not exactly what i had in mind but

Flowers and Inks

Prompt: “I work at a flower shop and you’re a tattoo artist from across the street and you always come in here to practice drawing flowers and you’re really hot” AU by @aesocias.

Word Count: About 3,900.

Warning(s): Swearing, cheesy flower symbolism, all the fluff.

Author’s Note: Modern AU; Sirius Black x Reader. I’m just going to admit that this isn’t my best work and I’m sorry. But I hope you enjoy, nonetheless! Working on a Remus one next. :)

MASTERLIST

Keep reading

I’m not even sure if anyone pointed this out yet, so sorry in advance if this isn’t new.

Anyways, here’s my question. Why exactly did Rick erase Jerry’s memory of Sleepy Gary? Did Jerry request to get it erased just like Morty had? Or did Rick erase it at the request of Beth? Another thing that I noticed is that Rick erased Jerrys memory of the Apples Campaign. Does that suggest that Rick erased Jerry’s memory of what happened to him in the simulation? Or are these just random Easter eggs? Also, if Rick has Morty and Jerry’s Mind Blowers does that mean he’s got some for Summer and Beth?

Am I reading too much into this? Probably…

anonymous asked:

What exactly is it that Snape loves about Potions?

It’s the first class that he excels in, largely because he had access to his mother’s brewing materials and equipment before school started. I headcanon that his mum makes basic healing potions and sells them for a bit of extra money (though they’re careful to sell them as muggle “tonics.”)  Severus grows up picking herbs by the side of the river with his mother and tending to their garden (which is small and patchy, but it’s there).  Tobias doesn’t mind brewing all that much because it looks like cooking and he doesn’t care to see the difference. It’s one of the only bits of magic that Severus is able to do before Hogwarts and he takes to it like everything else magical.

He loves potions because they can “bottle fame, brew glory and even put a stopper in death” but he also loves them because they take his mind off of other things- the chopping and stirring and waiting is therapeutic for him. It quiets his anxious mind.

And besides, once it’s done, it can be sold or used, and Severus also uses his talent to tutor his fellow students to save up for all the things his mother and father cannot afford.

I am SO happy

So about 4 days ago my brother was working in the yard and he was getting rid of this big old plastic pot we had that was already falling apart. To fit it in the garbage bag he had to smash it into smaller pieces with a shovel.

But when he dumped out the dirt….

…eggs. Ten little eggs.


My mom brought them in to show me. Not knowing what they were or if they were dangerous or not, she asked me if I wanted to take one and open it up outside to make sure it wasn’t full of baby bugs or something. I told her that they were definitely reptile eggs but she was still giving them the ‘I-still-don’t-trust-that-they-aren’t-bugs’ look.

I knew there was no way it was full of bugs and I wouldn’t be able to get it off my mind if we cut one out and killed it. But then I remembered candling.

If you don’t know what candling is, it’s when you put a flashlight under an egg to check if it’s fertile or not.

So I told her to hold on and I ran to get a flashlight.

Lo and behold they were not bugs.

It was our first time ever candling anything so we weren’t exactly sure what to look for. The only videos I had ever seen for candling an egg was a video talking about how some geckos lay eggs without a mate but there is a rare chance they could be fertile anyway; the eggs in the video were always empty though. So we checked all the eggs and they were all alive and responsive. I managed to convince my family that I was 99% sure they were lizards of some kind.

Since we kind of accidentally destroyed their nest and a storm was coming we set out to give them somewhere safe to hatch.

 We got a pot and filled it with damp dirt like the one we found them in but smaller. After candling each egg, we made a divot in the dirt and placed each egg half in and half off, careful not to turn them too much and damage them.

My mom did some research and found that the eggs needed to be kept somewhere with good humidity so we got a plastic book crate, drilled some holes in it, and filled the bottom with wet paper towels.

The mystery eggs were put in the garage where it was just as hot as outside but safe from the huge thunderstorm.

Day 2 of eggs and nothing happened. We didn’t think anything would happen just yet but we were all a little worried that we were doing the wrong thing. It was my day to go finish up cleaning up the dirt and shards from the broken pot in the yard when I found another egg.

I picked it up and it wasn’t as firm as the others. In fact it was leaking. I called my mom and candled the little guy. He was just as alive as the others were. There wasn’t much room in the new incubator with the other eggs so we got a tiny beta fish tank we haven’t used in years and fixed it up for the egg. We put it in the garage next to the others.

Now this egg had me worried. He had been out in the storm with a damaged egg. I would go out and check on him throughout the day. Not a thing happened and I was starting to worry that he didn’t make it.

Day 3 of eggs was interesting. I went out to check again on little egg 11 with my mom. She asked how the others were doing and wanted to see. It was fogged up on the inside so I shone a light through and saw it. A head! A little baby lizard head poking out of the egg! 

The incubator was taken inside and everyone was gathered around the table. We would all switch from watching the eggs, to someone doing research, to checking the eggs, to setting up the empty tank we had, to checking the eggs again.

All together 4 little lizards were hatching. They’d kick for a bit in their eggs but then fall asleep because it was so tiring. 

After a while my mom got concerned about one that hadn’t opened its eyes in ages. It wasn’t moving. I picked up the egg and put it in my hand. I rubbed the shell and gently gave it little tugs. Then out the baby came!

This little guy came out healthy and fast. After a brief look-around he ran out of my hand and back into the pot. Then over the edge of the pot to explore the hides we fit in. 

After 4 of the babies fully hatched and we figured out what we were going to do, we put the incubators in the spare tank we had so we could keep an eye on them. At that point it was a little past 1:00am and a 5th egg started to hatch.

Day 4 of eggs and lizards we went to the local pet store to get something that these super small babies could eat. Luckily, Petco carries super small crickets and meal worms. We loaded up on reptile supplies: bus, vitamin dust, hides, heat lamps, you name it we probably bought it.

Upon getting home my mother and I readied the tank.

At that point all but two eggs had hatched. One we thought wasn’t going to make it because it didn’t react when I candled it, and the other was number 11 who was found a day late and broken. We decided to move the two into one incubator instead of two while we moved 9 of the lizards into their temporary home.

When we look for them they were hiding in the incubator all curled up together under a plant we had put in. They actually seem to do that everywhere they decide to hide which is kind of surprising to me. I thought they were going to all be really territorial with each other. But they seem to like each other more than I thought they would.

After a few hours, number 11 hatched and he was just as healthy and fast as the others despite being through the storm earlier. Not too long after that, the last egg hatched. He was much smaller than the others but equally as fast. We added them both to the tank with the others and they hid as quick as a ninja.

Day 5 of lizards was mostly setting up heat lamps and lights and worrying if they were okay. They stayed hidden under rocks and brush. We never saw them eat so we went back to researching.

Day 6 of lizards and they are alive and well! They’ve taken a liking to the new heat lamp and have been scuttling around there all day. I even saw one eat a cricket! 

Even the smallest of the bunch was enjoying himself in the warmth :)

I will continue to take care of them until it comes time to release them back to their natural habitat. I’ll keep you all updated. It’s such a strange and wonderful learning experience :) 

ALRIGHT NEW LION SWITCH EXPLANATION inspired by a discussion with @bisharpshooter as a tangent from this

the lion chooses its paladin and forges a mystical bond with them. these lions have already chosen their true paladins. their choices for new paladins are for the sake of their true paladins. 

BLACK

in s2e1, black only responded to keith because shiro was in danger and keith could save him. in that same episode, shiro told keith that he wanted him to lead when shiro was gone. 

in s3, shiro was gone, and although allura is the “decision-maker”, black chose keith.

it all comes back to the trust between black and shiro, something that grew between them throughout two seasons. it’s the foundation of their mystical bond. 

black has been used and abused by zarkon, but shiro respects her and knows that she cannot be commanded. this has earned black’s trust. if shiro truly believes in keith as the leader of voltron, then black will trust that.

EDIT: as an anon pointed out, keith was talking to shiro when black chose him, making it even more obvious that black is carrying out shiro’s wishes, not her own. black literally responded in shiro’s place here, trying to tell keith, as shiro would, that he can lead the team. 

lance even said, “i respect its choice” when black chose keith. by extension of respecting black’s choice to trust shiro’s judgment, lance and keith are trusting shiro’s judgment as well. the very thing that keith doubted so much. 

furthermore, this would add significance to black rejecting the shiro in season 3. she didn’t reject him because he was unworthy or because she’d moved on; she rejected him because she does not trust him.

TLDR: the mystical bond between black and shiro is founded on trust. black chose keith because shiro chose keith, and she trusts her true paladin’s judgment. 

RED

red called out to lance only after keith literally called out to lance for help. essentially, red called out to lance because keith called out to lance. her desires mirrored keith’s. if keith wanted lance to be there, then by god lance would be there. 

get in, lancey lance, we’re going shopping to save my son.

throughout s3, lance looked out for keith both physically and emotionally, more so than any other character. without his help, it’s not fun to imagine what would have happened to keith and the rest of the team. 

red has demonstrated on two major occasions that she is very concerned with keith’s welfare and will do anything to keep him safe. this is particularly interesting, since she was so temperamental when she first met him that she waited until he was about to die to let him in. the foundation of their mystical bond is protection

we know that lance in particular is great at keeping keith safe, even if he wasn’t before… (hmmMMMMMMMM. HMMMMMMMMMMMM.)

furthermore, allura emphasized that red must have chosen lance to be keith’s right-hand man, to which lance said, “i won’t let him down.” he explicitly made the connection between red calling out to him and keeping keith safe. this is red basically saying, “please keep my idiot son from getting himself killed. be his impulse control, i believe in you.” 

TLDR: the mystical bond between red and keith is founded on protection. red chose lance because he will keep her true paladin safe. 

BLUE

lance said it himself: “i’m glad it was you.” it’s as simple as that. despite his obnoxious flirting that he’s done in the past, he deeply admires allura. this dynamic in particular really appealed to people, but it was a new angle that had yet to be explored until this opportunity arose. 

blue must have know that lance being separated from her would be difficult, but she guessed (correctly) that allura taking his place would put him in a position in which he wants to be supportive and feels the least upset about it. despite all my complaining about blue shutting him out, i think this decision was made with lance’s self-doubt (which is exactly what blue responded to in allura) in mind. 

blue supports lance. she’s his best bud, his old girl, his blue, his beautiful. she makes him feel useful and happy. as the “mom” of the lions, she’s there for him. the foundation of their bond is support

TLDR: the mystical bond between blue and lance is founded on support. blue chose allura because blue knew that lance would be supportive of allura

as for why lance needed to lose blue at all, maybe she knew that red would continue to refuse allura (being temperamental about keith), and thus needed to force red’s hand. this one is still…kinda fuzzy as to the “why”, but the “who” absolutely matches up with the pattern. that fuzziness also lends itself to a potential explanation for blue being so…cold about the whole thing, both to lance and to allura. 


black’s true paladin is shiro, red’s true paladin is keith, and blue’s true paladin is lance. the lions chose new paladins for their respective true paladins, not for themselves as they did initially. this is merely emphasis as to who their true paladins are.  

it’s interesting that lance was the one to confirm the true reasoning behind all of these switches. black: “i respect its choice.” (respect shiro’s choice to trust keith.) red: “i won’t let him down.” (protect keith.) blue: “if i had to lose blue to someone, i’m glad it was you.” (support allura, thereby supporting lance.) 

this highlights why season 3 was so effective in strengthening the bonds that lance has with both allura and keith. the switches were based on the bonds that their true paladins had with the other paladins, so of course the switch would strengthen those bonds. lance and allura always had the potential to mutually respect and admire one another, and now they do. lance and keith always had the potential of being leader and right-hand man, and now they are. 

TLDR: lance’s bond with keith was strengthened because red chose him to protect keith, her true paladin. allura’s bond with lance was strengthened because blue chose her to support lance, her true paladin. black chose keith to trust shiro, her true paladin, and rejected new shiro because she didn’t trust him. 

if this is the explanation, then i’m honestly okay with the whole thing. 

(if you’re wondering where allura would end up…)

How to Write Successful Dialogue

@albino-troll-ninja asked:

Got any feedback/advice/links for someone who wants to make lengthy, relatively action-less dialogues between characters more than just “‘Loren ipsum,’ he said.” “'Ipsum lorem’, she replied.” for forty paragraphs?

No problem!  I love dialogue, so I’m happy to be of assistance in this department.  

Here are my personal rules of thumb:

1.  Allow the dialogue to show the character’s personality.

If you really think about your conversations, it can be telling exactly how much of someone’s personality can shine through when they speak.  

Allow your character’s persona, values, and disposition to spill over when they speak, and it will make for a significantly more interesting read for you and your reader. 

For example:  let’s take a look at a mundane exchange, and see how it can be spruced up by injecting it with a good dose of personality.

Exhibit A)

“How was your day, by the way?”  asked Oscar, pouring himself a drink.

“Not too bad,” replied Byron.  “Cloudy, but warm.  Not too many people.”

“That’s nice.”   

Exhibit B) 

“How was your day, by the way?” asked Oscar, pouring himself a drink. 

“Ugh.  Not too bad,” groaned Byron, draping himself on the couch.  “Warm, but dreary.  Gray clouds as far as the eye could see.  Not anyone worth mentioning out this time of year.”  A pause.  “Well, except me, of course.”

“Hmmph,” said Oscar, glancing over his shoulder.  “If it were me, I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Isn’t that better?  Already, the audience will feel as though they’ve gotten to know these characters. 

This works for longer dialogue, too:  allow the character’s personal beliefs, life philosophy, and generally disposition to dictate how they talk, and your readers will thank you.

Of course, this example is also good for giving the reader a general sense of what the characters’ relationship is like.  Which brings me to my next point:

2.  Allow the dialogue to show the character’s relationship. 

Everyone is a slightly different person depending on who they’re around.  Dynamic is an important thing to master, and when you nail it between two characters, sparks can fly.

Work out which character assumes more of the Straight Man role, and which is quicker to go for lowbrow humor.  Think of who’s the more analytical of the two and who’s the more impulse driven.  Who would be the “bad cop” if the situation called for it.  

Then, allow for this to show in your dialogue, and it will immediately become infinitely more entertaining.

Example:  

“Alright,” said Fogg, examining the map before him.  “Thus far, we’ve worked out how we’re going to get in through the ventilation system, and meet up in the office above the volt.  Then, we’re cleared to start drilling.”

Passepartout grinned.  “That’s what she said.” 

“Oh, for the love of God – REALLY, Jean.  Really!?  We are PLANNING a goddamn bank robbery!”

Some more questions about dynamic to ask yourself before writing dialogue: 

  • Who is more likely to talk and who is more likely to listen? 
  • Who would talk with their mouth full of food and who would politely wait to swallow?
  • Is their relationship fraternal/sororal?  If so, who would be the “little sibling?”
  • Is one of them a bit of a mother/father figure to the other? 
  • Who more frequently gets irritated with who?
  • Who has the more understated sense of humor?  Who’s a bit more juvenile?
  • Who’s better educated?  Does it show when they speak?
  • Who’s a bit more pretentious/full of themselves?
  • Who interrupts more?
  • Who swears more?

This can also be a valuable tool to cluing your reader in on who the characters are as people: 

3.  Think about what this dialogue can tell the reader.

It’s better to fill the reader in more gradually than to waist your valuable first chapter on needless exposition, and dialogue is a great way to do it.  

Think about what your characters are saying, and think about ways in which you can “sneak in” details about their past, their families, and where they came from into the discussion.  

For example, you could say:

Tuckerfield was a happy-go-lucky Southern guy with domineering parents,

and bore everyone to death.  

Or you could have him say: 

“Sheesh.  All this sneakin’ around in the woods late at night reminds me of being back in Kansas.  Good times, man, good times.”  There was a pause, before he added,  “‘Course, it wasn’t nearly so fun when I came home late for curfew and had to sleep on the front step, but y’know.  Life happens.”

Isn’t that much better than the omnipresent monotone?

Dialogue is also a great way to fill in potential plot holes early on, by having your characters talk them out and explain them. 

Moreover, dialogue can also be used to foreshadow, offer relevant hints about the climax, or provide information necessary for the resolution.  

So use it wisely!  

4.  Sprinkle in mini-actions throughout. 

Even in actionless dialogue, no one actually does nothing.  In my case, for example, I stim a lot.  I play with my hair.  I play with eating utensils.  It’s probably very annoying for those around me, but you get the point.

Less fidget-y folks might not do this as much, but they rarely sit totally still during conversations, either.  So occasionally add in these mini-actions, and it will make your characters feel a bit less like disembodied voices or floating heads.

For instance:  

Jo leaned back in her chair rolling her stiff neck from sitting still for so long.  “…So the way I see it,” she continued.  “Even if Pheris Beuller’s Day Off didn’t take place in Cameron’s imagination, Pheris was clearly a sociopath whose behavior shouldn’t be glamorized.”

“Ha.  As if.”  Avery paused to sip her root beer.  “Pheris,” she began, raising an index finger.  “Was clearly emblematic of counterculturist movements such as the Beat Generation, and his disregard for the capitalistic dogmas imposed upon younger generations is something to be admired.” 

“For Christ’s sake, will you two lighten up?”  scoffed Leo, counting out bills for the pizza.  “We were talking about which movie we wanted to watch tonight.  Jesus.”

5.  Remember how people actually speak.

In real life conversations, people don’t speak in paragraphs.  Alright, some people might, and this can actually be interesting as the personality aspect of a certain type of character.  

But generally speaking, people don’t speak in paragraphs, or as though they’re writing thought-out prose or letters.

In real conversations, people stutter.  They laugh at their own jokes, repeat words or phrases, and lose their train of thought.

Naturally, you don’t have to illustrate in your writing exactly how chaotic and mundane human speech can be, as writing would be pretty boring in general if it was strictly limited to miming reality.  But it’s good to keep in mind that your characters are talking, not writing in purple prose.

Exhibit A: 

“When I was a young boy, my mother and I had a most tumultuous relationship,” said Marcus.  “She saw me as a hallmark of her past failures, and took every opportunity to remind me as such.”     

Exhibit B:

“My mom, when I was kid, we had what you’d call a sort of tumultuous relationship,” said Marcus.  “Nothing I ever did was right for her.  She, uh – I think she saw me as sort of a hallmark of her past failures.  Took every opportunity to remind me of that.”    

Which of these is more organic, more easy to visualize, and more telling of character?  Unless the point of this dialogue is to illustrate that Marcus is a gentleman crook of some kind with pristine speaking mannerisms, I’m going to say the latter. 


Best of luck, I hope this helps, and happy writing!  <3

Negotiations

I walked into the room, avoiding direct eye contact with the alien waiting for me. Its huge eyes just looked like a jet black sclera set in a sack of vaguely damp, wrinkled gray leather. If eyes are a window into the soul, this creepy little guy would give satan a run for his money. They just put me on edge, somehow. I’d have to make eye contact anyway, but it could wait.

I strode up to the meeting table, pulled out the chair, and sat down. I shuffled around in my bag for a moment before pulling out a small piece of tech, which I set on the table in front of me.

“Before we begin, I want to be sure of a few things. This device you’ve provided us with, it is 100% effective at understanding and translating languages, correct?”

The alien across from me nodded. It’s a nice little allowance they’ve made for comfort, learning our body language, but its bulbous head threw the whole gesture off. It made me think of one of those old inflatable toys with a weight on the bottom, that would lean too far to the side before bouncing straight back up. Woobles or something. It didn’t really matter.

“Nearly. We occasionally find a race with one or two concepts that it has trouble with, but that’s easily smoothed over.”

I took a deep breath, and waited a moment to compose myself. This whole thing was going to be more trying than not interrupting old man Higgins up the street while he went on about whatever racist sentiment was in his head at the moment.

“One or two…okay. That’s odd.”

The alien blinked. Eyelids came in from not just the top and bottom, but also the sides. That’s just plain creepy. Reminds me of one of those really old movies they threw on the media blacklist pretty much as soon as first contact started. Something in black. Whatever it was, I remember seeing it as a kid, and that guy at the beginning had nothing on this alien’s eyes.

“Have you already found something it can’t translate?”

I nodded, then pulled out my communicator and scrolled through a few documents. I really needed to clean this thing out. Can’t believe I didn’t get around to it before coming to such an important meeting. Imagine the debacle that would result if I opened exactly the wrong thing. Never can know what that might be, honestly.

“Of a sort, yes. Mind humoring me for a few minutes?”

The alien steepled its hands together, and leaned forward. That’s just plain creepy. I wonder how they learned such context specific body language? Not that it really matters, I guess. Not my problem.

“Certainly. After all, it can take years to accept a race into the Federation.”

Nodding again, I pulled up a document on my communicator, then leaned back in my chair as I began. This was going to be more interesting than that time your classmate Jimmy found some old matches somewhere and almost burned the school down by mistake.

“Excellent. This shouldn’t take much time. I mentioned that we found some issues with your device. Allow me to demonstrate: Espionage.”

The little device on the table beeped, and a red light flashed.

“ERROR: NO ANALOGUE FOUND”

I sighed. That one had been an accident. We just had the thing sitting in a conference room while we discussed the implications of the visit when it came up. But, when something that simple for us to understand came up, we had to try for more.

“Reverse Engineering.”

Again, a beep and a flash of red.

“ERROR: NO ANALOGUE FOUND”

“Spycraft.”

And again with the beep. This was going to get irritating if I didn’t speed things up a bit. Too bad we hadn’t managed to find a mute option for that feature.

“ERROR: NO ANALOGUE FO-”

“Overwhelming Force”

“ERROR: NO-”

“Scorched Earth”

“ER-”

“Kamikaze”

“E-”

Blitzkrieg, Stealth, Mutually Assured Destruction, Acceptable Losses, Pyrrhic Victory, Guerilla Warfare, Encirclement, Entrenchment, Siege.”

The device gave off a series of distressed beeps, punctuated by rapid blinking of the little red light. I almost felt sorry for it. Almost.

“TOO MANY ERRORS DETECTED. REBOOTING. RUNNING SELF DIAGNOSTIC. NO DISCREPANCIES FOUND,”

I paused, and glanced across the table at the alien before looking back down at the translator. This was going to hit it harder than a washed up holovid actor with no auditions and less money hits rock bottom.

“Xenocide”

The chair across from me clattered to the ground as the alien practically fell out of its seat. I don’t blame the poor thing. Of all the aggressive, militaristic words we tried, that was one of the ones we least expected to translate. I mean, really. Who has a word for the intentional extermination of an entire sapient species when they don’t even understand fundamental hostile international mechanics like spying?

“Why do you have a word for…what was all that just now?”

I chuckled a bit while motioning for the alien to sit back down. His reaction had been pretty good, perfectly suitable for one of those hammed-up old dramas where the hero realizes they’ve been working with the villain all along.

“We were confused about that too. So we took a look at the information you sent as part of first contact with us. We noticed something interesting. Every single race in your Federation is carnivorous. Why is that?”

The alien seemed smaller somehow as it settled back into a seat. It looked kind of like a balloon slowly losing air, if that balloon was made of moldering gray leather with eyes that made your spinal column decide it wanted a holiday in Fiji.

“First contact has always been made after sapient races make it to multiple worlds. We’ve never found a sapient herbivorous race which failed to destroy themselves in resource wars and aggressive action. We’ve never found herbivores capable of surviving long enough to leave their own world.”

I leaned forward in the chair and smiled while finally making direct eye contact with the alien. I think the poor thing shivered when I did that. Not that I blame it. Imagine your reaction when you start to put the pieces together and realize that your friendly, upstanding next door neighbor might be the world’s most wanted criminal.

“And the races you have found, while commonly using threat displays, do not waste resources on wars they cannot easily win, correct?”

The alien nodded as it slouched a bit in its chair. It looked kind of like it was trying to hide. Who wouldn’t want to hide from the monsters in their closet?

“Wasted resources means decreased likelihood of survival.”

I shrugged. That was true enough, though rather coldly logical. Dispassionate logic like that has never been our strong suit. Then again, that’s why I’m in this situation in the first place, so it evens out.

“And yet herbivores constantly waste resources on aggression, on movement, on having more young than will possibly survive.”

The alien was staring at me. I’m not sure when the last time it blinked was. I wonder if those eyes need some kind of lubrication to keep from drying out. Probably, they looked a bit less creepy than they should’ve. Looked like they were losing their shine.

“And they die for it. That’s exactly why we’ve never encountered spacefaring herbivores. Their inherent aggression is their own demise.”

I held eye contact. I’d almost swear the alien was a weird statue right now. Don’t know who would commission a statue made of old greasy leather, but I’m sure there’s someone with too much money and too little sense who would give it a shot.

“Indeed. Now, back to the subject at hand. I’ll ask you before we continue: what can you offer humans for joining your Federation?”

The alien sputtered as it started moving again. I’d swear it looked offended. Maybe it doesn’t see where this is going. Not that it really matters, I guess. I mean, it probably matters about as much as posting a formal complaint to a new corporate policy, which is to say not at all.

“We’ve already sent the offer. You’ve seen that, I’m sure.”

I nodded, and began to tap out a staccato rhythm on the table with my fingers. I never could remember where I learned this stupid tune. I’ve known it as long as I can remember, and it just moves into my head on occasion and sticks around like that one couchsurfing friend who doesn’t understand the idea of wearing out their welcome.

“And I’m asking, what else do you have to offer?”

The alien just shook its head again, staring at the device. I wonder if it thought we might’ve tampered with it. As if we knew how. That little thing is way beyond our current abilities. We had some scientists pry it open and look inside, just to be sure.

“Nothing. I’m not sure why you’re-”

I raised my hand, cutting him off. Huh. Not sure why that worked. Did they learn that much of our body language? That’s still really creepy, if it’s the case. Or, maybe I just have it on edge. I dunno. I guess it doesn’t matter.

“May I have permission to connect my datapad with my ship’s computers?”

The alien glanced away from me for a moment. I assume it was checking in with superiors somehow. Maybe it was psychic, to an extent. Or maybe they just had an implant of some sort. We’ll find out eventually, I’m sure.

“Yes, if you like.”

I sighed. I guess that makes things easier for us. I don’t think anyone was going to like what I was about to do. This whole thing felt kind of like one of those holovids of an accident, where you know what’s coming and don’t want to keep going, but for some reason you just can’t seem to stop and pull yourself away.

“Computer, show video: Hiroshima”

A screen appeared in the air above my datapad. It started playing back an old, grainy video. Shaky, taken by hand in an aircraft in a firefight. Below, you can barely see a city being blotted out by a massive explosion. A cloud of smoke, fire and debris was rapidly climbing into the sky, billowing, growing, blooming into an eerie and easily recognized mushroom cloud.

“That’s…you’re using weapons of that scale on a population center? How recent was this?”

I shrugged, and closed the video. The screen on my datapad went back to the document I had up earlier. Gotta love how well they managed to predict this whole thing. I made a mental note to recommend a raise for whoever set up that document for me.

“Three centuries ago. Prior to our invention of spaceflight. Part of a much larger conflict. This is a relatively minor example of “overwhelming force”“

“ERROR: NO A-”

“Shut it. Computer, show infosheet: Battle of Stalingrad.”

A series of graphs and diagrams appeared above my datapad. They showed resources, time, maps, battle plans, and death tolls. Images were interspersed throughout, as were annotations on the tactical value of this, the emotional value of that. Prominent among them was a single apartment building, including notes on sniping from the roof and support via tunnels.

“That…what purpose would that…why w-”

Again, I raised my hand to cut him off, before closing the infosheet. Maybe it was both. Nah, couldn’t be. Only way it was both having this guy on edge and our body language is if it somehow had our body language built in. Unsettling thought, but not exactly likely.

“Because Stalingrad was an advantageous location and the people who died there were considered ‘Acceptable losses’“

“ERRO-”

“Computer, show gallery: General Sherman’s March to the Sea.”

A multitude of images appeared over the datapad. Rail lines and roads intentionally broken and destroyed. Farms and fields scoured clean and left to fallow. Buildings and towns razed to the ground. A broken people left to mourn and starve.

“So much waste…that can’t be intentional, can it?”

I glanced at the images, the wanton destruction that campaign caused, and the very orders that caused it. That kind of thing may be considered morally reprehensible now, even a war crime, but it wasn’t always. At the time, the strategy was extolled as one of the reasons the war ended the way it did.

“It was intentional.”

The alien stared at me, its reflective black eyes bigger than I’d ever seen them before. Creepy as all hell, that’s for sure. I’d rather not deal with these kinds of meetings in the future. Maybe after this I could negotiate for some kind of retirement.

“But…why?”

I tapped my datapad and closed the gallery, then leaned back and tossed my feet on the table. May as well relax, I already knew how this was going to end.

“Because it rendered the enemy unable to use resources Sherman couldn’t keep. Computer, assemble and show video grouping: RTS Games”

A large grid of videos came up, showing a huge range of scenes. Largely battle, the settings varied from open space to deep ocean, from early history to the far “future.” Even battles across space and time could be seen.

“The translator can’t have gotten that right. Those are military tactical simulations. Higher level than anything I’ve ever seen or heard of.”

I laughed as I closed out all of the videos and turned back to the alien. Creepy and unsettling as it might be, I’m pretty sure I was terrifying the poor thing. Not that I really felt sorry for it. Not at all.

“No. They aren’t. Those are games. Toys. For. Fun. And they’re a couple hundred years out of date. From what I’ve seen, nearly every human capable of coherent speech is capable of tactically overwhelming your Federation. And since we’re already here, in space, it’s too late for you to say no. So, I’ll ask again:

What do you have to offer us?”

A little thing I’ve been thinking about lately: Dorian’s comment that Felix was “a better man, clearly; not nearly as handsome.” It’s interesting - so many narratives have this idea of a character thinking they’re plain or ugly and that being part of general low self-esteem, because it’s taken as a value judgement. (It seems to come up a lot more in narratives written by women, depressingly, but that’s a whole other meta.) It’s an easy shorthand for “this character has self-worth issues.”

Dorian’s character writing swerves that. He knows he’s handsome. It was something valued in Tevinter, both as part of the casual sex he alludes to and as a status thing in general - part of that “perfect body, perfect mind” idea; it’s certainly easier to get your perfectly-distilled mageling kid married off if they’re nice to look at. What he’s worried about is that there’s nothing of worth on the inside. Look at his touched surprise and the way he doesn’t know how to respond when he’s called “a better man then he gives himself credit for” or “brave” - those are what get him, not the more obvious, easy compliments. He jokes to the Inquisitor about being “but an adornment upon your arm” - and that’s exactly what worries him.

Other characters call him arrogant, and eh, maybe, but only about particular things. The obvious things he can take pride in, that his peers back in the Imperium were bothered about - his appearance, his magical prowess - then sure. That’s how he’s used to playing the Game. But he’s constantly trying to work out what he is without those and without Tevinter ideas of status, and trying to live up to his own ideals and principles the way his father and Alexius ultimately couldn’t (”What’s in your heart” indeed). He’s trying, constantly, to approach people without ulterior motives and game-playing - look at how he says he’s had few friends (with the clear implication he wishes it were otherwise), look at his banters with other companions and the way he tries to level with them, and look at his general hatred of deception and politics and… well, everything about the Winter Palace. 

He’s got everything to prove - and he says that in a barely veiled way when he talks about wanting to show that “not everything from Tevinter is terrible.” He’s constantly trying to prove to himself and everybody else that he’s moral, that he has integrity, that he’s worthy of love (platonic or otherwise - look how pleased he is and how hard he tries to impress, to endear himself, when he’s making friends with the Inquisitor, never mind when he’s romanced, because he’s been rejected so many times that he’s startled and disbelieving when it doesn’t happen). That’s because on some level, he’s worried about these things.

He may strut and show off - after all, “Pavus” means “peacock” - but arrogant? Not exactly, if you know what to look for.

6

ya lit meme: [5/10] books or series ≡ percy jackson and the olympians

The throne rumbled. A wave of gale-force anger slammed into me.
WHO DARES-
The voice stopped abruptly, The anger retreated, which was a good thing, because just those two words had almost blasted my mind to shreds.
Percy. My fathers voice was still angry but more controlled. What-exactly-are you doing on my throne?
“I’m sorry, Father,” I said. “I needed to get your attention.”
This was a very dangerous thing to do. Even for you. If I hadn’t looked before I blasted, you would now be a puddle of seawater.

7

James Flint + that probably shouldn’t be attractive and yet.. 

[requested by daughtersofthanos]

anonymous asked:

Sterek, Glasses. Magic. Diner.

Filling Prompts Live Nightly!

——-

Derek fiddled with the fragile pair of glasses Stiles had unofficially borrowed from Deaton after Allison had borrowed them without permission from her father. They were, according to Allison, a magical artifact that was somehow supposed to help the wearer to see the truth. As this would more than likely reveal werewolves without any guesswork, it was understandable that none of them wanted such an artifact in the hands of hunters, even one that had agreed to a tentative truce.

So now they were here, hiding at a diner Derek normally wouldn’t be caught dead at, looking for answers. Stiles was flipping through pages of a book he had also questionably borrowed, reading about curses and enchantments, so that they could tell if the glasses were even safe to put on at all.

“Wow, it’s like really unhelpful,” Stiles said around his mouthful of curly fries. He laid the book down and spun it so Derek could read, even though he said it aloud anyway. “Enchantments aid the intended user, curses aid the original caster. For example, a truth enchantment would reveal the truth to the user, where as a truth curse would force the user to reveal the truth to the caster.”

“How do you tell the difference, if you didn’t cast the spell?” Derek asked, glancing down at the flowing script.

“Exactly,” Stiles said, like he won an argument, even though for once they were not arguing. “It doesn’t say. I guess someone’s just going to have to, like, put them on.”

“Are you volunteering?” Derek asked, raising a brow.

“To test unknown magic on myself?” Stiles returned, then scoffed. Derek could see him shifting to get ready to make a grab for the glasses, so he moved them enough Stiles had to reconsider. “Oh, come on.”

“And what if they’re cursed?” Derek said, reasonably.

“Then you ask me embarrassing questions until I take them off,” Stiles answered immediately. He had thought about this, clearly. “They can’t be that dangerous if Chris didn’t lock them up.”

Derek relented with a sigh, because he really did not think that the glasses were actually harmful. And they did need to know what exactly they did. Stiles snatched them up greedily, unfolding the delicate arms with a grace he seemed to reserve only for magic, and slipped them onto his face. Derek couldn’t help the stray though zipping through his mind, that Stiles really did look cute in glasses.

“Oh,” Stiles said, small and big, when he looked at Derek. He swallowed, looking like he could see ghosts currently, and Derek figured that meant they’d been right. It would reveal werewolves.

“You’ve seen me wolf out,” Derek told him, holding out a hand to take the glasses.

“You love me,” Stiles said, hushed, and Derek’s blood ran cold as he looked up to meet Stiles’ eyes.

Oh, no. No no no.

“What?” Derek said, mouth dry, mind tailspinning.

“You love me,” Stiles repeated, reverently, not looking away.

“Stiles, I…” Derek shook his head, not sure what he could even say. Of course he did. He had for a while, but he’d never intended to say a word. He’d never intended to ruin what they had going, like he had ruined so many other things.

Stiles snatched the glasses off his nose like they’d burned him, and if they hadn’t been sitting in a booth, he’d have knocked the chair and table over in his scramble to get to his feet. Derek pulled back a little when Stiles came at him with the glasses, but he froze when Stiles did, and then allowed Stiles to place the glasses on him, instead.

With a heavy whump, Stiles sat back down across from him, staring at him with wide, urgent eyes. Derek blinked once, twice, and then he suddenly understood how Stiles knew. He could see it there, plain as day, in the way Stiles looked at him. In the beat of his heart, in the catch of his breath, in the quirk of his smile. Nothing had really changed, Derek couldn’t see anything actually different about Stiles while looking through the glasses, but he knew.

Stiles loved him, too.

a-sisi-universe  asked:

i love your blog, could you do a drabble in which draco is really obviously flirting and harry is super oblivious, and the draco gives up and kisses him? thanks in advance!!

((I hope you don’t mind, I combined your prompt with one very vague anon prompt…also, I accidentally wrote 1.2k instead of a tiny drabble so I figured you may forgive me.))


“You don’t understand!  After the end of the year, I don’t really see us being around each other much.  I feel like I’m running out of time.  If I don’t do something soon, I’ll lose my chance with him forever!” Draco said.

“Poor thing, can’t imagine what it’s like to lose your chance with a crush, forever, only to be stuck in a toilet, forever…” Myrtle sobbed.

Draco was very used to navigating the ghost’s moodswings, “Of course you can. That’s why you are so important to me.  I didn’t go to any of my other friends, did I?  And I didn’t start talking about myself until after I fixed the lock on your favorite stall?”

Myrtle sniffled. “I guess.  But maybe he just doesn’t like boys.”

“I asked Weasely if he did,” Draco said, “and it wasn’t a pleasant conversation. I only asked if Harry liked boys and he started shouting at me. ‘He can like whoever he wants. You got a problem with that?’ Then he stood up like he was ready to fight me.”

Myrtle almost laughed, “Well, if he turns you down, just remind him that he can come see me any time he likes.”


Harry was his potions partner, his roommate since the eighth year rooming assignments were posted, even his friend.  But Draco wanted more.  He had always wanted more.  Draco had admitted that to himself almost at the beginning of the school year.  Harry never exactly turned him down, either.  That just made everything maddening.

He invited Harry to Hogsmeade the month before.  When Harry accepted, Draco was over the moon.  He came crashing back down to Earth when he grabbed Harry’s hand.  Harry had just stopped walking and looked at Draco.

“What?” Harry asked, pulling his hand out of Draco’s.

Draco panicked, “I, er, do you mind if we stop in to the quidditch supply shop? I need some polish.”

“Well, yeah.  I thought that was what we were here for,” Harry said.  

“I guess I thought we were multitasking,” Draco said.


A week later, in Potions, Harry was leaning over the cauldron to see if it smelled like burnt cinnamon yet as the assignment indicated.  His hair had gotten longer than Draco had ever seen it and he just couldn’t keep his hands to himself.  He reached over and ran his fingers through the thick, black tangle of hair, tucking it behind Harry’s ear.

“I wasn’t going to get my hair in the potion,” Harry said. “It’s not that long.”

Draco let out a deep sigh. “I know.”  He made himself look away from Harry only to make eye contact with Weasley who promptly made an I’m-watching-you gesture.


The following weekend, someone asked the house elves to bring cappuccinos and lattes up “as study aides, obviously” and Draco tried to care about the cappuccino in front of him, but he couldn’t stop watching Harry.  He almost choked on air as he watched Harry run his tongue along the rim of his mug, licking the chocolate from the edges of his cafe mocha.  

Draco couldn’t keep his eyes off Harry’s lips.  Draco reached up and brushed his thumb over Harry’s bottom lip.

Harry pulled away. “Do I have chocolate on me?” Harry asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Completely crestfallen, Draco just shook his head. “You’re good.”  Before he went back to his Transfiguration essay, he caught eye contact with Weasley who was trying very hard not to laugh.


Earlier this week, Draco walked into their room to catch Harry dancing quite ridiculously to some muggle love song.  Harry blushed beautifully, and Draco grabbed his hands and danced with him.  By the end of the song, they were a bit closer than just hand-in-hand and both laughing.

“Why can’t all of my friends be so forgiving when I’m caught doing something silly?” Harry asked. “Hermione danced with me, but Ron never would.“ 

“I wouldn’t say ‘never,’” Weasley said from the doorway.

“Glad I could keep your dignity intact.  I only came in, for, er,” Draco looked around, “this,” he said, grabbing an ink bottle off his desk.  Weasley stared him down as he left the room.


Tonight, they sat in the common room celebrating the end of the first round of exams.  Draco couldn’t keep his eyes off Harry.  He laughed at Harry’s jokes, gave him a friendly shove when those jokes were at Draco’s expense.  Draco melted every time Harry’s leg bumped his own.  He intentionally moved a little closer when he thought it would make Harry’s shoulder brush his own. Then a conversation started taking over the group as a whole.

“I think a first kiss should always be discussed,” Pansy said. “It’s too presumptuous to assume an eye flutter and a smile would mean it’s okay to kiss.”

“It’s just because you’re a massive flirt,” Blaise said.

“Pots and kettles,” Hermione said. “I don’t know, I think it’s important to get consent, but implied consent between two people, depending on the people and the situation, could be okay.”

“I guess that tells you where I stand,” Weasley added. “How ‘bout you Harry? Negotiate kissing or surprise kissing?“ 

Harry shifted in his seat, "I don’t know.  It’s kind of hard to imagine anyone really wanting to kiss me.  Especially now, I mean, I don’t even know any other guys who prefer guys.”

Weasley stared at Draco before looking back at Harry, “Question still stands.  If one of us,” he said, waving a hand at the men in the group, “decided we fancied you.  Would you insist we asked permission?”

Draco’s head was going fuzzy.  Maybe he needed to remind himself to breathe.

“You trying to admit something there, Ron?” Harry laughed.

“Answer the question, dude,” Weasley said.  More than a couple people were looking at him like he’d sprouted a second face.

Harry threw his hands up in defeat, “What is the deal? Why are you getting so worked up over this? No. No. No I’m not opposed to surprise kisses! No, kiss consent isn’t something I insist on. No.  Okay. No-”

Before he realized he was moving, Draco had Harry’s face in his hands and his lips on Harry’s.  

“Thank fuck!” Weasley shouted.

Draco kissed Harry roughly, months of oblivious rejections be damned. When he felt Harry’s hands on him, he worried for the briefest moment that Harry would push him away.  It didn’t happen.  Harry’s arms circled his waist, pulling him closer as he kissed Draco back.  And, oh sweet Merlin, he moaned against Draco’s lips.  

Draco pulled away enough to ask, “How the bloody hell did you not know I like men?!”

Harry laughed, “Too much to hope for, I guess.”

Weasley, one of the few who hadn’t left while they were practically devouring each other, said, “He’s only been throwing himself at you for years, mate. And, Malfoy, I’d say it’s about bloody time you made a move but in your defense, you’ve been putting moves on him all year.”

Harry started to say something, but Draco cut him off with a kiss.

“Want to go discuss this, privately?” Draco asked.

Harry nodded. “Please.”

3

Izuku: I had a vision… There were eight or nine people, I’m not sure exactly how many… But when it felt like my mind was filled with fog from the brainwashing, the vision appeared as if to drive away the fog. There was someone with eyes like you too, All Might. Was it the people who had inherited One For All who did it?
All Might: Scary… What the heck? No, I also saw it before in my younger days. It’s a clear sign that you’ve got a better grasp on One For All.

Yo, any ARG fans out there: Have you heard of Daisy Brown?

It’s this weird twitter account that popped up recently of a girl named Daisy Brown. She tweets weird things about having a monster named Alan in her house. Apparently she just found a laptop in her attic and has never heard of the internet before.

She tweets several times a day about weird random things that make it seem like she’s living a very strange life. 

She also talks about her Dad sometimes, I don’t know if her Dad is dead or missing or what, but he apparently “created” Alan.

I originally thought that this was a challenged person that people were messing with online. I even tweeted at her and she responded!

I had stopped paying attention to Daisy’s twitter for a while but when I looked back at it today I saw THIS.

IS THAT ALAN??

Anyway I just wanted to spread the word because not many people know about this weird situation. I’m not sure exactly where it’s gonna go but I am definitely curious and excited.