it just seemed appropriate at the time

What if a lot of alien species didn’t actually evolve as pack species, and just adapted to living in communities out of necessity? So they can still work and live together, but they don’t have all the little instincts humans have that help them work in a group.

And they are freaked out by us.

We all wear the same clothes. It’s not a uniform— we just somehow all seem to like roughly the same outfits. We fit in so naturally with the people around us that you can use a human’s clothing to tell what country and what time period they are from. Aliens have no idea how we know what clothes are appropriate— they end up having to hire humans to act as fashion consultants after several incidents where diplomats showed up wearing mismatched clothes from various time periods and countries and looking totally ridiculous.

And what about yawning? Aliens who work on human ships say they never fully get used to hearing one human yawn and then having the whole room start yawning along with them. Or telling a joke to one human and seeing humans who say they don’t find the joke that funny cracking up anyway because “their laugh is so infectious!” It’s a common practical joke to tell new nonhuman crew members about this horrible disease humans get, where they feel tired and have an uncontrollable urge to open their mouths. It’s deadly, they say, and very contagious.

New safety procedures have to be worked out for the humans because, on the one hand, you don’t have to go around telling each individual to leave. Humans will just follow the mob. On the other hand, though, you have to be careful not to spread panic, because if one human runs, they all will, and they’ll trample anyone who isn’t fast enough to stay ahead.

Aliens hear humans tell their kids not to give into peer pressure and just get really confused. “Why would they do it if they don’t want to?”

“Because their friends are telling them to do it!”

“But why do it just because they’re telling them to do it?”

“Because they’re their friends!”

“What does that have to do with anything?”


When aliens see earth movies about people being indoctrinated or turned into zombies, it takes them a while to realise that these are horror movies because, from their perspective, that’s just what humans are like.

You wake up in a field just outside of ancient Rome completely naked, with a bag. Inside the bag is time period appropriate clothes, and a tablet with all of Wikipedia on it, as well as a charger and what seems to be a nearly infinite source of energy for charging.

2

It’s not like we weren’t warned. Rumors had long swirled about the sound of former One Direction heartthrob Harry Styles’ upcoming solo career taking inspiration from ‘70s rock staples Queen and David Bowie, and Styles’ own fashion statements of recent years certainly telegraphed his interest in being considered part of the British rock continuum. But still, it can’t help but be a little shocking to hear Harry’s solo debut “Sign of the Times” for the first time, to hear that thudding piano intro give way to soaring guitar and dramatically sighing vocals. It’s strangely disconcerting in how familiar it all feels.

Throughout the song’s nearly six-minute run time, the memories of British rock history shoot off like fireworks – spanning from late-period Beatles to Bowie to Listen Without Prejudice-era George Michael to Suede to Robbie Williams and even early Coldplay. It doesn’t sound like a tribute to (or rip off of) any of these artists – it just sounds like someone who’s grown up studying at the feet of all these titans and now wants to try his hand at joining their ranks. And to Styles’ considerable credit, he basically succeeds: “Sign of the Times” is as lighter-waving, arm-swaying, random-mate-hugging a power ballad as they come, sounding – as many have pointed out on Twitter on this somewhat apocalyptic-seeming of Fridays – like the appropriate montage soundtrack for the end of the world.

But whatever IRL timeliness the song’s strength-in-weariness lyric delivers, musically, the song’s title comes off as pretty ironic. Fact is, “Sign of the Times” couldn’t sound much less like 2017; a pop era where rock music is viewed as increasingly archaic and even the biggest bands – no shade to LCD Soundsystem – seem to be trading in their guitars for turntables, or at least some enormous synths. To hear Harry’s big return keyed to a song built around Elton John piano and George Harrison guitar slides is pretty jarring: Ten years ago, the song would’ve felt somewhat safe, 20 years ago it would’ve felt downright pandering, 40 years ago it would’ve been Eric Carmen’s “All By Myself.” But right now, it feels practically subversive.

And you know what? The rock part of it isn’t even the most surprising thing. What’s really staggering about “Sign of the Times” is just how goddamn British it is. Look at the paths the other One Direction members have taken since the group went on indefinite hiatus: Louis is making EDM bangers with Steve Aoki, Zayn is trying to catch a ride on Drake’s luxury liner and Niall (Irish, not British) is making Mumford-via-“Hey There Delilah” folk-contemporary. Hell, look at 1D themselves: Their last few albums were heavily rock influenced, but took cues from Fleetwood Mac, Journey and Def Leppard – the latter a U.K. band, but one way more popular with American audiences – rather than anything proudly British.

Styles, meanwhile, practically sounds like he’s draping himself in the Union Jack and yelling “Yanks Go Home.” He’s created the perfect song for British rock fans who wish Glastonbury would go back to more traditional headliners, who wonder why 20 years after Be Here Now essentially ended the Britpop moment, nobody seems interested in picking up Oasis’ mantle. (The Gallagher brothers will probably hate it.) In the U.K. as in the U.S., the entire musical mainstream seems to be going global, and that’s mostly a good thing, which has led to some interesting and boundary-breaking music at pop’s center. But there’s something undeniably refreshing about a huge pop/rock song with this strong a sense of its home country’s musical history and identity – you just don’t hear much of that anymore, coming from anywhere.

It’ll be fascinating to follow what radio does with this song. It doesn’t sound like anything topping the charts on either side of the Atlantic, and it’s just about impossible to imagine American top 40 stations scheduling six minutes of this in between Chainsmokers and Bruno Mars jams. But less than a day into its lifespan, the song already seems to be striking a big enough chord – it rocketed to the top of the iTunes charts within hours of its middle-of-the-night U.S. release – that it might soon prove equally impossible to imagine the biggest stations ignoring it entirely. If this really is the film soundtrack to the end days, then cue the Don LaFontaine trailer voice: IN A WORLD where pop was ruled by trop-house and Ed Sheeran, ONE MAN dared to try to bring British rock back to the mainstream. Let’s sit back and see how this unfolds. - Billboard

Pulling double duty, Waititi plays the 8-foot-tall Kronan warrior made of purple rocks. Korg was originally supposed to have only a few scenes, but Waititi manages to flesh him out (via motion-capture suit) substantially.

“You’ve got to understand that Taika Waititi the actor is an incredible person to work with,” the director explained. “When Taika Waititi the director comes across someone like that, it just seems appropriate to give that actor a bit more time to show what they can do. I did that, and my theory was correct. I was, he was that good. As an actor, I highly valued Taika Waititi the director, who was very generous to me in giving me a few more takes than everyone else, and really let me show what I can do.” –Taika Waititi interviewed by Meredith Woerner for L.A. Times 

Throughout the song’s nearly six-minute run time, the memories of British rock history shoot off like fireworks – spanning from late-period Beatles to Bowie to Listen Without Prejudice-era George Michael to Suede to Robbie Williams and even early Coldplay. It doesn’t sound like a tribute to (or rip off of) any of these artists – it just sounds like someone who’s grown up studying at the feet of all these titans and now wants to try his hand at joining their ranks. And to Styles’ considerable credit, he basically succeeds: “Sign of the Times” is as lighter-waving, arm-swaying, random-mate-hugging a power ballad as they come, sounding – as many have pointed out on Twitter on this somewhat apocalyptic-seeming of Fridays – like the appropriate montage soundtrack for the end of the world.
—  Sign of All Times: Harry Styles’ New Single Is 50 Years of British Rock History In One Song - Billboard

anonymous asked:

Dude can you do a continuation of the sparrow thing where hanzo gets nicknames at overwatch and his reaction to it

Heck yeah I can, and I’m gonna make it McHanzo-flavored to boot

—–

Hanzo follows Genji to Overwatch after a couple of months, after the knowledge that he lives has eaten too far into him to ignore. Genji is wary, as he should be, but nonetheless incredibly pleased that Hanzo has joined him.

The first time Genji calls him Brother, for the first time in ten years, Hanzo excuses himself after and has a panic attack in his room.

People in Overwatch are … friendly. More or less.

They all start with that distrust of him, that is true, and he doesn’t blame them one bit. He is surprised they allowed him to join them at all, and probably would have thrown them off the high Gibraltar cliffs if Genji hadn’t vouched for him.

Genji has other names, now; everyone refers to him with fondness. Lena calls him Luv, which Hanzo learns is a general term of endearment for her. Lucio and Hana call him Ninja, which strikes Hanzo as a little too literal. 

Most of them call him either Hanzo or Shimada-san, depending on how aware they are of Japanese honorifics. He expects epithets more like Murderer or Traitor. It would be no less than he deserves.

The only one who doesn’t shy away is the cowboy, who doesn’t call him much of anything outside of partner, the same way anyone else would say friend.

“I do not think they want me here,” Hanzo admits to Genji one evening. Because why would they?

“They do,” Genji assures him. “You are a valuable asset. And they like you, when you’re being pleasant. Do not worry, brother.”

Hanzo manages not to have a panic attack this time, but it’s a near thing.

When the nicknames do start, Hanzo is startled, almost afraid. 

Lucio’s nickname for him is Legolas, a reference that Hanzo doesn’t understand but is assured is appropriate–and once Reinhardt hears it, he is nothing less than ecstatic and also starts saying it. Lena’s is still Luv, like it is for most people, or sometimes Broody if she’s teasing. Hana just call him an old man, which he accepts in good humor because he probably does seem old, compared to her. It is better than what she could be calling him. 

McCree eventually calls him Archer, but Hanzo thinks he would not mind him just calling him by name just to hear it in McCree’s rich, drawling voice.

One of the things McCree calls everyone else is an odd one: Darlin’. It’s the kind of thing one would expect to hear only between significant others, but McCree just shrugs and says, “I dunno, I don’t really notice when I say it. I just say it to people I like sometimes.”

Hanzo monitors its usage. McCree mostly calls the women darling, moreso when he’s trying to be sweet (or get something) and with the people he’s known the longest. Once, he even says it to Genji.

Hanzo realizes he has never heard it aimed his way. When the realization hits, his stomach twists and churns with cold, vicious jealousy. For a brief second, he hates that once again, his own brother is being shown the kind of affection he never is.

Horror and shame dawn on him immediately after, and he can’t bear to look Genji in the eye for the rest of the night.

McCree kisses him one night, after a mission that was just this side of too close for comfort. Hanzo accepts it, kisses back, takes what he can before McCree realizes his mistake.

But McCree never shows a hint of regret, and Hanzo doesn’t have the courage to end it before he ruins it. 

After that night, McCree’s names for him take a turn: now it’s darling and sweetheart and, on one or two occasions, gorgeous. Hanzo sometimes forgets that these terms are aimed at him, sometimes that they’re aimed only at him.

They’re not really nicknames, Hanzo realizes after a little while. They’re pet names. Affection. Perhaps, he thinks wildly, maybe even love.

Hanzo can’t remember if he’s ever called anyone, aside from his family, anything but their name. But he tries it one night, takes McCree’s word and turns it back to him, the word darling feeling unfamiliar and childish as he murmurs it against the warm skin of McCree’s neck. 

McCree says nothing, but he grins a bashful sort of smile, and Hanzo resolves to make that the only thing he ever calls him again.

Daddy. (Joshua Smut)

Hey everybody  i am so so sorry that i’m so late, we moved houses and there is nO FUCKING INTERNET  so i had to live on shitty data, it’s been hell for me but i know it’s even more hellish for everyone considering you’re all so thirsty.  but yeah, so i hope you enjoy this i’m so sowwy it took so long but it’s here, i had a great time writing this daddy one, AND I WILL BE HONEST I SCREAMED RANDOMLY WHILE WRITING THIS JUST SAYING. I’ve been working on many stories at once, so that i’ll be able to finish them at the same time so i’m working really hard, PRAISE ME PLS.  also, thank you all for being so patient, i know it’s hard, also fucking whAT. there are so many of everyone now.  we can’t help but feel overwhelmed and happy by how many you guys are, what should we call you ugh. I love you all so much, and honestly in my opinion this 2017 will be a good year for this blog we will improve ourselves in order to make everyone reading happy/horny, maybe this year juuust maybe, you’ll be able to get to know us better.  well only if you all want to.

ALSO IF ITS NOT THAT GOOD IM SORRY BUT I DID MY BEST SO, IM SORRY AHSHUSDBIDBD

also credits to shwua for the gif
-admin kate x

warning: contains daddy kink, rough sex, spanking and SIN. if this ain’t your thing then we have a lot of other stuff to choose from.

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Chickens are wildly individual beings and don’t you dare be fooled for one second into thinking otherwise. When I was a pretty smallish child my parents allowed me, for some unknown reason (they were not responsible adults is probably the reason), to purchase with my own money two bantam chickens from a flea market. I had a little banty rooster named Rocky and a tiny banty hen named Ginger. It was a perfectly lovely arrangement even though I sucked at naming things. I loved those jerks with my whole heart and everyone thought that was adorable.

Now, my grandfather hired a neighborhood man to do a lot of odd jobs. This man was named Stanley and, though I can only think fondly of him, he was personally responsible for a hugely traumatic aspect of my childhood. One day, you see, Stanley arrived with a gift for me. “I hear you like chickens,” he said presenting my family with the most gorgeous animal I had ever seen. A beautiful orangey head fading into iridescent greeny-blue wings, long proud incredibly green tail feathers, red eyes that seemed to glow (soon I would learn this was from the Fires of Hell), and the proudest crown and wattle anyone had ever seen. This rooster was massive too, and not just to someone who is quite bitty, he was a lot of chicken. Now, naturally, I was elated. “Let ‘em out, let ‘em out!” I begged as soon as it seemed remotely appropriate to be a bother. My grandfather, ever indulgent, proceeded to do this. The first act of this new addition to my home, never a safe place but never so dangerous as it would soon become, was to almost murder my grandfather.

You see, what I did not know at the time was that roosters have something called ‘spurs’ which are effectively leg knives. If you are imagining that these cannot possibly be dangerous then I am going to change your imagination. My family, two young children included, gathered around. Soon my pretty new pet would be free to puk and bok about the yard I believed. My grandfather opened the transport cage and everything was, at once, a mass of feathers and blood. Unleashed the chicken lunged instantly for his face and neck. Fortunately he was able to throw up his arms in protection which resulted in a huge gash that must have been bone deep for how it bled. This being of raw malevolence rushed at the assembled crowd causing much screaming and cowardly running. If I am recalling correctly my mother actually scooped up my sister before she fled to the safety of the house. I don’t remember how, or even if, we corralled the devil. But I do know, precisely, my grandfather’s words as he calmly wrapped his bloodied arm in one of the handkerchiefs he was never without, “Mean little bastard, ain’t he?”

The coalesced mass of violence was named. He was called Bully and my entire family has war flashbacks when that profane name is mentioned. My father was Bully’s second victim, his spurs managing to slash through his jeans and cut open his leg nastily. After this event it was not decided that we had to get rid of this monster masquerading as a bird. It was decided, instead, that he was to be de-spurred. For the uninitiated this involves a terrified child holding a ball of raw evil while an adult twists that evil’s most deadly weapons off with a pair of pliers. I am told this process is painless but I regret that it did not inflict that demon with some amount of pain because as soon as I dropped him he hit me full in the chest with an untellable fury and I was crying when I made it to the safety of the house.

Thus began a series of years where outside was a PVP zone. My parents laughed when my sister and I rode bicycles because we were always perused by Bully running full tilt, intent on committing a violence against us. We had a hen house and chicken run built but nothing could fully contain this beast. For years a standard accompaniment to leaving the house was a broom handle. Why? Because there was a likelihood that you were going to be viciously assaulted by the unkindest animal as has ever walked this forsaken earth. Now, whacking a psychopathic rooster with a broom handle does not actually dissuade it from continuing its attack, but it does keep it a distance away from you that you might get to safety. Running was futile and foolish but we resorted to it often. Bully knew the exact time we got home from school. Every day without fail he was in the driveway, waiting. Broom handles became standard equipment in every vehicle. My father would amuse himself by sending his children out to fight the chicken and we would do it because my sister and I have always been desperate for approval. This is one of the rare instances where my mother didn’t even try to stop him. That unholy creature loved sneaking up on her when she was putting clothes on the line and any time a child was battling it was a happy time for her.

I must impress on you, I have no idea why we didn’t get rid of Bully because he terrorized us constantly. Everyone laughed that we were so tormented by a bird. Their laughter ceased the second they set foot on our property and met the hellion in person. Collecting eggs during those years was always met with tears as I trudged to my task and inevitable beating from a rooster. Once Bully got frostbite in his comb and my father carried him lovingly in his arms to get him treatment from the vet. This was a complicated relationship we had with our awful pet. Bully was also, for the record, a serial rapist who would pounce on hens with no warning and not a single one of them ever wanted it. I’ve had other roosters that are flawless gentlemen in this area and have cute courtship dances. Not Bully.

Anyway, one day a man showed up at our house for reasons I don’t recall. My parents were both artists and my dad is constantly into some nonsense or other so it could have been anything really. “Watch out for the-,” one of us began before being cut off by a delighted gasp. This was followed by the elated question, “Is that a fighting rooster?” We confirmed that it absolutely positively definitely was the most fighting anything on this or any other plane. “Oh wow,” the strange man continued with a dreamy smile, “I’ve always wanted one!” Anyway, we gave Bully to him with repeated warnings that this was a terrible mistake he was making. I never saw that man again and to this day I have a sneaking suspicion that Bully was somehow complicit in his undoubtedly bloody death.

hyenatycoon  asked:

Question! I saw your post about your bird yelling "what" and I was wondering if you could tell me how you were able to teach him to announce when he's about to poop? I feel like that would be a very useful trick to have!

Soooo once upon a time I thought I could potty train Ripley to stop pooping on the floor/my chair/me, and to do this I would take him to the trash can at regular intervals (about every 20 minutes bc birds poop a lot) and wait for him to poop. When he would squat like he was about to poop, I would say “go potty!” or “poop!” … I guess we never had a lot of consistency about that, but he did start to pick it up and announce “poop!” and/or “go potty!” right before he pooped, and we always praised him for saying that in the appropriate context, so he seemed pretty into it. Also, along with the many other things he has in common with human toddlers, he apparently just likes talking about poop.

I don’t think I kept up this training at regular enough intervals, though … I’d get busy drawing or reading something and forget about timing and Ripley would say “poop” and I wouldn’t get him to a trash can in time. So he just learned that saying “poop” and pooping on the floor would get everyone to look at him and watch him poop.

He does seem to remember that pooping in the trash can gets him some accolades, though, so if you take him to a trash can and tell him to poop, he’ll always make an effort. It seems for him this is win/win, as he either poops (more or less on command) in the trash can and gets praised for it, or he poops wherever he feels like it and we come to clean it up anyway. Although he IS capable of holding it, he doesn’t seem to think there is any incentive to do so.

I’m less certain of how he learned to demand “you clean up poop” whenever he poops on the floor.

Reminiscence (Calum imagine)

Summary: You spend Valentine’s Day reminiscing

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: This has to be one of my favourite things that I’ve ever written :) Please pay attention to the dates and times! It begins in the present, and then there are a series of flashbacks. They’re all in chronological order for ease of reading, but please pay attention to the timings if you’re unsure!

This is for @calumsbicth and @calsdream‘s Valentines!5sos blurb night!

Originally posted by hemmoxhood96

Present day, Valentine’s Day

With a cream envelope held between your fingers, you can’t prevent the smile from spreading across your lips. A greying memory slips into your mind, your eyes fluttering to a close as you let yourself get taken away to the land of fantasies.

Valentine’s day, two years ago, 1pm

“Y/N!”

At the sound of your name, you looked up.  You were in a park, sitting on a picnic blanket. Surrounding you were hundreds of tiny daisies, scattered amongst the green grass like a sprinkling of icing sugar.

“Hmm?” You looked across the blanket to see Calum, your boyfriend, with a wide smile spread across his face.

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Marinette Cake

Marichat May Day 2: Purring

Ao3 Link || Other Works

Summary: Chat Noir was very hungry.

And Marinette smelled nice.

Really, really nice.


Meant to be a short drabble, became longer and lead to an identity reveal. Oh well, it was fun to write. c: Hope you enjoy!


Chat Noir was just going home after a lunchtime akuma, and he was starving. He could feel his energy draining from him, and if it weren’t for the suit, he’d probably be collapsed somewhere, starving to death. Then he would die and his father would be arrested for parental neglect. Ladybug would never know what happened. His classmates would mourn…

Speaking of classmates.

He stopped on top of the school when he caught a glimpse of one Marinette Dupain-Cheng, holding a sack of flour on her shoulders. She and her father seemed to be unloading some sacks from a delivery truck right outside their bakery. He watched as Marinette put down her sack next to a small towering pile and roll her shoulders as she entered the truck to grab another one, passing her father who had one sack on each shoulder.

He whistled as she easily hoisted another one on her shoulders, impressed. He never knew she was that strong. She always looked so small and soft that seeing her easily carry a sack of flour that was half her size and probably twice her weight was quite a nice surprise.

Chat Noir would be a terrible hero if he didn’t go down there to lend a helping paw. Maybe he could ask for a croissant as repayment. Just one. He was just so hungry, and they were nice people so they’d at least give him one, right?

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nigenontheintrnet-deactivated20  asked:

Check. Your. Submissions. I've been trying to reach you for a while now because my kitten has had ear infections and they haven't gotten better. I've been trying to reach you because I needed to know whether it was something that could be treated at home or something that is an emergency or not. I've been trying to contact you about him through submissions because I really did not feel safe or comfortable asking out of anon. Well, now I have to.

I’m sorry, but by contacting me anonymously through submissions there was no way to respond to you without posting you submission publicly. I haven’t done that because I am not a vet and do not give that level of medical advice - if you think your pet has a health issue and you don’t know what to do, you need to be consulting a medical professional rather than expecting a blogger without a medical degree who cannot see your pet to provide you a solution.

I am posting this publicly because It seems like an appropriate time to reiterate that when people message me looking for medical advice the only answer I will give is ‘see a vet’. I am happy to discuss potential behavioral aspects after the animal has been cleared by a vet, and will sometimes note pre-vet if a worrying behavior is something not commonly thought to be injurious, but that’s really it. If I publicly posted every submission or ask that looked for information outside my scope just to say ‘I can’t tell you talk to a vet’ this blog would be swamped, as I have close to seven thousand messages in my inbox.

I understand you’re upset I didn’t respond to your specific post, but I’ve made clear over the type of advice I give here, and it is not appropriate to frame me as responsible for your choices about whether to get your pet medical care. Please get your pet the medical attention that it needs.

(And readers, please be considerate in your responses. My feedback is already fairly firm and I don’t support harassment of folk who interact with the blog even if I really don’t like their choices).

I Own You - Yandere!CEO!Baekhyun X Reader

Originally posted by daenso

Yandere AU - Part of the Yandere!EXO X Reader Series

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Smut (Prostitution)

Pairing: Baekhyun X Reader ft. Jongdae

Words: 10,244

Warning: This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: I hope you’re as excited about this as I am! Finally, the next instalment of the Yandere!EXO Series is here! Yay! Sorry it took so long to post, I wasn’t anticipating it to be this long. Once again, this is just my interpretation of this archetype and the song. I do not believe Baekhyun, nor any of the other members, past or present, of EXO would act like this. Feedback is always greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

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the funny thing about the whole ~~cora is appropriating asari culture~ thing (and by funny i mean extremely frustrating) is that it not only ignores all dialogue she has not just with ryder but with the other squadmates, but it’s the literal opposite point of her arc and character. she says multiple times that she loved her unit and that she learned a lot, but she was very aware that she wasn’t one of them. she was accepted and treated like family, but she wasn’t actually like them. not even because they ever made her feel unwelcome (the opposite seems to be true), it’s just that she knew

but she never pretends to be something she isn’t. hence her belief (and desire) for the initiative to be a fresh start, and a place where everyone has a chance and for them to be welcome. she even has a few banters where she talks about how the way forward for the initiative isn’t for all the different species to become reclusive - that in order to grow, alien cultures need to be willing to learn from each other

but i mean why pay attention to that when you can hate and mock her for something that isn’t true lol 

Raven & Yang, or: Bird mum vs. Firecracker

…and can you make a long post just about Raven’s facial expressions in one scene? Yes, I can. 

Well, it’s also about what she says. 

I watched this scene over and over again, especially because it ended up being so different than how I expected it to be. I think it was really interesting and there might be a lot more to it than we know by now. 

We probably all had our expectations. Raven being mad at Yang. Raven not wanting to talk to her. Raven being a major bitch to her. All in all just Raven disappointing Yang and all her expectations. 

Turned out it would be the other way around. 

Look at Raven when she takes her mask off and says Yang’s name. Her voice almost sounds soft, and just look at her face. 

But immediately after that moment she switched into a more theatrical mode (that word just seems appropriate, also she’s literally standing on a stage). She talked to Qrow in the same way at first when she met him in that bar back in Volume 4. Big words, big gestures, not talking about what’s really on her mind. There’s a pattern here. Raven puts on this stage persona to be in control of the situation. 

Raven acts like… she is acting. Cocky, sassy, confident. It seems like a mask (actually she’s wearing an actual mask, what is that for?) and it slips sometimes, but what is really behind it? 

Raven says “So after all this time you finally decided to visit me” and… that sounds like she actually waited for her to visit her. Her offering to answer all of Yang’s questions sounds like she has been thinking about this, about the questions Yang might have and the answers she wants to give her. We always thought Raven didn’t want to talk to Yang, but what if she did? 

What kept Raven from talking to Yang? She could have easily stepped by considering her semblance and the bond between them. Did she wait for Yang to be strong enough to find her? Did she believe Yang had to find her first, earn it? Is it something we don’t know about yet? 

But Yang just gets angry. Understandibly. She has searched for Raven and now Raven acts like it has always just been up to her to find her. The interesting part here is that Yang calls Raven out on knowing she has been looking for her. How does Yang know Raven knew? Did Tai tell her? But how would he know? Qrow?

Also look at how her hand is shaking again. 

“Family. Only coming around when they need something.” For a moment I’m almost convinced Raven is actually hurt. But what does she expect? Does she actually expect more? Is she more talking about Qrow here? 

“I have to say I’m disappointed. After all you found me, didn’t you? Why not take that drive and use it to find your little sister if she really means that much to you.” I think she really hoped Yang would be there for her and not just because she wanted something. It sounds like she really is disappointed. 

Also I can’t leave out her face when she mentions Tai. 

Tai explaining Raven’s semblance to Yang and knowing that Yang and Raven have a bond leaves the question how much time Yang and Raven actually had to bond after Yang was born. Was Raven still with Tai when Yang was born? Did he ever see the two of them together? Or did Raven leave when she found out she was pregnant and dropped Yang off on his doorstep after she was born?

That Raven doesn’t trust Ozpin but trusted him once is something I suspected for quite a while. Her facial expressions are quite telling here. There must be a story behind and, she won’t let Yang go without telling her all about him and I can’t wait to hear that. 

“Maybe you take a moment to wonder if you’re already where you belong.” Raven wants Yang to stay with her tribe. She already gave up fighting Salem, because this fight is “too big for all of us”, she just wants to survive, she wants to make sure her people survive, and to her not picking a side seems to be their best chance right now. She offers Yang to stay with them, she thinks she belongs with them, her tribe, with her. 

The tribe, at least in Raven’s eyes, is the safest place for Yang right now. “You don’t want to get caught up in all this, Yagn.” She wants Yang to survive. 

“Oh, aren’t you stubborn.” The way she looks at her, almost… fondly. Maybe she sees herself in her. 

“I get it from my mum.” 

“Well if that’s how you feel then it sounds like we’re done here.” 

And here I am lost because yes, this is a major “Fuck you” towards Raven, but everything Yang has said so far was a big “Fuck you, mum”. Why does this cross a line for Raven? Or is she just done with this in general? 

But when she turns around she almost looks sad. 

When Raven realises Yang and Weiss know each other she just sighs and immediately stops treating Weiss like a prisoner. She gives her her weapon back and wants both of them in her tent to talk about Ozpin. Not just Yang. Both of them. 

Even though Raven just said they are done she won’t let Yang go without telling her the truth. Something she thinks Yang needs to know. Maybe she still hopes Yang will change her mind about Ozpin. Maybe she just wants Yang to survive. 

Raven seemed way more sympathetic than I expected. This is not how someone would act who doesn’t care about Yang. Remember, she literally bonded with her before she left. Raven loves her, she clearly does. She still isn’t a good mum, but I think there is much more to her than we all expected. There is a story behind this and I can’t wait to find out what really happened and why she left.

It’s heartbreaking to watch. Yang rejecting her and being so much like her visibly upsets Raven. 

Yang and Raven are both hotheaded and determined. Of course they clashed. They are too similar. Yang is so Raven’s daughter.

We have yet to find out why Raven really left, but I think we will get answers soon. But this scene was amazing and I can’t wait to get to know Raven better.

I’ve been collecting the odd one liners and strange sentences our Dark Heresy II inquisitorial goon squad has said in our most recent mission.

“I like murder, but only when it’s appropriate! there’s a time and a place for bloody dismemberment!” - desperado
“I like breaking their knees too much to be honest” - arbite who seems to only rolls to hit legs in melee

“I didn’t have to give away my drugs, that’s useful” - our desperado ooc after convincing an enemy merc guard to let him take over guard duty. He then blew up the ammo dump being guarded, and burnt off his arm and is out of it for the rest of the mission.

“I /was/ flanking the tank, it just turned around” - on a leman russ pivoting and burning two guardsmen and a replacement character for said desperado. 

“come join me in my tunnel” - female arbite to the heavy weapons guy

“I am in the business of taking bodyparts. Somehow.” - weird psyker after collecting a guardsman’s arm the heavy’s arm, and an eldar wych’s leg.

Grammys part two: Josh Dun imagine

Y/N: Y’all this went from hardcore fluff to hardcore smut reaaaaal fast. Lol jk. No, but really. When the boys lose their pants the fans lose their shit. Anyways, I’ll shut up now. Enjoy.

Anonymous said:
Omg, please do a sequel to grammy??????? 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Part one: http://thepatricktreestump.tumblr.com/post/157222084267/grammys-josh-dun-imagine

*continued female reader, light smut

“Okay, I didn’t know what you meant by taking off your pants, but now I clearly do,” Jenna burst out laughing as you all entered into the restaurant and took a seat. “Goodness gracious you guys.”

“I bet you were staring,” Tyler smirked. “I’m sure you were.”

“Shut up,” she rolled her eyes as you all sat at a table, opening up the menus.

“You’re all dressed awfully fancy tonight. I assume you all just got back from the Grammys. Twenty One Pilots, right?” the waiter smiled.

“That’s us,” Tyler grinned proudly.

“Sweet,” the waiter beamed. “Anything I can get you guys at the moment? Drinks?”

“Yeah that sounds good,” Jenna nodded. You had all decided to go out for a celebratory meal after the awards. You had settled on a nice Mexican restaurant, not too fancy, but not too casual either.

“Hey,” Josh nudged you beside him. “Check your phone.”

“Why?” you stared at him, confused.

“Just do it, baby,” he insisted.

“Fine,” you sighed, picking up your phone but your expression slowly fading away into uncomfortableness as you read the text he had just sent you.

J: Did you like what you saw on stage tonight?
Y/N: Fucking behave. We’re at dinner.

You glared at him and he turned his head away, acting unfazed.

J: Answer the question.
Y/N: You know I always like what I see when I’m staring at you
J: Yeah but how did you feel?
Y/N: Wdym?
J: All those people staring at me, all those fans probably lusting over me, and you there, watching me tug down my pants…

“Hey!” Jenna snapped. “He’s asking you what you want to drink.”

“Huh?” both you and Josh looked up from your phones, turning red, staring at the waiter.

“Anything to drink?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, uh yeah,” you stammered out. Josh just looked at you, pretending as if nothing had happened. The waiter took your drink order and walked away, Tyler striking up a conversation about some of the performances.

“What if you guys performed?” Jenna laughed. “You think you’d bring the hamster ball and giant confetti canon to the Grammy’s?”

“Oh I’m sure we would figure something out,” Tyler nodded. You felt your phone buzz in your lap and you shot Josh a glare before opening it.

J: Stop leaving questions unanswered babe
Y/N: Stop texting me dirty things and actually pay attention to the conversation
J: I am
Y/N: Jenna and Tyler invited us here to celebrate, not to be antisocial
J: Answer the question
Y/N: Fine, sure. I was turned on. Is that what you wanted to hear?

“Don’t you think, y/n?” Jenna wondered and you flickered your eyes up, completely lost in what they were talking about. There was a second of silence before she hinted you on. “We’d get the drum kits and just make the crowd hold them up?”

“Oh definitely,” you gave a fake laugh before glancing down at your phone again, angry and annoyed at Josh’s attempts.

J: How turned on?
Y/N: I might be turned on but I’m about ready to turn my phone off if you keep this shit up
J: I’m not even doing anything
Y/N: Sure…
J: You wouldn’t dare
Y/n: Watch me
J: Don’t

“You guys, okay? You seem pretty distracted,” Tyler finally brought up the obvious.

“Just a lot of people congratulating us,” Josh shrugged. “Sorry, it’s probably not the appropriate time for this.”

“You’re right,” you quickly agreed. “I say we turn our phones off for the rest of the dinner.”

“Smart idea,” Jenna smiled at the proposition, but you caught Josh giving you a death stare beside you. You quickly shut off your phone and put it face down on the table, watching as Josh slowly did the same.

“You’ll be sorry you did that,” Josh murmured under his breath, just enough for you to realize. You swallowed uncomfortably, trying to ignore his comments. What was he so worked up about anyways? Geez.

“Do you think we’ll get invited back?” Tyler joked.

“Most likely,” Jenna nodded. “You guys are so talented. You’re bound to win another.”

“Then we’ve got to take it up a notch,” Tyler decided. “What’s more attention grabbing than standing up there in our underwear?”

“Oh I’m sure you two could think of plenty of things,” Jenna chuckled softly. Your hand was laying in your lap when you felt Josh lay his hand on top of yours underneath the table. You drew in a sharp breath and Tyler gave you an uncertain glance for a second before dismissing it, and you exhaled, trying to ignore it. Maybe he was just trying to hold hands.

“We’ll go streaking next Grammys!” Tyler cried.

“No way,” Jenna shook her head, stifling her laughter. “Not on my watch.”

“I bet y/n would love to see that,” Josh smirked and you narrowed your eyes, apparent you didn’t find his humor amusing. You felt him grab ahold of your wrist underneath the table, lifting your hand off your lap and moving it towards his leg, then down, resting your hand right over his crotch, his hard on becoming extremely obvious. Shit, of course he’d pull something like this. Especially now without the texting. He laid his hand on top of yours again, pressing down and your felt your cheeks turn red, trying to act nonchalant as you were being guided on how to grope him underneath the table.

“You okay, y/n?” Jenna softened her eyes. “You look sort of uh…”

“I’m fine,” you shook your head. “I think I just need to use the restroom and clear my mind for a little bit. I think I’m a little dizzy from the Grammys, all those people and the lights and noise and stuff.”

“Okay, take care of yourself sweetie,” Jenna replied. “We’ll be here when you come back.” You tried to get up but Josh grabbed your arm, grip tight around your wrist. You tugged several times but he wouldn’t let go until finally you swiveled your arm out of his grasp and snatched your phone off the table, marching off to find the bathroom. Of course, when you got in, there were several texts from Josh. So much for the not using the phones thing.

J: Get your ass out here right now.
Y/N: I don’t know what the fuck is up with you tonight
J: You know exactly what’s up with me, stop playing stupid
Y/N: I don’t know if it’s just cause you won a Grammy so you think you can be cocky and all, but you’re acting like a total dick, Josh
J: I just want you baby
Y/N: You’re the one who said yes to dinner!
J: You’re the one who said no to texting
Y/N: And look where that led us
J: We can always ditch
Y/N: Shut up, that’d be so rude. Jenna and Tyler have been nothing but nice tonight
J: I just really want to fuck you, I saw you in that dress when we walked in the restaurant and maybe it’s the lighting or just the adrenaline rush from being on the stage or me taking my pants off earlier, but I really need this right now baby
Y/N: I know I want it too
J: Then please
Y/N: After dinner
J: During dinner
Y/N: No
J: Fine. Either way come out right now. Jenna’s getting worried and she’s gonna check up on you if you don’t show soon.
Y/N: If I come out, will you behave?
J: Sure
Y/N: See you soon
J: Love youuu
Y/N: Love you too, dimwit

You took a deep breath and collected yourself before heading back to the table and sliding in the seat beside Josh, plastering a smile on your face. “You feeling better, honey?” Jenna wondered.

“Yeah I’m doing just fi-” you couldn’t help but stop midsentence as Josh put a hand on your upper thigh, resting it there above the fabric of your dress. “Fine. I’m doing fine.”

“Okay…” Jenna shrugged.

“Did you feel sick?” Tyler frowned, looking worried and concerned. “I think Jenna has some painkillers in her purse if you need it.”

“I’m fine, r-EALLY,” your voice wavered as Josh tugged up the fabric of your dress to your waist, both your legs bare and exposed underneath the table. Fuck.

“You sure?” Tyler insisted, sensing something was off.

“Yeah, honessssssssssst,” you reassured, ignoring the way your voice dragged out at the end when Josh’s thumb dipped underneath the waistband of your underwear and slid the fabric down your legs to above your knees.

“Just relax, sweetheart,” Josh reassured, sly smile on his face only you could detect. Hell, and to think Tyler and Jenna thought he was being sweet. You bit down on your lower lip hard when you felt Josh’s fingers brush past your clit and rest against your folds.

“Who’s ready for some appetizers?” the waiter wondered, smile on his face as he approached.

As soon as you were about to answer Josh’s fingers pushed into you and you let out a moan, everyone at the table turning their attention towards you. “Ohhhh those sound delicious,” you tried to recover. “Mmm god, appetizers? That just sounds so, oh fuck-” Josh began to pump his fingers in and out of you, staring at you above the table as if nothing was even going on. “I’m so hungry. Appetizers, hell yeah.” You were doing such a shitty job at covering up your act but it was the best alternative you could think of at the moment. Your legs were starting to shake and you could barely speak.

“Someone’s um, particularly hype for appetizers,” Tyler commented.

“I love me some good fooooood,” you moaned the last part as Josh curled his fingers inside of you, hitting your g-spot. “Shit, food is so great. Damn.”

“Someone really likes food,” the waiter chuckled, looking confused and uncomfortable, almost everyone unable to understand what your problem was.

“Come on baby,” Josh prodded. “Why don’t you order something?”

“Sure,” you glanced at him, noticing the way he was trying so hard to suppress a smirk, then flickered your eyes back to the menu. You attempted to cross your legs in hopes of Josh quitting it but he only rammed his fingers deeper inside of you and you gasped in your seat, Tyler and Jenna whipping their heads towards you.

“Okay, spill it,” Jenna demanded. “What’s wrong?”

“Something’s wrong?” the waiter softened his expression. “Uh, is there anything I can do to help?”

“I just think I need to get some fresh air,” you shook your head. “Josh, um, why don’t you come out with me for a little bit?”

“Sure,” Josh agreed slowly. “Whatever you say, babe.” He slowly drew his fingers out from inside you and you took the opportunity to slide up your panties and tug down your dress, then grabbed Josh’s hand with a tight grip and basically dragged him out the door.

“You’re fucking dead,” you hissed, tugging him outside and to the back of the restaurant.

“What do you mean?” he raised his eyebrows, acting innocent. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you demanded, tugging him to a place without windows or cars or pedestrians and quickly surveying the area before crashing your lips on his, pushing him back into the wall of the restaurant, slamming his body against yours and grinding yourself down on him. Your sloppy, messy, desperate kisses became more heated and you finally pulled away, staring into his eyes. “Don’t pull that shit during dinner ever again. I hate you.”

“You fucking love me,” he rolled his eyes. “You know you were just as turned on as I was, baby.”

“I still am,” you murmured, tilting your head back as he sucked on your neck, his lips trailing down your skin.

“Dammit you look so good in this dress,” he sighed. He traced the outlines of your body with his palms, sliding them down your figure, resting at your hips when you took a step away. “Where you going baby?”

“To dinner,” you snapped. “To behave.”

“You’re going to leave me like this?” he frowned, disappointed. “Come on, I’m dying here and I’ve already tried everything.”

“Listen up, Joshua,” you sighed, walking closer and poking a finger in his chest, glaring up at him. You leaned in close, remaining eye contact, lowering your voice to a whisper. “When we get home, you are going to get in that bedroom with me, and you’re going to receive another big award with yours pants off. But that’s never going to happen unless you behave, understand?”

“I like the sound of that,” he smirked.

“Good,” you decided. “Now come with me and let’s order some fucking appetizers.”

anonymous asked:

Hi!! Just wanted to say I absolutely love your writing! If you're still taking prompts could you write some an analogical fic, maybe where Logan is pining or decides that *logically* they'd make the perfect couple and decides to use logic to persuade Virgil he's right? No worries if it's not your thing tho <3

Logan sat at his desk, hands in his hair and frustration on his face.  He couldn’t even close his eyes without seeing his face.  That cute little smile, the way he covered it when he laughed, the way he chewed on his hoodie sleeve-

“Ughhhh!” Logan groaned and threw his head back, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing them fervently.  This had to stop!  He had no time to deal with mushy, disgusting, lovey-dovey feelings!  No matter how much Virgil made him want to deal with them.  Gah, this was so not fair!

True, logically speaking, if any of the sides were to be together, it made sense that it would be the two of them, right?  Virgil was very fond of pointing out issues and questions that Logan easily answered and solved.  Logan also kept Virgil grounded, kept him calmer and happier.  Happier enough to see that cute smile - OK ENOUGH!  

The two of them together would most certainly benefit Thomas, Logan believed.  After all, his anxiety working through issues with his logical side makes sense, and the more time the two spend together the less anxious - oh, who was Logan kidding.  Certainly not himself.  When this dumb crush, this infatuation, begun to grow, he was not thinking of Thomas’s health!  Why throw him into this awful mix?!  Logan groaned and dropped his head down, banging it gently on the desk.  He had to get rid of these feelings, restore his sanity and get some peace.  He had to tell Virgil, that was the only way.  With renewed vigor and some excitement in his step, Logan shot up out of his seat and propelled himself toward the door - 

Wait.  What if Virgil didn’t reciprocate?  Or worse, what if Virgil thought he wasn’t serious?  After all, as the embodiment of Thomas’s worry and anxiety, Virgil had a very difficult time with trust.  Many times when one of them tried to be nice and give kind words, Virgil immediately defaulted to “you’re just saying that,” or “don’t lie to me; I know you hate me.”  Logan wasn’t sure at this moment if he could handle hearing that come out of his crush’s mouth.

And, just like that, Logan backpedaled all the way to his bed and flopped down face first.  This was impossible to deal with!  Why him?!  Then, an idea popped in his head.  He could write a letter, a stone-hard, cold and concrete letter of his seriousness.  

Logan snatched up a memo pad from his desk along with a pen.  Twelve cited sources, four Teen Vogue quizzes, and 16 points later, Logan had his essay, properly MLA formatted and ready to send under Virgil’s door.  He produced an envelope and neatly tri-folded the pages, tucking them in.  Logan didn’t lick the envelope closed, finding that utterly disgusting.  Instead he simply tucked the opening inside.

Quick as a flash, Logan darted out his door, down the hall, and threw the letter essay under Virgil’s door.

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