little scale

So I’m watching Natsume Yuujinchou episode 17, “A Chick Hatches,” and I just got to the part where Natsume sews the little outfit for the tatsumi!!! Like, he really just makes it this beautiful, perfectly scaled little outfit in what seems to be very little time.

On one hand, that’s SO ADORABLE, but on another, sadder hand (because most things about Natsume are be sad from some perspective) he had to have learned somehow, and for some reason. I bet it’s a handy skill to have when you’re involved in such regular, dangerous, and athletic encounters with youkai, and don’t have the ability to ask your guardians for new clothes. It makes me wonder what other skills he’s picked up; for instance, we know he cuts his own hair. Natsume’s a very self-sufficient and multi-faceted person, and it’s always interesting to get to see that in the show

Okay, but imagine if...

Cedric Diggory hadn’t died.

Imagine, just for a moment, that when they take the portkey, instead of an Avada Kedavra, it’s a Stupefy that hits him. Or that the AK misses him by an inch, hits a grave instead, knocks him out for a second.

Imagine that everybody forgets about the Hufflepuff boy out cold on the floor, because they are so intent on resurrecting Voldemort. Peter forgets as he ties Harry to that statue. Voldemort forgets as he is dumped into a cauldron full of flesh and bone and blood. And every death eater that comes sooner or later, well, no one tells them about the boy either - there are more pressing concerns.

However, Harry doesn’t forget. Because Harry has been in that sort of situation since he was eleven. He’s used to looking out for others, by now. Hermione and the Troll, Ron on the chess game, Ginny in the Chamber, Sirius and Hagrid and even Buckbeak- Harry always looks out for everyone, and never forgets about anyone, even if they are not really his friends.

So while he stares in horror, while he’s powerless and sees his greatest foe come back to life, a tiny part of his mind is screaming at him to check on Cedric, to get them out of here. Both. Alive.

Now let’s say that the ceremony, and the Death Eater meeting after the resurrection takes time. Lots of it. Let’s say that Voldemort, being the drama queen he obviously is, takes his time, and enjoys every single second of attention he gets from his followers and that Potter brat.

Let’s say he takes enough time for Cedric to come back to consciousness.

He awakes, lying in the grass and dirt, surrounded by bits of stone, his head aching and confused. The cup is laying about, not too far from him, and he could take it to go back but- he’s a Hufflepuff. He’s loyal. He doesn’t forget either, and that’s why, even if he’s confused about why or how he’s here, he doesn’t take the cup and goes searching for Harry.

Now, the tournament is a vicious thing, isn’t it ? Who’s to say to poor confused Cedric that this is not one more, secret, task ?

So Cedric goes looking, wand in hand, ready to fight, because he’s a Hogwart champion - and really, a Graveyard ? That’s creepy. And because he’s on his guard, and he’s moving around silently, no one notices him creeping behind one of the graves. No one notices the Hufflepuff boy, his horrified expression, and his frantic gaze as he slowly understands that no, that wasn’t a task, and that wasn’t a dream either.

Maybe not even Harry, or maybe he does, but that’s not the important thing.

The important thing is that being in Hufflepuff doesn’t make you stupid at all. The important thing is that Cedric is a champion, and smart, and a quick thinker and a hard worker.

The important thing is that Cedric thinks fast, and casts an ‘Accio’ on the cup as he runs towards Harry while he duels Voldemort.

He breaks through the crowd of amazed and struck Death Eaters, catches Harry’s arm with one hand, and with Seeker reflexes, catches the cup with the other.

Cedric lives, and both Harry and him go back to Hogwarts, terrified, bloody, and flinching away from the sudden noise coming from the public. They both live, and thus no one notices that something is amiss immediately, no one sees their wild glances around - as if someone was still out to kill them. The public cheers, and sings the victory of both Hogwart’s champions, and they are suddenly hugged by their families - the Diggorys and Weasleys.

No one notices, and that’s why when the noise dies down, and someone casts a sonorus on them to ask them how they feel about that victory, everyone hears them say, in a still disbelieving and trembling voice.

“He’s back.”

Obviously, everyone is confused, but they start talking, a bit over each other really, but they are in shock - and they say he’s back, Voldemort’s back, and he took my blood, and we were in a graveyard, and I was knocked out, missed most of the ritual, but it was him, yeah, and there were Death Eaters, in a circle, torturing Harry, horrible, had to get away, he’s back, he’s back.

And that’s when the people notice their faces, the blood, Harry twitching fingers - cruciatus - and their wands still clenched in their fingers, as if ready to attack anyone on sight.

This time, though, Harry doesn’t get ushered away by fake-Moody - because Cedric still has a hand gripping his arm, and wont let go for the world. He tells Dumbledore, and their families, though, when the Headmaster asks them to talk “More calmly and clearly, please, young men” at the Infirmary. Barty Crouch Jr is still apprehended, and the real Moody discovered, and it puts their incredible tale in a new, horrific and real, light.

Imagine if Cedric Diggory lived.

Two witnesses of His return. One is Harry Potter, Hero and Saviour of the Wizarding world. The second is beloved Hufflepuff Prefect Cedric Diggory, Hogwarts Champion. Even if people didn’t believe the first, they would believe the second, and vice versa.

Obviously, the ministry doesn’t take it well, but Amos Diggory and the Weasleys, and Dumbledore make a move together. Susan Bones helps her fellow Hufflepuff by contacting her aunt. Together, they get memory evidence - and they even agree on submitting to truth serum.

Because if Harry alone couldn’t do it - or had no idea he could - Cedric is there, and his father works at the Ministry, and he’s a seventh year. He knows more, and he has people ready to help him - and if he asks them, to help Harry Potter.

Sure, the ministry would try to get all this under the rug, but they couldn’t. Because Weasleys, and Diggorys, and Dumbledore, and Bones, and even Longbottom and soon every name that has a contact in Hogwarts - except some of the Death Eaters - are pushing for the truth to get out, and with a bit of blackmail, Rita helps - and this time, the Daily Prophet can’t repress all of them.

Imagine if Cedric Diggory lived, and how the war would have turned.

Imagine just.

Out of Ten - Sherlock x Reader

This idea came to me late, late at night.

Originally posted by avengers-of-mirkwood


It had become a habit, somehow for you to rate things Sherlock said on a scale of 1-10 depending on how okay they were to say. Usually, he was stuck below six.

“Dear God, what is it like in your funny little brains? It must be so boring.”

“Three.” You stated, not looking up from your phone.

Sherlock sent you an apologetic shrug.


“For the sake of law and order I suggest you avoid all future attempts at a relationship.”

“Two!” You blurted, a little shocked yourself.


“You know, (Y/n), sometimes I do wonder how this funny little scale of yours works.”  Sherlock commented one day while he sat flipping through some papers.

“Oh?” You asked, focused more on John’s blog which you were scrolling through than the current conversation.

“Yes.” He threw the papers aside, his full attention now resting on you. “For example, some things get a look of shock from most people but you only give me a six.”

“Well, like what?”

“Well,” Sherlock stood up, “Say I said, ‘Oh this murder is impressive! Beautiful! Gorgeous!’ What would you rate that?”

You laughed, closing your laptop, “Five.”

Sherlock’s eyebrow twitched, a smirk appearing on his lips.

“You aren’t as boring as I first thought.” He said, giving you an expectant sideways look.

“Eight.”

“I’ve even started to enjoy having you around.” Sherlock, strode towards you, slowly.

“Nine…” You said, a little bit confused.

“You might even say,” He said, standing over you, “That I’ve become attached to you.”

You didn’t say anything, just stared up at this strange, strange man.

“I’m going to need a rating.” Sherlock said with a smirk.

“Ten.”

“Brilliant.”

He leaned down, taking your face in his hands and pressed a kiss to your lips. It was fast and confusing, but it was heat and fire and electricity. It felt right, strangely, like there was no where else that conversation could have gone.

Sherlock pulled away from you, staring at you with his head tilted, pondering.

“Twelve.” You stated and a grin burst onto Sherlock’s features.

“Oh good, that’s reassuring.”

“Oh I bet.” So you leaned up and kissed him again, your smile melting into his.


Masterlist

First Contact

This is a very hasty opening section to a story I’m going to write about Humans being the weird ones. For the most part, I’m just going to use the concepts I like and leave out the ones I don’t I also refuse to make the aliens talk like fucking morons such as everyone else does. it pisses me off. there is no reason for them to be both polite and also use regular words instead of sounding like they are vomiting a thesaurus. I also used terms like Light Year and Light Minute even though they are subjective terms applicable only to the ear’s solar cycle because it is better than making up terms that have no context but essentially mean the same thing.


Also, I suck at writing so I apologize in advance.


———————————————————————————————————–


It started three hundred million years ago. The Dareth species was spreading across the galaxy. In only a few hundred years, they had completely conquered it, and had devoted their resources to moving beyond to other galaxies. After a few thousand years, they had taken more and more regions, never stopping, declaring all space to belong to them. But finally, in a supreme effort through the combined forces of 538 hundred species, one galaxy worked together to reclaim their systems. After that monumental and unique victory, the other galaxies followed suit and fought to own their systems again. It took nearly 5,000 years, but the efforts of 247 galaxies containing 350 million species drove the Dareth down to a single solar system.  Trillions of lives were lost from all sides, but the megalomaniacal Dareth were nearly destroyed.

Once they had won, the leading species of the revolution held mass executions, reducing the Dareth to a few hundred children, all in their adolescence. Stripping them of all clothes and tools, they were marooned on a hostile planet in a distant galaxy over 50 billion light years away, devoid of life. The planet was carefully chosen, a careful balance of being able to support life, while also being borderline inhospitable. It was filled with dangerous animals, few edible foods, and was plagued with extreme biomes and fluctuating weather.

No one really expected the children to live, but they thought that they would at least offer the chance. Once they were on the planet, deemed “prison 1”, all species immediately broke contact. And after a few hundred years, they also slowly stopped monitoring the Dareth children who miraculously survived. Since they were children, they were mostly uneducated in the ways of production and the manufacturing of advanced technology, so they initially were capable of little more than cave dwelling and hunting with stone weapons. They developed very slowly, and it seemed that no one had to worry about the Dareth again. After several million years, people referred to them mainly as a mythological monster race, no one really believing that the Dareth really ever existed. They faded into obscurity, eventually remembered only in a legend only history fanatics knew of.

Until one day several millions of years later, that is. An expeditionary task force was exploring a barren galaxy, and came across a primitive radio signal. They traced the source to a solar system a few light years away. Upon entry, they must have triggered an ancient outpost; a message appearing on the main screen. The words were incomprehensible, but a translator ran a few algorithms and after several minutes, showed the message in the crew’s native language. Unfortunately, the message was so short that the software could not fully translate the whole message.

W-rn—: You h-ve e-tered – forb-dde- sector. You h-ve f-ve m–utes before –uthor-t-es t-ke –ct-o-. To        -vo-d arrest, e-ther e-ter your p-ss code or le-ve –mmed—tely for your ow- protect-o-.

A count down timer followed the message.  Unfortunately, the software took a few minutes to translate, and by the time it finished, the counter was in the last 30 seconds.

“What language is that?” Admiral Hot’ath asked no one in particular, knowing full well that all known languages (over 2 trillion) were in the ship’s computer and would have identified it within seconds. Typing a search into the fleet’s contact list, he called the head Archivist “I need you to analyze this message.” He ordered, attaching both the original and translated message to a file, sending it to the Archivist. “Tell me if you think it is an ancient language, or a foreign one.” The female only glanced at it before answering.

“Ancient. I can’t read it, but it strongly resembles Standard Intergalactic it is either a more archaic and older form, or a language that coincidentally is similar to our ancient dialect.”

The admiral nodded in understanding. The message was nothing to be concerned over. The solar system was cordoned off so long ago, that everyone had forgotten that it was even there. Thusly, there were no authorities coming to get them, so they had time before deciding whether to leave or not.

“Sir.” The captain of the flagship interrupted. “Even if no one is here, there is a reason this area was blackzoned, and if anyone finds out we were here, legal actions can still be taken against us.”

He nodded knowingly. “Where did this message originate?”

The communication officer answered. “A small outpost on the planet furthest from the system’s star.” The man brought the co-ordinates up on the main bridge screen. The navigation officer quickly followed up with a map of the system, marking where the planet was.

“We can at least go there.” The admiral said firmly. “If nothing else, we can legally go that far and collect data.” The captain nodded, plotting a course on the map and sending it out to the rest of the fleet.

They planned a small expeditionary force to explore the station and gather artifacts and information. What they found astounded them. It turned out that one of the planets in the solar system was an ancient prison of sorts. The records that had survived was enough for a complete translation of the archaic language, but even so, no one knew who these Dareth were, or why they were exiled to such a distant galaxy, barren of life. No one, that is, except the archivists.

The Admiral again called the head archivist, “Proffessor Lart-tch, do you know who the Dareth were?”

Immediately, the blood drained from the archivist’s skin, the grey flesh turning a sickly white. “T-the Dareth?” she affirmed, hoping that she misheard.

The admiral slowly nodded, grimacing. The reaction was enough to let him know that there was in fact a very good reason they were exiled so far away. “I take it they are not good?”

“To put it lightly.” The female answered. “Though the legend is so old, it is probably exaggerated. But we all thought it was just that. A legend. Or more like a horror story.” She added the end with a shudder. Then with a flash of fear, she started. “We came here because we picked up a radio signal.” Her voice was a whisper, cracking with terror. “We need to leave now!”

The admiral was surprised. “Are they really so dangerous? Only a single outpost was here to watch them, and it was peacefully abandoned.”

“This was a race that had conquered over 500 galaxies. Not planets. Not Solar systems. Not Starfields. Galaxies.”

This time, the blood drained from the admiral’s face. The largest empire recorded in history was a single, unified galaxy. Two was unthinkable. But 500? That was terrifying. “You said that the legend is probably exaggerated though.” He tried to assure himself.

The woman nodded, “Yes, but only in the hundreds. There is lots of evidence that at some point in the distant past, some sort of empire had spread across between two and three hundred galaxies. No one is exactly sure how many, but at that scale, even a hundred off is little difference in scale of even the mightiest empire.”

“H-how did we ever defeat such a force?”

The woman merely shrugged. “The legend is vague on that part. But it ends with a few hundred children being left on a hostile planet with nothing to help them survive. They were essentially sent back to the stone age, and were expected to die. But they didn’t. And they will eventually learn how to leave their planet again and return to kill us all.”

The idea was enough to send a cold stab of fear through the Admiral. “We should leave.”

But before he could give any orders, the communication officer called to him from across the bridge. “Sir, we have received a message via the radio waves coming from the planet identified as Prison 1.”

Another cold stab tore through him. “Can we translate it?”

The officer nodded. “it is primitive, but I have made the adjustments to decipher it. It seems that they are repeating the same message over and over.”

“Is there enough to translate?”

“Barely. It is difficult to read, but it boils down to saying, ‘We are here and want to talk.”

The admiral had no clue what to do. If what he was just told was true, then potentially the most dangerous species to ever live was asking making contact with him, the first foreign species they have seen in millions of years.

After several moments, he decided what to do. “Tell them that we are on the edge of a restricted zone and may not come any closer. We also need to leave as soon as possible before we get in trouble.”

He was visibly shaking in fear, and he knew that there would probably be more messages before they were able to leave. There were still units searching the outpost, and it would take around 30 hours before they were recalled, even if they left immediately. They were 327 lightminutes from the Prison Planet, but that still left time for quite a few messages before they were able to leave.

Sooner than expected, another message arrived. “They are asking if they are in the restricted area, and if they will get in trouble as well.”

“N-no. Tell them it does not affect them.” He stammered out. This was getting out of hand. He was neither a military officer, nor a diplomat and this was something that no one in the entire fleet was capable of dealing with.

Again. A reply much sooner than he wanted. “They are asking why the area is restricted.”

This one was surprisingly easy to answer. “Tell them that we don’t know.” He lied

A few hours later, “They want to know what our protocol for First Contact is.”

The answer to that question was drilled into the explorer so hard, that the words came out before he realized that he was speaking. “Observe and learn until they contact us, then send a survey team to the surface to directly learn as much as possible about the new species. Providing any technological knowledge is prohibited until intergalactic diplomats arrive and officially classify the species and permit trade. Ideally, the envoy will make the decision before any contact. In the unavoidable circumstance that contact is made, we are to treat said species as a Class Three.” He finished, then realizing that the Dareth probably didn’t know what planet classes were, he quickly listed, “Class 1: lower intelligent, incapable of societal structure. Class 2: Upper intelligence, incapable of leaving planet. Class 3: Capable of limited space travel. Class 4: Capable of extended space travel under light speed. Class 5: Capable of FTL travel. Class 6: Capable of Intergalactic travel. And the hypothetical Class 7: Capable of instantaneous travel.”

He listed these quickly, momentarily forgetting the insane levels of danger they were in. fortunately, the message came slower than the others. But it still came. “They are asking if contact takes precedence over the blackzone.”

This was the first question that the admiral was completely at a loss for. The majority of blackzones existed because of environmental dangers the others were for military secrecy and they all took up several solar systems. This was by far the smallest blackzone he had ever even heard of and it did not fall under either category.  “T-tell them that….” He started talking, but he couldn’t think of anything. Fortunately, they didn’t wait for a reply. “Sir, they have sent us a file that seems to be a compilation of their history, biology, anatomy, and information of their planet’s wildlife, fauna, geography, and more.”

“A-are you serious?” he blurted out. The officer nodded. They labeled and organized everything for us. There is even information on their technology and mass medical records. They gave us everything.”

“Are there images of them?”

“Yes sir. Also, they call themselves, ‘humans.’”

“Screen.”

A series of pictures flooded the main screen showing hundreds and hundreds of the Dareths. Some were professional, and some were impromptu. They also greatly ranged in age with varying degrees of quality from brown and a little blurry to full spectral and crisp The newest ones even being three dimensional video. They did not look particularly dangerous, though they did have predatory features. They were bipeds with joint articulation and front facing eyes.  It seemed that they had full body skeletons and were mostly hairless, except for their heads and some of their faces. They were also very diverse. Some had pale skin, some were brown, some were yellow tinted, and more.  On top of photographs and videos, the Dareths also included a single diagram of a Human in a circle. It did not take long for the Admiral to understand that it was a mathematical diagram of the Human’s physiology. “Fascinating.” He whispered. But there was one thing above all else that astounded him. The photographs genuinely looked happy. There were pictures of Humans who were angry and sad as well, but for the most part, they all had kind expressions. If they were the Dareths in the legends, then either they had changed, or they were trying to trick him into letting down his guard.

“Sir,” the intelligence officer spoke up. “The planet has an open network database containing the planet’s combined knowledge. We can cross-reference everything they gave us with that system to see if they deliberately left out information or lied.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think that we have enough time for that. I want to leave immediately.” Though he was still scared, he did not feel like the Dareths were of any danger or were lying to them. To the communication officer, he ordered. “Record and transmit as follows: Thank you, humans. You have saved us much time and deliberation. With this, we can go back and deliver the information you provided to our government and they will decide what to do next. We are merely an expeditionary unit and have no authority. You have provided us with an easy answer to deal with such an abnormal situation. We will leave as soon as possible and return to our home system without delay.”

When he finished talking, the captain spoke. “Sir, the expeditionary force has returned.”

“Good, we are leaving immediately!” he blurted out.

While the fleet left, they received one last message, “Good bye. We look forward to your return.”

Once they were safely in FTL, he ordered the “human” file to be distributed to all of the ships. In the months it took to return to their home system, everyone had poured over the files and read as much as they could. And frankly, no one knew whether they should be terrified or relieved. By now, the legend of the Dareths had spread throughout the fleet, and despite the history of war and violence that was in the files, there was just as much goodness in them. They seemed to be a fiercely loyal people, extremely innovative, and often benevolent to a fault. This was the trouble. There was no solid trend to determine their species overall personality. Even in war, they would often be kind to their enemies even while they killed them. But when they made an alliance, it was not easily broken; and when they decided to help someone in need, they did everything in their power to do so.

And none of that was even touching their bizarre physiology. They could handle an incredibly wide variety of biomes and conditions, they could survive and recover from what most species would consider life threatening injuries, they ate anything and everything, even if it had no nutritional value or was even dangerous to them. They often underwent drastic changed to their physiology for completely aesthetic reasons. And their medical methods were nothing short from horrific. They actually cut themselves open and put the organs of their dead inside their own bodies and survived. They cut out their organs, and replaced parts of their bodies as though they were machines.

By the time they reached their home, the crew had split in two as to the opinion whether the information they had was true or not. Some said that it made sense for such a domineering race to be capable of such things, while the others insisted that the information was designed to confuse them and make the humans seem stronger than they were. As far as the admiral, he was certain that the information was true. It was all nonchalant, and so strange that it didn’t seem right that the Dareth’s purposefully made it up.

He dutifully handed it over to his superior and up the chain it went. A few weeks later, he was summoned before the King. He knew immediately why. What he didn’t know was if it was a good or bad thing. The escort gave him no time to prepare. They took him from his office to the planetary palace across the continent. He was searched and taken into the throne room, the King and his wife lounging on a large sofa while other nobles of high office lined the room.

Admiral Hot’ath walked forward and knelt before the King and Queen “My liege.”

The king was a large man, but his weight was deceptive, he was an intelligent and cunning man who only appeared to be a lazy slob. So when the King looked down on him with his beautiful wife leaning against him, Hot’ath felt a stab of fear just as powerful as the one he felt facing the Dareth.

“So you are the man who says that there a monsters on the edge of the universe?” the King’s voice was slow and deep, but his tone did not seem mocking.

“Your highness,”

“I kid of course.” The king interrupted, speaking just as slowly. “I have read through all of the reports made on the subject and looked at the Human’s files personally. I understand why so many believe them to be the Dareth’s in the old story, and to be honest, I agree.” His voice gave nothing away, he spoke in nearly a monotone.

Hot’ath relaxed slightly. “I am sure that you know, but I feel that it bears repeating. My fleet did not enter the BlackZone. We remained on the edge and only got so close to explore the outpost, which is not against the law.”

The large king laughed, his bulbous core jiggling as it heaved. “Again, I agree. You have done nothing worth punishment. I have ordered your presence to ask your personal opinion on the information. Do you think that it is reliable, or a Dareth ruse?

After a moment, the admiral replied, “May I speak freely, my liege?”

“I insist it.”

Hot’ath took a breath, “I think that it is all true, my liege.” The crowd around them broke out in a quiet deliberation at his statement. “It is all far too strange to have been made up.” He continued. “I feel like it is subtle and presented as normal. If they were lying, then the lies would have been emphasized and presented as proud aspects of their race. But they record these traits as nothing special. I am certain they would be genuinely surprised if they were to learn about our own physiology and how we are so much weaker compared to them..

The king nodded. “I feel the same. But this is far too dangerous to act one without facts. Tell me why you think they gave the files to us if not for deception.”

“I think that it was an act of trust. I believe that they did so because I was hesitant to go visit their planet. I had told them that they were in a black zone, so they understood that I was not allowed to spend time and wanted to make things easy for me. Also, I do not believe that this was in my report, but my Intelligence officer had access to a global network of their combined knowledge. It was open to everyone. As far as we could tell in the short amount of time we were there, they only provided information that was on the network, that is to say, none of this is a secret to them, and they have no problem with others knowing.”

“That is new information.” The king muttered. “New Knowledge New Light.” The old saying seemed especially applicable here. “I order you to go back. I give you permission to enter the blackzone and go to their planet. Keep at least one ship on the edge out of their range. Under the slightest hint of suspicion, have it leave immediately and return directly to me so we know that they cannot be trusted.

“W-why me?”

“Do not misunderstand. You will have diplomats go with you and a small military escort. But you seem to have earned your rank and are capable of subtle discernment. You will not be doing anything more than your regular job, just with the added knowledge that everything could be a lie. I merely need you to let us know if that is the case.

Davai! (Or why Otayuri actually wins the world)


(Tweets by @Aki_the_Geek)

I’ve been thinking a lot about this comment of Kubo-sensei’s. It’s just the most adorable thing I have read in a while. I am not the biggest Otayuri fan, but only mostly because they’re seriously too young for me at this point. I do like their tandem, however, and I am enjoying the attention they are getting recently with the official photos and everything.

This comment, though, just paints such a cute picture for me: Otabek as a god of victory, like a mystical butterfly who ignores and flits past everyone else but chooses to rest on one particular mortal’s shoulder and bless him with strength and victory.

Listen, this is what is great about what Kubo-sensei said. Yuuri Katsuki has the gold rings that connect him to Viktor as his lucky charm - we know this. BUT! Yuri Plisetsky’s lucky charm, on the other hand, is Otabek Altin.

Yuri’s a great character. He is an angry teenager, but also a talented one who has big dreams and the actual skills to achieve those dreams. From the very beginning, we know this. It was even a point he has above Yuuri Katsuki.

He aims to win and does not see what others might consider obstacles. So what if it will be his first Grand Prix? He’s awesome. He won the juniors series. He can win as a senior, too.

Yuri, however, is also very immature. He is pretty poor at expressing himself and seems to shortcut through having to process most personal encounters and interactions by just being angry all the time. Affection for others embarrasses him, which is why he gets so high-strung around Viktor and Yuuri.

(I can’t really blame the kid, though. Those two just have no chill. They’re embarrassing.)

Interestingly though, Yuri seemed to calm down after Otabek came in the picture. It’s a complete 180. Yuri still had that passion, but somehow it became more tempered, less angry and more focused - so much so that the moment Otabek came in, Yuri broke a world record and then proceeded to win his first Grand Prix Final.

I am not saying that it is Otabek’s doing, like an actual god of victory. That would be ridiculous, and it’s more an expression than anything else. The timing is just pretty neat, and isn’t that how people develop lucky charms in the first place? You happen to have them right at the moment of a great win. It is also not as if Otabek was completely useless. He did provide a friend to Yuri, who thus far had been going on without someone he can actually call a friend. Everyone around him were either older than him, a competitor, a mentor or a teacher. I think Otabek calmed Yuri down by reminding him that he can just be himself… well, a cool version of himself anyway. Yuri actually sort of acted his age with Otabek around. For instance, this?

I thought Yuri was kind of cool-guy-posing here - you know, acting chill, even looks kind of smug. Lol, this reminded me so much of my younger brother when he was about Yuri’s age. He was such a useless brat at home and was pissed off at everything and nothing 99% of the time, but the moment his friends came over or one of them called him on the phone, he sort of became this cool version of himself - wittier, sharper, less fidgety. Lmao, his voice even became deeper. Smh at these boys…

What I also love about Otabek’s character is that he reminds us of Yuri’s name. Names are a big deal, okay, and I thought that Yuri being Yurio was kind of like him being a secondary character to Yuuri Katsuki - Yuuri #2, if you will. Ever since episode 2, Yuri is Yurio, and for every episode hence, he is Yurio. It was actually a bit of a shock to me when Otabek yelled this out in episode 11:

I was literally, “Oh yeah, that’s Yurio’s name.” I know Yakov and Lilia call Yurio by his name, but somehow it was when Otabek was calling him by this did Yurio become Yuri to me again. My theory is that it is Otabek’s manner, this I-know-you-call-him-Yurio-and-I-don’t-care-because-his-name-is-Yuri attitude he has going, that is somehow more convincing than anyone else. It is as if no one else matters in his world than Yuri Plisetsky. It is ridiculous to call him by anything other than his name because to Otabek, Yuri is Yuri #1. He probably calls Yuuri “the other Yuri”, “the Japanese Yuri” or just plain “Katsuki”.

So yeah, Otabek enters Yuri’s life and now Yuri has that source of affirmation that is outside family, who is a peer and even a close contemporary. He is no longer fighting alone. Yuri’s a strong guy, but he is still a kid, and at that age people can be quite vulnerable. No 15-year-old is so self-sufficient and self-confident that they can stand on their own at all times - at least not to my knowledge. That is why I love this friendship and why I love that Otabek came along. I think his coming triggered something that Yuri has long been building throughout the series but has yet to stabilize - his strength, his growth, his maturity as a skater as well as a person.

And actually, Yuri did win in the end. I think the series did not celebrate Yuri’s win enough and admittedly, even I was on such a high during those last weeks of the show that I could not be happy for him all that much. Episode 11? I couldn’t get over Yuri’s world record; I did not want to see Viktor dethroned. By episode 12, I still couldn’t look Yuri in the face. I was bitter about his world record and I was bitter about Yuuri Katsuki not winning the Grand Prix.

BUT, it’s time to face it: Yuri Plisetsky is amazing. He won the GPF on his senior debut. He beat a world record. His coach is obviously grooming him to be the next Viktor Nikiforov, and actually, the series has been hinting at it before hitting us on the face with it in episode 11 - Yuuri Katsuki is not the next Viktor Nikiforov, but Yuri Plisetsky is. What is more amazing is that he might even surpass Viktor, especially with Yuuri Katsuki as his main rival. Viktor never really had that one rival to push him up further than he thinks he can. We are told that his wins had wide margins from his other competitors. Viktor only had himself to beat each and every time. Yuri, on the other hand, won by a hair’s width and he knows it. He is even more driven now. He will push himself harder than Viktor ever had pushed himself, and that just might tip the scale a little bit more to future Yuri’s favor.

As for Otabek? Nah, he actually does not need to do anything. He is a lucky charm; he just needs to exist. With him around, Yuri is stable, and that’s all that this talented monster skater needs really.

Lol, look at this guy just watching his favorite so proudly:

“I’m not really needed here, but fuck if I’m not staying put to watch and join the cheering.”

Otayuri actually has a lot more going for them, future-wise. They are young, they are talented, and where Viktor and Yuuri are still struggling and see-sawing between victories and losses, Otayuri actually kept a steady climb. We already know and mentioned Yuri’s wins, but Otabek was also actually that steady character from the very beginning who skated well without question and was even the first to qualify for the GPF.

So, yes. In case you are asking, Otayuri is, in fact, the real power couple of the show.

Lmao, TL;DR - Otayuri just trumped Viktuuri and ultimately even stole their gold. The secondary OTP lowkey just beat the main OTP and I, albeit a hardcore Viktuuri shipper and just an Otayuri bystander at best, still find that really hilarious.

#helpless (hamilton, a writeup)

okay so tl;dr? i cried. i frickin sat there with two teardrops rolling down my face and chin and neck and i couldn’t frickin wipe it away because i was so invested (and also i didn’t want to ruin my makeup) and it was just. it was so good guys. so good.

gushing about the staging under the cut

Keep reading

Alright, so my other sorting post was a little unnecessarily complex, but here’s my final say on the matter:

Gryffindors:

  • Zuko
  • Toph 
  • Ty Lee
  • Ozai

Hufflepuffs: 

  • Aang
  • Katara

Ravenclaws:

  • Mai
  • Suki

Slytherins:

  • Sokka
  • Azula
  • Jet
theatlantic.com
The Myth of Apple's Great Design
The company’s new “spaceship” headquarters shows how its beauty has always been skin deep.
By Ian Bogost

I’m not particularly for-or-against Apple; I was raised using PCs at home and Apples at school, so I’m reasonably familiar with both, though using PCs for work has tipped those scales a little. 

But what I do love is a really well executed hit piece, and The Myth Of Apple’s Great Design is an amazing screed against Apple and its tech philosophy. Well worth a read for the sheer satisfaction of watching someone dismantle an icon so thoroughly. 

What It’s Really Like To Be Chronically Ill

Lauren Anne

Society’s recent obsession with cancer stories and movies like The Fault in Our Stars made me realize that the average person doesn’t know what it’s really like to be sick. Chronically sick. What it’s like to wake up every morning and know you’re never going to get better. No amount of medicine, doctors, surgeries, and procedures can fix you.

I think the reason why people today love to hear about cancer stories is because they are just that. They are stories. They have a beginning, middle, and an end. While that end may not be a happy one, people are satisfied with closure. But my story doesn’t have an end. And people don’t seem to like stories without an ending.

Being sick isn’t as glamorous as they make it out to be in the movies. And unlike cancer perks, there are no “chronic illness perks.” Except maybe those really good lollipops at the doctor’s office. Those are definitely a perk.

The worst part about being chronically sick isn’t the physical pain, it’s the emotional pain that goes along with it. You reach a point where you can’t hold back the tears any longer and suddenly you’re breaking down in the middle of a doctor’s office. You think you can escape the emotional torture; your disease is purely physical, right?

The worst part is that there is no escape. There is no light at the end of the tunnel. There is no happy ending. There is no way to make the incurable go away. We learn to tolerate the physical pain. You have to. But it’s the overwhelming emotional burden that makes you feel like someone is holding your head down in the water. You can fight it, but you can never overcome that crushing feeling. How are you supposed to get rid of an emotional suffocation when the source of it is never going to go away?

Being sick is being stuck in the eternal clutch of the unknown. Any day anything could go wrong, or at least more wrong than it already has. It’s so hard not to feel anxious or depressed or completely lost when all that lies ahead is a giant question mark. You rarely seem to get answers when you are sick. And when you do, they’re often the answers you wish you hadn’t heard any way.

There’s one thing every single sick person wishes for, but rarely gets. Hope. Hope that one day things will get better. Hope that there will finally be a day when your pain is a zero on that silly little scale. Hope that one day you’ll get a glimpse of normal.

I know technically being sick means my genes suck or my body just plain hates me, but somehow being sick has made me better. I may be biased, but I think that sick people — especially young sick people — are some of the best people you will ever meet. Now don’t get me wrong, healthy people are great too. But when you’re sick, you understand things that other people might take for granted.

You learn to love every good second, every good minute, of any of those few good days you might have. You don’t fear death because you’ve already stared it straight in the face quite a few times. You know it’s not important to dwell on the little things. You have more important things to worry about.

So as many times as I’ve wished to be normal for even just a day, I’ve appreciated my life, both the good and the bad, so much more as a chronically ill young person that I ever could have as a regular teenager.

Being sick makes you strong. Being sick makes you weak. Being sick gives you insight and knowledge about life as it eats away at your own. Being sick is the greatest blessing in disguise. It is so much more than just having an illness. It’s having your entire life be taken out of your control, and fighting to get it back. And that fight will never end.

—  “what it’s really like to be chronically ill” by Lauren Anne