not about Bones

What your Mario Kart main says about u
  • Mario:thinks they're a tru fan
  • Luigi:roots for the underdog
  • Princess Peach:always ready to K I L L
  • Yoshi:sins a lot
  • Toad:hates everyone
  • Bowser:trying their best
  • Donkey Kong:not trustworthy
  • Wario:alone on this earth
  • Koopa Troopa:rlly passionate about turtles
  • Waluigi:lonely
  • Princess Daisy:words cannot describe the horror
  • DK Jr:trying their best v2
  • Baby Mario:smoll
  • Baby Luigi:small
  • Baby Peach:queen
  • Baby Daisy:sINS
  • Bowser Jr:attention hog
  • Diddy Kong:shouldn't be left alone
  • Koopa Paratroopa:wing fetish
  • Toadette:cutie
  • Birdo:hella cutie
  • Dry Bones:thinks about the skeleton war a lot, or innuendos
  • Petey Piranha:don't trust anyone who even considers Petey
  • King Boo:doesn't understand
  • Shy Guy:thinks they're cute shit
  • Dry Bowser:thinks they're cool shit
  • Funky Kong:GONNA GIVE IT TO YA
  • Rosalina:either a great person or a creepy guy there is no in between
  • Metal Mario:thinks everyone is less then them
  • Mii:cannot be explained. Leave them be
  • Lakitu:nerd
  • Wiggler:angry at the world and everyone in it
  • Honey Queen:??????? DO NOT LET NEAR U
  • Any of the Koopalings:knows backstory and motives for all these characters
  • Baby Rosalina:trustworthy
  • Pink Gold Peach:wants to watch the world BURN
  • Tanooki Mari:prides themselves on buying dlc
  • Cat Peach:RLLY likes cats, or Peach, or both
  • Isabelle:too precious, too pure for this harsh world
Random Fanfiction!

All Patched Up

It’s been like this since they were six years old. The first time she got into a fight with a boy who called her—and all girls, actually—weak and stupid. She’d kicked him in the shin and then he punched her in the face, giving her a black eye. They’d ended up tumbling around the gravel beneath the swings and attracted a monitor, who came just a minute too late. Kate was sitting on the boy’s back, shoving his face down into the gravel. The monitor had had to practically drag her off as she kicked and screamed.

Afterward, while she was sitting in time out with a black eye and multiple scratches, another boy walked up to her; this one had kind blue eyes and a shy smile. He was a year older than her, but he didn’t look down on her like most of the second-graders.

Understandably, though, Kate was on the defensive. “What do you want?” she hissed at him, her eyes squinted in suspicion.

“You’re bleeding,” the boy told her, pointing to her scraped up knee. Kate looked down and grimaced at the blood dripping down her calf. She hadn’t even felt it in her anger. “I have band aids,” the boy informed her and shoved his hand into his pocket, coming out with a dozen tiny wrappers with different superheroes on them. “Do you want Batman, Superman, Cat Woman, or Wonder Woman? I also have Poison Ivy, but she’s more of a villain, I think.”

“So is Cat Woman,” Kate pointed out.

“Yeah, but she’s not all bad, I don’t think. She has to be somewhat good if she spends all her time with animals, right?” He gave her a lopsided grin and Kate couldn’t help but return it.

“I like Poison Ivy,” she said and his eyes widened.

“But she’s the villain!” he gasped.

“So? She’s tough. I like her.”

He shrugged. “If you say so.” In the next minute, he was kneeling at her feet and pasting the band aid over her scrape, and then his lips.

Kate pulled her knee away from him. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“My mother says that kisses help you heal quicker; don’t they?” He tilted his head like a confused puppy.

“I guess…” she replied, uneasily. “My mom says that too, sometimes.” He smiled and pressed another kiss to her knee. “So that it heals twice as fast,” he explained. Kate rolled her eyes, but smiled.

“What’s your name, anyway?” she asked as he stood up.

“Kate,” she replied. “Kate Beckett.”

“Cool name,” he commented. “I’m Rick Ro—Castle. Call me Castle.”

“What’s your real name?” Kate asked, crossing her arms.

He sighed. “Rodgers,” he groaned. “But I like Castle better.”

“Okay,” she said. “Castle, then. Thank you for the band aid.”

“No problem,” he replied.

“Miss Beckett, you are not permitted to talk to anybody while in timeout; five more minutes,” the monitor said, suddenly, startling both of them.

Kate rolled her eyes and slumped back against the seat. “Bye,” she said to Castle.

“Until tomorrow,” he replied and then walked back into the playground. He smiled at her over his shoulder as he went.

As it turned out, he did see her again the next day. It was after Joey Tiller pushed her off the swing and, before she had any time to react and get herself in any trouble, the monitor was there, grabbing him by the shirt and dragging him away. She didn’t even check to see if Kate was alright.

But Castle did. He helped her to her feet and sighed as he saw her scrape begin to bleed again. He had no more Poison Ivy band aids, so he planted a Superman one on top this time.

“Why do you have so many band aids?” Kate asked him.

“Mother says I’m clumsy because I have very big feet for my age,” he told her and shrugged. He rolled up the sleeves of his sweater to show her the Batmans and Wonder Womans he sported on his elbows and forearms, then rolled up his jeans to show her his own healing scrapes.

Kate’s eyes widened at that. “Maybe she’s right.”

Castle laughed and she joined in, until they were standing in the middle of the playground, giggling like fools.

After that, they were each other’s caretakers. Each time Kate got into a fight—which she was prone to do because of her horrible temperament and the boys’ stupidity—he would be the one sneaking off to the timeout bench to treat her wounds with band aids and healing pecks. Each time he fell and had to get another band aid on his body, Kate would add her own ‘healing’ to it and then he would tell her the story of how it came about. He usually infused it with humor that most definitely was not present at the time of each incident.

When he went onto middle school—which was just right across the street from the elementary school, he supplied her with boxes of her favorite superhero band aids. On days when she would get into fights, they would meet after school so that he could ‘heal’ her. After a while, rumor began to spread that Kate had a boyfriend in middle school, which then led to more teasing and fights. Most of the boys at her school had the mark of Kate Beckett (usually a black eye) and the rest were too scared to do so much as look at her.

When she got to middle school, which was filled with twice as many kids, most of whom knew nothing about the fury that resided in her tiny body, she got into even more fights. This time, Castle could heal her when he visited the principal’s office (which happened often, because he liked to play pranks on teachers and students alike. Sometimes, though, he received awards for his essay-writing and Kate would tease him about being a nerd).

The rumors about Kate Beckett and Rick “Castle” Rodgers multiplied tenfold in junior high, but neither of them seemed to care in the least. She was his best friend and he was one of hers. And neither Lanie, Esposito, nor Ryan cared whether or not they were dating. Castle was just Kate’s personal nurse and they thought very little of it.

The fighting got worse when Kate was in eighth grade and received braces. Kids would tease her, she would punch them, they would punch back…and, well, broken wires and rubberbands weren’t exactly something Castle could fix, but he did patch up a cut on her cheek once. It was the first time his lips touched her face and they both felt a shock that neither wanted to acknowledge.

He went to a high school blocks away after that and could only sometimes visit to patch his friend up. He left her with more band aids, but she refused to wear them, embarrassed by the faces of superheroes she once loved. Castle, like a mother hen, would tut at her until she finally put them one, praying that they would stay hidden beneath ripped jeans and tops that showed more skin than when she was just a little kid.

He was still adamant about kissing every little bump, bruise, and cut, though. Kate didn’t mind.

She lost the braces in tenth grade and instantly became a school knockout. Boys who had teased her mercilessly before were now vying for her affection. Luckily, she had the sense to flip them off and walk away. Castle was known as the puppy at her heels and walked her to every class, stepping in every time she was catcalled and threw a punch at some douchebag with a sneer on his lips.

Less often now did she get injured and need any ‘healing’ but Castle still hung around, keeping her safe and out of trouble, despite her weak protests.

“I can take care of myself, Castle,” she would growl at him.

“Physically, yes,” he’d respond, “but you gave three guys black eyes last week and you nearly castrated Josh Davidson last Monday.”

“He groped me!” she hissed as they walked to class.

“I know,” Castle said, “and just like you did, Esposito and Ryan are taking care of him. But you have to learn to control your anger—at least until you’re outside and won’t get suspended for wrecking him up like you d—“

He tripped. Somehow that big old lug who had, they thought, outgrown his clumsiness as he grew into his shoes, tripped. Over absolutely nothing. How even?

Everybody stared, and a few laughed, as Kate Beckett, who was tall but still a full head shorter than him, got Castle back to his feet. “You alright, clumsy?” she asked, chuckling.

“I thnk I bi’ mah tonggg,” he said, rubbing his jaw. Kate laughed and dragged him to a nearby alcove, as the halls began to empty.

“Let me see,” she said, her soft hands cupping his jaw. Castle stuck his tongue out at her and blew a raspberry, but groaning.

“Tha’ hurth,” he moaned. Kate rolled her eyes and held his jaw still as she checked over his damaged muscle. Two teeth marks were clearly evident in the center of his tongue and she winced in sympathy.

“Ooh,” she said, “that’s pretty harsh-looking, but you’ll survive. Sadly, though, we are all out of mouth band aids, so you’ll have to stick it out.” She began to back away and he pulled her back.

“Awen’t you gonna heaw it?” he asked.

“Castle, I am not kissing your tongue,” Kate hissed, blushing as she looked around. He gave her his puppy dog eyes and she rolled hers. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to kiss him—sometimes, she really wanted to—but what would that do to their friendship. Would it make things terribly awkward after ten years together, or would it be a new step? Would it even be that big of a deal?

Only one way to find out, a tiny voice in the back of her head said, and Kate sighed, taking the plunge.

Castle’s eyes widened as Kate Beckett’s lips pressed firmly against his, her wrist still held firmly in his hand. He had only been joking about the healing thing; had just wanted to get her all riled up. He had never actually expected her to…

And, oh, her tongue was brushing against his now, the pain barely discernable against the pleasurable shocks he was feeling. Castle’s eyes slowly drifted closed as he leaned into the kiss, his hand abandoning her wrist in order to wrap around her waist, pull her closer.

A tiny moan emitted from Kate’s throat and he echoed it, fitting her body completely against his as he reciprocated and raised his hand to bury itself in her lock, wavy locks. When they pulled back, they were both panting, Kate rested her forehead against his jaw for a second and Castle couldn’t resist pressing another kiss there.

She smiled. “Feeling better?” she gasped, looking up into his beautiful ocean blue eyes.

“Never better,” he replied, his lisp and pain both gone. “But I could use some more healing.”

Kate laughed at that and shook her head. “Maybe after school,” she told him. “Right now, I’m late for English. And I’m pretty sure Lawler’s going to kill you if you skip another gym class.” Castle groaned at the reminder and she laughed again. “Don’t worry, Castle,” she said, “I’ll kiss away all your bruises.”


Did modern humans wipe out the Neanderthals in Europe?

  • by Dr. Darren Curnoe

“Our closest evolutionary cousins the Neanderthals continue to fascinate scientists and pre-historians. Fossils and DNA strongly suggest we shared a common ancestor with them, genetic clocks placing the split between us in the range of 550,000 to 765,000 years ago.

Our fascination stems from the fact they are our closest evolutionary cousins; we have hundreds of fossils from them, so have a pretty good idea what they looked like; and they were the first extinct human species we knew about, with Neanderthal bones found discovered in the first half of the 19th century. Neanderthals have historically also represented the archetypical brutish caveman in popular culture. Each year dozens of research articles are published examining almost every aspect of their biology and behaviour, as gleaned from the fossil and archaeological records they have left behind. 

When and where did they live?

The Neanderthals occupied Europe for at least 200,000 years, but our knowledge of them further east is much sketchier. We also know they lived in West Asia, with their skeletons found in several caves in Israel and Iraq dating between around 140,000 and 50,000 years ago. They inhabited Southern Siberia as well, particularly the Altai Mountains, about 50,000 years ago, occupying the same cave as the mysterious ‘Denisovans’, a closely related but probably distinct species from them.

But, whether they were there at exactly the same time as the Denisovans is anyone’s guess. Given the extreme cold associated with the glacial (cold) phases of the Ice Age, their occupation of Siberia probably wasn’t permanent either. In Europe, for example, they are known to have retreated south during these extreme cold phases, so probably had limited tolerance of extreme conditions, despite their sophisticated culture” (read more).

***Haven’t read it.

(Source: ABC Australia)


We are assembled here today to pay final respects to our honored dead. And yet it should be noted, in the midst of our sorrow, this death takes place in the shadow of new life, the sunrise of a new world; a world that our beloved comrade gave his life to protect and nourish. He did not feel this sacrifice a vain or empty one, and we will not debate his profound wisdom at these proceedings.


Marvel’s Daredevil - 1x02 - Claire Temple

Imagine Kyungsoo carefully laying down next to tao while he’s sleeping one night, and moving so that he is right next to tao’s injury.

Soo then softly purrs hoping that this will help strengthen tao’s ligament and aid in recovery.

homsantoft asked:

11, adoribull for the kiss thing. sending ABSOLUTELY EVERYONE asks for this because fuck yes. hi.

collarbone kiss

For such a thick guy, there’s a strange bird-like quality to Dorian’s bones. They jut out, sharp as a glass shard, from his body: wrists, ankles, the top of the V of his pelvis. The vertebrae, lined up straight as an arrow on his back, with shoulder blades like wings on both sides. The ribs, caging in all of Dorian’s soft pieces. The collarbones, the dips above and between them, the skin covering them so thin and taut it’s almost transparent–the Bull thinks that they are indecent. That the whole of Dorian is indecent, flawless, stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Breakable.

Or maybe it isn’t; maybe it’s just the size difference messing up with the Bull’s mind. He knows that Dorian isn’t an easy man to snap, that anyone stupid enough to try would get a fireball to their face faster than they could get the words Katara, bas! past their mouth.

But the thought lingers.

The Bull puts his thumbs to Dorian’s hipbones; they fit perfectly, dimensions equal, Dagna couldn’t match them better. Dorian stirs in his sleep. The gray light filtering through the half-broken blinds and the cracks in the roof isn’t doing him any favors, but the Bull sure as hell isn’t going to point it out; not when he’s finally gotten Dorian to stay the night.

Or maybe he hasn’t; maybe Dorian was just too exhausted to leave, and nothing the Bull did or didn’t do made any difference. He presses harder, Dorian’s bones digging deep into the meat on his thumbs. Cut me, cut me, cut me, the Bull chants in his head, something big and dark crushing his lungs, filling his veins, going to his head like the worst of Cabot’s ales. Dorian’s answering move is to open his thighs wider around the Bull where he’s lying between Dorian’s legs, hook his calf around the Bull’s waist, let out a soft snore before settling in in his new position.

The Bull won’t wake him.

It was terrifying to learn, after the Qun lost his hold on him, that deep in his core the Iron Bull is a selfish, selfish man.

Gently, he takes his hands off of Dorian and lifts up Dorian’s left leg to roll away from him, but he can’t resist last fleeting touches. The palm to the sides–firm, to not tickle–the fingers to the chest, the Bull is slowly crawling up Dorian’s body to lie back down beside him when Dorian kicks him, the heel hitting just where the thigh and butt meet. It’s a light kick, a mild reprimand at most, but it catches the Bull unawares.

“Bull,” Dorian mumbles, his voice rough and quiet. “If you’re done doing whatever it is you’ve been doing–and let me tell you, it put a really nasty wrinkle on your forhead–get back here,” Dorian pats the pillow to indicate exactly where he wants the Bull, “and let’s get the fuck back to sleep. Andraste’s flaming arse,” he adds, like an afterthought.

The Bull can’t help but smile even if it’s a small, private thing. When he looks up, Dorian’s face is smushed into the pillow, visible eye open, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a stark contrast to the tips of his moustache that flattened during the night and are now pointing down. The dark thing running through the Bull twists one more painful knot in his stomach and dissipates, his head instantly getting lighter, as if the air in his lungs contained more oxygen. It should make breathing easier. The Bull isn’t surprised to learn in doesn’t. Still. “Whatever you wish, Kadan,” he says  and crawls up the last inches, kissing Dorian’s collarbone as he goes.

It’s a light kiss, soft and warm, warmer than Dorian’s skin under his lips, quick but unfaltering, not fleeting, not fleeting at all.

Something wild was here and you
are not alone. Landfill, we have a
question for you, about the bones
of things. Library, we have questions
about the bones. We spend our
nights saying it wrong, and yet we
run so you can dream of running,
so you remember, good or bad, that
the world glows bright.
—  Richard Siken, “Confession,” featured on the Rubin Museum of Art website
idioms to match the signs
  • aries, whistling in the dark / to be confident that something good will happen when it is not at all likely.
  • taurus, by the skin of one’s teeth / barely. Usually used in regard to a narrow escape from a disaster.
  • gemini, sly as a fox / you must be cunning as a fox to outwit me.
  • cancer, on a wing and a prayer / hoping that you will succeed although you are not prepared.
  • leo, between the devil and the deep blue sea / choosing between two equally unpleasant situations.
  • virgo, come hell or high water / no matter what happens.
  • libra, tempest in a teapot / uproar over a matter of little or no importance.
  • scorpio, shed crocodile tears / to show sadness that is not sincere.
  • sagittarius, make no bones about it / to speak frankly and directly.
  • capricorn, blood and thunder / a speech or performance that is loud and full of emotion.
  • aquarius, cutting your eye teeth / gaining experience in a situation you’re new to.
  • pisces, still waters run deep / quiet people are often very profound.