks you can get on short notice, and grin before moving along. After the third time, when you get pins and needles walking away, you also start folding paper flowers out of the lists you keep of what you pick up where (and, if applicable, what you left in return). You leave those stuffed inside the socks, and notice that in certain places nothing turns up anymore (you do not blame It for being more skilled than you).
When it’s just an ordinary lost thing, you bury it, and leave a circle of pebbles above; later, you place a crow’s feather in the middle as well. You check back in a week and usually it’s gone. If it’s still there in two, you put it in the school’s lost and found, and at that point, more often than not, you later end up discovering it in your room.
You begin to get a reputation.
You hope, perhaps (probably) vainly, that it will do you no harm, and that you will not become one of the lost things you are so fond of.
You do what you can to keep safe; you owe no one a thing, and there are quite a few that owe you (and owe you very much).
You like to collect things, but you don’t collect debts. You do much freely, and you find value in kindnesses, but you value yourself, of course, most of all.
You hope you will not become lost, one way or another. You try to remember that, before, your help was freely given and the debts you were owed forgiven more often than not. You hope your (what-started-out-as-)innocent hobby will do you no harm.
“Eleven.” Tim turned in his chair, confused. He wasn’t sure what the voice was talking about. It had been an exhausting couple of days— he wasn’t even sure who the voice belonged to. “Eleven,” Damian repeated. “That’s the eleventh time you’ve yawned in—” he put his book down and swung his wrist above his head to check his watch. “—three minutes. Is something wrong?” “If it’s bothering you, just go to a different room.” “I was here first.” In the grand scheme of things, no, Tim thought, you were not. He knew better than to say it out loud, though— Damian was eyeing him suspiciously from the couch, like he was ready to pick a fight. Tim had enough to deal with already. He bent back over his case notes. If he finished with them in the next hour, he would be back on schedule for the first time in months— he could go check that crime scene by the docks and visit with his informants on the South Side. Probably try the piers after that, and then… Tim stretched his arms over his head. And then he would… “Twelve.” Oh my god. Tim swung around again and glared at his little brother. Damian didn’t seem to mind— he was flat on the couch with his book held above his face, reading peacefully. “Did you sleep last night?” he asked, without looking up from his novel. “No.” “How about the night before?” “You know we have three other living rooms, right? You could have any of them to yourself.” “I’ll take that as a no.” “Leave me alone, Damian. I’m working.” “You should go to bed.” Damian turned slowly to look Tim in the eyes. “It’s not healthy to stay awake that long.” “I didn’t know you cared.” “You’re right.” Damian put down his book and pulled out his phone instead. “I don’t. Thanks for reminding me.” He started texting, ignoring Tim completely. Fine. Tim went back to his files, careful not to yawn— he really was tired. He just needed to power through it, was all. He’d be fine if he kept going, and maybe got some caffeine. He would give a lot for some of that just now. By a happy coincidence, at that moment, Jason stuck his head in the door. “Yo I made coffee. Does anybody want some?” Damian made the face he reserved for bat droppings, coffee, and Tim. “No.” Tim held out an arm. “Give. Now.” Jason handed him a mug and settled on the end of Damian’s couch. He watched Tim drain half his cup in one go (it was good coffee, okay?) very intently… too intently. Tim stared back at him. “What?” “What you doing?” “I’m waiting.” Jason grinned down at Damian, who was still focussed on his novel. “Waiting for what?” Jason just smiled. Tim stifled another yawn— the caffeine wasn’t helping. He felt incredibly tired, worse than before, even. His eyes kept closing without his permission. He laid his head on the table for a few seconds. He was… wow… wait… “That,” said Jason. “There we go. Mission accomplished.” Tim peeled his face away from the tabletop. “Did you just—” He stared at Jason incredulously. “Did you just drug me?!” “Don’t accept coffee from strangers.” Damian looked up from his book. “Okay,” he said. “Now take him to his room.” “Damian??” Tim couldn’t believe this. Of all the— He tried to resist as Jason scooped him up and threw him over a shoulder, but he couldn’t find the energy. They started down the hallway, with Damian trailing behind them, face still planted in his book. He knocked gently into the door frame on the way through and looked up to glare at the wall. “Listen,” Jason asked him, “do I want to know why you’ve got this grade of sedatives lying around?” “That, mostly.” Damian shrugged in Tim’s direction. “You’ve done this before?” Tim dangled helplessly on Jason’s back. “I swear to God I’m going to— Bruce! Help!” Bruce had poked his head out of a his own doorway. He squinted at the three of them like he was afraid to ask— Tim reached a hand in his direction. “They drugged me!” “Drake’s going to sleep now,” Damian informed his father, crossing his arms. “I’m…” Bruce apparently decided that he didn’t want to deal with it, because he turned around and walked back into his room, shutting the door behind him. “Hey!” Tim was— He wasn’t— How the hell— “Bruce, get me an antidote! Get me some different siblings!” No response. Tim tried to punch Jason in the back, but he was so tired that it barely made an impact. Jason laughed at him as they pushed through his door. “Keep trying.” He let Tim fall onto the bed. Damian handed him a blanket from the guest closet, and Jason threw it over Tim. “There. Go to sleep.” “I hate you so much.” “We wouldn’t have to do this if you would take care of yourself.” Jason held out a hand for Damian to high five. “Zombie squad out.” Damian ignored the hand. “No, Todd.” They turned off the lights and left Tim alone, seething in the dark. In thirty seconds he was asleep.
I am a Huge Nerd for alien and human interactions that go across tumblr (space Australia and Stabby come to mind) but like for real what about the human concept of luck? Each culture has its own, too, and also superstition so like this human will go nowhere near black cats but others are just like ‘oh kitty kitty kitty’.
Try to explain to someone that doesn’t understand that breaking a mirror is more than just a glass hazard. No it’s not a mystical mirror or a religious thing. It’s just a mirror, you broke it, now you get 7 earth years of bad luck. Is to the day? Who knows. But 7 years dude.
Or like that one person who always has stuff break around them. ‘Why are they banned from the engine room?’ 'Just trust us Nyrak.’
Or what about people who things always go outrageously right for. That person where any number of the things that happen should not even be able to happen, and yet here we are.
That person that has the luck/innate skill to balance anything on their nose.
Lucky numbers. The importance of the zodiac too, while we’re at it. “The stars are not in alignment” 'have you been reading that human newspaper again Marshal?’ “No, Lydia, shut up” ,Are your species sensitive to the stars, humans?, “Nyark you know if I could explain it I would but I honestly cannot”
Good luck explaining Murphy’s Law to aliens who do not have the concept of luck or cosmic mythical interference.
i’m lonely and
i don’t know how to make
it sound like poetry
it’s just that i used to fall into friendships.
it’s just that most days i want to fall into
my bed or
and these bones are too
fragile for show and tell
and i’m like muesli with worse mental health and i don’t want anyone to look at me except that i want everyone to look at me and i don’t know what to say i don’t know what to say i don’t know what to say to anyone anyway and last year my best friend
But really, the more I watch it the more I realise it’s not only a fantastic Ignis moment, it’s a fantastic Chocobros moment in general? REALLY LONG POST AHEAD + UNFINISHED GAMEPLAY WRITING BUT THIS SCENE
Lemme start with Ignis because duh (if you’ve seen anything out of me the past two weeks, it’s probably been Ignis related). He’s been pretty passive about losing his eyesight up until this point. He calls it a minor sacrifice in the grand scheme of things. When Noctis and Gladio fight on the train, Ignis says nothing, even though part of the argument is his own injury. He only tries to stop Gladio by saying his name; Prompto is the one who tries to break it up (more in a moment. anyway not that Ignis really could break it up rn but you know) He’s been optimistic enough about it, though. “I’ll manage somehow” when you invite him into the mines. “This is considerably harder than I expected” he says about fighting. But sometimes you hear the boys say something and Iggy just sort of sighs. They’re dancing around him, and his injury, and the argument, and this scene is where it culminates.
The first time he actually says that it isn’t okay is because of their friendship hitting a low point, rather than his actual injury. But he is so, so aware of that injury and how it has the potential to drag them down. He still says “I would remain with you all. Til the very end” because these are his brothers and he damn well plans to, but that said.
This is the first time we hear Ignis raise his voice, I think. Not including battle cries and the like. Which is saying a lot because this boy is very, very calculated on his emotions. (ie later on when Prompto falls off the train, you hear the very audible difference in Noctis’s voice vs Iggy’s) He’s Crownsguard, Noctis is his king, he will do anything for him, and believes he has no reason to complain even if he has gone blind. But that’s a Big Thing. His yelling in this scene exactly “I know full well!” is finally, finally his frustration coming out and it’s triggered because of their bickering (or anti-bickering, since they aren’t really… speaking much).
He says he is willing to bow out if he starts to slow them down, which imo is like asking him to suffer a physical injury all over again (he is Crownsguard, Noctis is his king, he will do anything for him) but he still will DO IT because he won’t be a burden.
He goes on to give Noctis what, I think, is a much needed confidence boost. “A king pushes onward always, accepting the consequences and never looking back” and in the opening sentences for the next chapter, it literally uses those same words to describe Noct’s reaction to Ardyn’s trick: never looking back. (Also never looking back is exactly what Ignis is doing right now, which is why the choice to focus the camera so much on his scars in that moment is AMAZING.)
He continues with that to tell Gladio that Noct will be king and he will rule, but “only once he’s ready”. And this is SO important. Gladio’s interaction with Noct is painful at least and rage inducing at worst (more below) but not only does Noct need to hear this, Gladio does, too. They can push Noctis into that throne but he will never be able to lead until he is ready, and that involves coming to terms with some very, very heavy stuff that’s been happening. Everybody doesn’t handle grief the same way and they’re all having a hard go at it in very different ways thanks to the events of late.
So all of this makes this the DAMN GOOD IGNIS MOMENT. But it’s also really good for the rest of them, both in mentioned ways and others, but since I’m apparently waxing poetic
Prompto, Gladio, and Noctis under the cut ↓(note: 150% zoom for easier reading)
I have no idea when this happened because I’ve been working flat out on patreon content (soon!) and Hunger Pangs (*anguished screaming into the void*) and a few editing gigs here and there, and thus have had little time to slum around on tumblr this month—at least as much as I’d like. But I guess it’s time for the obligatory welcome to the blog spiel? Yea…yea.
If you’re completely new here you might notice some people calling me “mom” or other variations therein of familial relation. It’s perfectly okay to greet me as “mom” or “tumblr mom” even if we’re not mutuals or we haven’t spoken yet, I’m so used to it at this point I even respond to it in public. ‘Cause that’s a thing that’s happened more than once.
Please have patience if you are sending me asks or IMs. I am but a humble smut peddler with chronic health issues who somehow ended up with a high traffic blog, and a loving and devoted tumblr family. I try to answer everyone, but sometimes things get left behind. Sorry. If you get tired of seeing my health posts, you may wish to blacklist the following tags: #chronic health tag & #chronic health tag: teeth, that way I can bitch and moan into the void and you don’t have to put up with me if you don’t want to.
I hope whatever made you click on me was worth it and you enjoy the content. I try to make this blog as safe as possible for everyone. All smutty content is clearly tagged and under cuts, and if you need me to tag something for trigger purposes, please let me know, I will be more than happy to do so.
Other than that, welcome, hope you’re having a good day and don’t be afraid to come say hi <3
Context: We (the players) are tasked with getting rid of a gang causing problems in one of the city’s suburbs. We have convinced some of the orphan street children to talk to us about what they know. The DM tells us they don’t know much except to avoid a certain place because bad things happen there.