number stacks

I used to be the nice guy type when I was young and while I wasn’t the fedora/neckbeard type, I did carry a lot of their ideals. Now that I know how twisted that mindset is I’d like to say something.

Every single one of these assholes is a god damn liar. “I just want a loving, faithful waifu (lol) that I will treat like a princess.” No. The truth is that that nice guy is going to try to get you too blow him and then ignore you the same as the dick head jock will. They yell “friend zone” as often as possible, not because their heart is breaking but because they now have to confront the fact that they simply aren’t attractive enough to be the player they wish they were.

This victim complex doesn’t come from unrequited love, it is a selfish need to stack numbers that will secure their place on top of the masculinity hierarchy. When they fail to get enough trophies they realize something is wrong and it can’t be their fault so all women must be frigid bitches.

Don’t feel bad for them. They aren’t sincere, misunderstood, and sensitive, they’re just working an angle.

What is going to happen in the 2B trailer

Alec opening a drawer - Magnus what is this

*camera pans to Magnus looking shocked*


In reality - Magnus bought Alec a pair of socks

Holding On To You

Can you write an imagine where Gerard is like punk and y/n ’s neighbor and he likes her and always makes comments towards her and stuff and one time he finds her all sad and stuff and comforts her so basically fluff

So I know I’ve kept it kind of fluffy on here, but I do have a few smut requests/ ideas so hold tight! (also, would it be beneficial for me to make some kind of FAQ about what requests I accept/don’t or should I just tackle them as they come in?) This one seems to have a lot more backstory/ introspection and less dialogue, but I really like how this turned out! (it might be a bit cheesy, but it is fluff) I kind of took a different route with this one so I hope you like it! x

Side note to my side note. I just wanted to thank you all for following and sending in these awesome requests! I hope you enjoy reading these as much as I enjoy writing them ! xx

Warnings: Just a wee bit of angst is all. :)

y/c= Your city

Since you were 16, you had lived alone in a rundown apartment in y/c. Not because you wanted to. Life alone was hard, and you’d trade anything to have things back to the way they were before. But because on one seemingly normal day, you lost both of your parents in a car accident. With no close relatives you had been forced to figure things out for yourself since then.

Keep reading

The Seven would totally play games of “How many things can we stack on Leo’s head before he notices” when Leo gets absorbed in his work or falls asleep in the bunker

Making Brideo'gas (Corn Dollies)

External image
Square-cut dried corn husks
Yarn, twine, or raffia
Paper towel

Step 1:
Start by soaking the husks in water for 10 minutes, and then blot excess water with a paper towel.

Step 2:

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Lay 4 or 6 husks (always an even number) in a stack.

Step 3:

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Using thin twine, tie husks together, about 1 inch from top.

Step 4:

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Separate husks into equal portions (2 and 2, or 3 and 3), and fold halves down, covering twine.

Step 5:

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Using thin twine, tie husks about 1 inch down, creating head.

Step 6:

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Roll a single husk and tie at ends to make arms.

Step 7:

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Position arms below knot at neck, between equal portions of husks.

Step 8:

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Tie waist. For a dress, trim husks to an even length.

Step 9:

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For pants, separate legs into equal portions. Tie at knees and ankles. Trim evenly.

Changed it from “female” and “male” to dress and pants because I wasn’t thinking I guess. That’s just what the original tutorial said.

notevenjokingrightnow  asked:

Dear Modern Glasgow about a time Claire finds an old shoe box full of love letters from Jamie's old girlfriend, Annalise.... and doesn't take it so well.... Thank you. I await your brilliance.

Modern Glasgow AU

Cold, dry, stale air. And mothballs.

Claire scrunched her nose and squinted into the darkness beyond the battered door.

“This is it, eh?”

Jenny nodded. “Aye - all of Jamie’s boxes should be labeled. Some have been in there since he was a lad, and Ian and I packed up some of his loose things when he…went to America.”

When he went to America after getting beaten up by that sadistic police captain and Brian Fraser had died. But no need to bring that up here, today - not when Claire could hear Jamie pretending to be a Highland Coo downstairs and his Murray niece and nephew squealing with delight at their silly uncle.

Claire coughed.

“Well then - I’ll see what I can find. Now that we’ve got our own flat, we’ve certainly got more room for Jamie’s things.”

Jenny pulled a long chain from the ceiling, and light flooded from a bare bulb to illuminate stacks and stacks of boxes, the odd chair covered in protective plastic, and a number of framed pictures stacked up against the far wall.

“Weel there are things that have been up there since our grandparents lived in the house - anything that strikes yer fancy, it’s yours.”

Impulsively Claire gave her sister-in-law a quick hug - and Jenny returned it.

“Thank you, Jenny. I’ll keep myself busy - I know you must have so much more to do to get the house ready.”

“I do - and trust me Claire, ye’re doing me a favor. I canna ever find the time to go through all this rubbish!”

And with that, Jenny turned on her heel to help Mrs. Crook with the final preparations for the biggest Christmas Eve dinner that Lallybroch had seen in a long while.

Claire gingerly stepped through the doorway and began tracing her fingers down the long columns of boxes. Many were labeled with marker in tall, neat letters - not Jamie’s handwriting, or Jenny’s. Her heart clenched at the realization that it must have been Brian’s handwriting.


LAND SURVEYS, 1750 - 1900




One by one she read the labels, opened the boxes at the top of each stack, carefully sifting through Jamie’s history - the Fraser history - *her* history now.

What little she knew of history - of being a historian - she’d learned from Frank. But his interests lay in what he always called the “big picture” - trying to understand the causes and effects of the big historical trends. What kings and queens and prime ministers and generals thought about the events of the day.

Not what ordinary, hard-working people thought about those events. Never the effect of laws and regime changes and wars and economic crises on the majority of people - such as the Frasers who had owned and lovingly farmed this land for more than two hundred years.

Lallybroch wasn’t just a quaint holdover from a different time - it was a working farm. Would *always* be a working farm, if Jenny, Ian, and Jamie had their way. And events in Westminster and Brussels and New York and so many other places would continue to affect the Frasers here, just as they always had. And life would continue to move on.

A crash downstairs - probably Wee Jamie turning over a chair in the kitchen again - startled Claire back to the present. It was always overwhelming to visit Lallybroch, to be surrounded by so many Frasers and their history. But their history wasn’t something dead on a page - it was living, breathing. Part of day-to-day life. For by living as they did, the Frasers honored all of their ancestors who had come before them - who had poured their blood and sweat into the stones of the house - and kept alive that which many others had lost.

It was why Jenny and Ian were teaching Wee Jamie and his newborn sister Maggie to speak Gaelic as well as English. It was why they insisted on traditional foods for holidays, and High Mass on Sundays, and had been such passionate Yes voters a few years back.

Claire turned to examine another stack, thinking. This was how she wanted her children to be raised - with a strong sense of self, and a strong appreciation for tradition.


Now that box should be interesting.

Claire hoisted the box from the top of the stack and brought it to the other end of the room, where she’d cleared off a stool. Carefully she removed the lid and began sifting through the tidy stack of folders.


That folder contained a snapshot of an absolutely adorable Jamie, aged perhaps sixteen, hair all messy, grinning in front of a large posterboard at a science fair.

A handsome lad, to be sure. She knew he’d had girlfriends, of course - he’d told her as much, and been honest as to his previous romantic experiences (or his “BC” - “Before Claire” years, as he referred to them). Brian - and Ellen, though she’d died when Jamie was eight - had instilled in him a deep respect for women, and a sense of responsibility. For to be intimate with a woman was to risk disease and pregnancy - which (combined with his total inability to feel attracted to *any* woman as he grieved for several years after Brian’s death) had significantly contributed to him remaining a virgin until their marriage.

And then a small bundle of letters caught her eye.

Not true letters - the envelopes bore Jamie’s name, but no addresses. They must have been delivered by hand.

And written in what was clearly a woman’s handwriting.

Carefully, Claire unwound the string holding together the bundle, opened the top envelope, and began to read.


“Have ye seen Claire?”

Ian looked up from his seat behind Lallybroch’s ancient desk. Jamie stood in the doorway, his namesake hoisted high on his shoulders, wee eyes drooping.

“Jenny sent her to the attic - said she wanted to find some things to furnish yer new flat with. Here, bring the lad to me.”

Jamie strode across the room and gently shifted Wee Jamie into his arms, handing him to his father across the desk. The little boy settled against his Da’s shoulder and suddenly went boneless.

“There’s a good lad - ye’re all tired out, playing wi’ yer daft uncle all day.”

Jamie theatrically rolled his eyes. “I’ll leave ye two to it, then. He can help ye wi’ the ledgers if ye dinna want me to.”

And turned on his heel to find Claire, Ian’s soft laughter trailing behind him.

Up three flights of stairs - ah, the door was open at the end of the hall. He hadn’t been in the attic in years - had no need to, truly - and felt a sudden pangof regret that Claire felt she needed to retreat from the family for a bit. This was only her second visit to Lallybroch, and she still felt so overwhelmed by the house and the history, let alone his family -

She was sitting on a stool at the back of the room, a box open around her, squinting at a wee piece of paper.


She flinched and looked up at him - eyes cold.

His heart stopped.

“Claire? Are ye - are ye all right?”

He watched her take a deep breath. “Tell me - who is Annalise de Marillac?”

Now *that* was a name he hadn’t heard in a long time -

“…and why did you keep all of her love letters?”

Heat flushed through him - and he flailed a bit, grabbing on to the doorframe to stay upright.

“Mon bête rouge, I could not sleep again last night as thoughts of you filled my mind. Even eight hours after the time we spent holding each other and kissing in the trees, my heart was racing so fast I thought my chest would burst.”

Her voice was thick - unemotional. She sounded like she was holding back tears.

“You are full of more passion than any other man I have ever known. You kiss me with more dedication than I ever knew possible. Your hands on my waist scorch me through my clothes. Your beautiful blue eyes smiling at me warms me to my very center.”

“Claire - ”

“I so love when you whisper in my ear, tell me how beautiful I am, tell me how you love to kiss my neck and hold my hands so tight you are always afraid you will break my fingers. How you like to show me off to the other boys at school. How you love my taste and always want it on your lips.”

Jamie had watched Claire unknowingly curl her back, shrinking into herself.

No - no - no. This wouldn’t do.

Quickly he weaved through the piles of boxes and other bric-a-brac and knelt before her.

“Claire - look at me. I will tell you *everything* about this. Just look at me.”

She did - eyes so narrow and brimming with tears.

“Why did you never tell me of her? It sounds very - deep.”

“I never told you because I didna think it mattered. And because it lasted for all of four weeks.”

“You fell in love with me in a second. And married me after a month.”

“Aye - I did. But will ye let me explain to ye how what I felt for her is absolutely nothing compared to what I feel for you, Claire? For you, my wife?”

She swallowed, but didn’t move to touch him.

“She was a French exchange student at the school in Broch Mordha.” He sat down on the dusty floor, legs crossed, keeping one hand on her ankle, rubbing it just above her boot. Keeping them connected.

“I was sixteen. She was seventeen - French - experienced. And at the time I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the entire world.”

“Mon bête rouge?”

Jamie looked up at her, lips pressed tightly together. “She loved my hair - said it was exotic to her. I was already a head above all the other lads at school, and she was such a tiny wee thing - even shorter than you. She barely came up to my elbow. And she - she brought out something in me I didna ken I had.”

Claire set down the letter and turned to face Jamie, hands resting on the dusty knees of her jeans. “And what was that?”

She watched him lick his lips - remembering? “She - kissing her was the first time I felt my entire body tremble. My breath would go short, and I would go - go a bit mad, I suppose. And she liked being kissed on her neck and ear - no’ like the other girls I’d kissed, who only wanted it on the lips.”

Claire nodded, flexing her fingers. “How far did you go with her?”

He glided his left hand up her shin to twine his fingers with her right hand, grounding her. “I have never lied to ye, Claire. You are the *only* women I’ve made love to - the *only* woman who knows me in the way that a wife knows a husband. And my heart and soul belong to you, *mo nighean donn*. Surely ye must know that.”

She arched an eyebrow, waiting.

He swallowed. “If ye must know - she showed me her bubbies, and I just about came in my pants. I was a lad of sixteen for God’s sake. And I touched them. But that’s it.”

His thumb traced the back of her knuckles.

“And she wrote you letters.”

He sighed. “Aye - she did. But I didna ask her to - she’d just leave them in my locker at school, and the things she’d write…I couldna risk throwing them away at home, for fear my Da would find them, so I bundled them up and hid them in a box.”

“So what happened?”

Now he laughed. “In typical Jamie Fraser fashion, I noticed another boy - two years ahead of me at school - who was eyeing Annalise at school. I challenged him to a fight - and knocked him out.”

She barely cracked a smile. “You did?”

“Aye - I did. And Annalise was so upset wi’ me for doing that to the other lad that she dumped me and took up wi’ him, just like that! The puir bastard even follwed her back to France at the end of the term.”

Now he got onto his knees before her - looking up at her. Pleading.

“I never told ye because she didna mean anything to me. She showed me what passion is - but I ken weel I didna love her. No’ then, and certainly no’ now. It was - weel, to be honest it was lust between us. And I felt proud for getting her to go out wi’ me - but then after she took up wi’ the other lad, I felt foolish for the rest of the school year.”

Claire gently rested a hand on one of his shoulders. From this angle, he was eye level with her chest - and as much as he wanted to enjoy the view above the scoop neck of her loose sweater, his eyes remained fixed on hers.

“So you didn’t keep the letters because you wanted to remember her?”

“No, Claire - I kept the letters because I forgot to throw them away. And I’ll gladly burn them all in the fire downstairs, right now, if ye like.”

She nodded, and pulled her other hand away from his so that it could rest on his other shoulder. Slowly she drew their heads together, and sighed as his nose bumped hers.

“You’ve never once questioned me about my life with Frank, or asked about the more - intimate - details of our life together. And I feel terrible that I’m doing so now, with this Annalise girl.”

“I will tell you *everything* you ever want to know about me, Claire.” He pulled back a bit to kiss the tip of her nose. “Every action, every thought. Everything.”

“I know - and I cherish that. I cherish *you*.” She sighed. “I don’t know why I feel so upset - ”

“Is it because you fear that she had me in a way that you don’t? Or in a way that you do, and ye dinna like sharing that?”

Her brow furrowed. “How - how did you -”

“It’s how I feel about your years wi’ the Englishman, Claire. Every time I learn something new about you - or when I kiss ye on that mole, my favorite mole - I think to myself, did he know about this? How many times did he see her like this?”

She slipped off the stool and onto his lap, winding her legs around his waist. He staggered back a bit, but held on to her tight.

“Nonsense. He never *knew* me, Jamie. He never made me a fraction of as happy I feel when I’m with you.”

She kissed him then, but he pulled back.

“So it’s the same for me, Claire - that wee French girl may have had my mouth and mind for a bit, but that’s it. And I thought I wanted her - or my body wanted her - but now that I have you, I understand that I didna truly understand what *want* was. And certainly didna understand what love was, or what true *commitment* was - but now I do. In you.”

They kissed, and kissed, and kissed.

“I love you,” she murmured. “Can you please close the door? I need you, now.”

Heart racing, he grinned into their kiss. “Next door,” he breathed. “There’s a lovely bedroom wi’ a soft bed - I canna wait to see how bonny ye look on the blue quilt, when ye’re naked.”

She shot up, and gripped his hand, and they raced out of the attic in a flurry of papers and dust.

And when she woke, some time later - alone and naked under the lovely blue quilt Jamie had said his grandmother MacKenzie had made - there was a small, half-folded sheet of paper on Jamie’s pillow.

Curious, she opened it.

Gaelic - in Jamie’s hand. And then -

*You are blood of my blood, and bone of my bone. I give you my body, that we two may be one. I give you my spirit, till our life shall be done.*

I am yours, eternally.


Snowbaz!LibraryAU  This Is War Chapter 1: On Hold

A/N Well… I suppose I was inspired to do this NOW instead of this weekend. So here is the first chapter of the Snowbaz library-book war I promised to write. Normal!AU. Sorry it’s kind of short, but they will get longer.

@princess-anna-bear @tumbling-down-life @fal-lena-ngel @snowbazrosebuds @fridge246 @sourcherrysnowflake @book-sama

“Mori Harrison,” the Zorken chief gurgled laughingly, “the intrepid space traveller.”

“Yeah,” she scowled, “that’s me. What do you want with Captain Snowden? Why did you take him hostage?”

The blob on the tall, translucent throne shifted to one side. “Information. We won’t risk an invasion of our planet. We want to know if the rumors are true.”

“About what?”

“About YOU, Colonel.” 

–Rhys DeCarte, Mori Harrison and the Starfleet Traitor, Book I of The Space Chronicles


It all began on a cool Autumn day at the beginning of the new school year.

Simon stepped through the library’s revolving doors and looked at his watch. It was 3:45, and he’d promised his Dad he’d be home by 4:30. That left him more than enough time to renew his book and sit for a while in the library’s coffee shop, letting his heart and soul melt into the story. In his hand, he clutched a copy of Rhys DeCarte’s Mori Harrison and the Red Star, the second book of the Space Chronicles series.

His best friend Penny had recommended it, and he had picked it up from the library some time ago. Unfortunately, he couldn’t keep it any longer unless he renewed it today. (The last chapter he’d had time to read had ended with a torturous cliffhanger– Mori was dangling over the edge of a dark cavern on a strange planet, being pursued by a mysterious creature and unable to get her comm to function, when the chapter ended.) The need to know what happened next was eating Simon alive. Thankfully, renewing it should be easy.

“‘’Scuse me, ma’am,” he mumbled over the counter to a sharp-nosed librarian with pointy glasses like Penny’s. Her greying hair was pulled up in a tight bun.

“Speak up, young man,” she replied curtly.

“I’d like to renew this,” he slid The Red Star across the desk toward her.

“Hm,” the librarian flipped the book over and examined it before scanning it, “DeCarte, eh? Is it any good?”

“It’s amazing.”

“Hm..” She bit her lip and clicked something else, “We’ve only got one copy, but I suspect it’s still… oh dear.”

“It appears  someone has put it on hold just thirty seconds ago. I’m so sorry. If you give me your library card number, I will contact you when it is returned.” She looked up at him with something like sympathy in her face.

On HOLD? Simon’s cheeks burned and he felt angry tears spring to his eyes as the librarian took the book away and placed it one one of several numbered stacks.

“W-w-when will I be able to check it out again?” He stammered.

“Whenever what’s-his-name who is holding it now is finished with it, I suspect.”

Simon narrowed his eyes. He needed a name. A name upon which to vent all his frustration and pin all the blame. “What’s his name, ma’am. Please.”

“It’s Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch,” she replied. “He’s a nice young man. Always reading something new.”

What a stupid, posh name. Well arguably “Simon Snow,” is pretty goofy too but seriously? Tyrannus? Simon was tempted to laugh aloud.

“He’s tall, but about your age, I suspect,” she added, as she swiped Simon’s card. “Though he does have a nasty habit of accumulating library fines.”

“So it’s likely that he’ll keep it for longer than he’s supposed to,” Simon gritted his teeth.

“I suppose.” Apparently the librarian considered the conversation closed. After handing him back his library card, she turned back to her computer screen and did not favor him with any further word or look.

As Simon walked through the revolving doors and back out into the crisp fall air, one thought echoed through his mind.

I. Hate. Tyrannus. Basilton. Fucking. Grimm-Pitch.

Numbers in Elvhen

about to head to bed. But before I do: I bring you numbers… IN ELVISH.

Elvish, as far as I can see, has had no numbers created for it. And well… without numbers there is no math, without math there is no major construction or architecture and… well…

Basically, without numbers, there is no Arlathan. So they’re kind of important. So far, there are only two numbers created within Elvish that we have seen, as far as I know: Sa (one) and Tan (three). Going off of these two sounds, I created some numbers that felt natural with each other, and fit with the phonetics of what we have seen so far with Elvish (staying away from hard consonants, agglutinative and fushional langauge, etc). 

1 through 10

 Elvish    |  Pronunciation

1.   Sa    |  s

2.   Ta    |  tah
3.   Tan  |  tahn
4.   Ny    |  nay
5.   Va    |  vah
6.   No    |  no
7.   Noa  |  NO-ah
8.   Han  |  hahn
9.   Uan  |  OOO-ahn
10. Asan |  ah-SAHN

11 through 20

           Elvish    |  Pronunciation

11.   Asan'sa    |  ah-SAHN-ah
12.   Asan'ta     |  ah-SAHN-tah
13.   Asan'tan   |  ah-SAHN-tahn
14.   Asan'ny    |  ah-SAHN-neye
15.   Asan'va    |  ah-SAHN-vah
16.   Asan'no    |  ah-SAHN-no
17.   Asan'noa  |  ah-SAHN-no-ah
18.   Asan'han  |  ah-SAHN-hahn
19.   Asan'uan  |  ah-SAHN-ooo-ahn
20.   Alan          |  ah-LAHN

30 through 90

        Elvish    |  Pronunciation

30.   Atan      |  ah-TAHN
40.   Anan     |  ah-NAHN
50.   Avan     |  ah-VAHN
60.   Aloan    |  ah-LOW-ahn
70.   Anoan   |  ah-NO-ahn
80.   Ahan     |  ah-HAHN
90.   Anuan   |  ah-NEW-ahn

100 through 1,000

          Elvish    |  Pronunciation

100.   Salan    |  SAH-lahn
200.   Talan    |  TAH-lahn
300.   Tanlan  |  TAHN-lahn
400.   Nylan    |  NEYE-lahn
500.   Valan    |  VAH-lahn
600.   Nolan    |  NO-lahn
700.   Noalan  |  NO-ah-lahn
800.   Halan    |  HAH-lahn
900.   Ualan    |  OOO-ah-lahn
1000. Alan'en  |  ah-LAHN-en


    Elvish    |  Pronunciation

   Alan'el    |  ah-lahn-el


         Elvish    |  Pronunciation

   Alan'en'el    |  ah-LAHN-en-el

These numbers are stacked upon each other, like other words within elvish. For example, 9,341 (nine-thousand-three-hundred-and-forty-one) would be: Ualan'tanlan'anan'sa.

Rexsoka Week 
    Day 3 :: Chasing Shadows

Memorial Wall stood inside the GAR compound on Coruscant, emblazoned with the number of every trooper claimed by the war. The base’s harsh floodlights easily illuminated it, but the permanent soldier presence, the red-painted Coruscant Guard, walked right by on their rounds without a glance at the wall or the blue trooper standing in front of it.

The numbers, stacked in thin columns and grouped by companies, battalions and brigades, dwarfed the only clone to pay them attention. 

Captain Rex slid a glove over the numbers of the 501st, brothers who had served under his command. He recognized so few names. So many casualties in only two years and—if anything—the war just seemed to be intensifying.

The 501st list was about to grow again; Rex had come in person to deliver the casualty numbers from their most recent mission, reclaiming Umbara from the Separatists. He usually transmitted the tally to GAR headquarters electronically, but the deathly silence of the barracks was not what he wanted to face at the moment.

Rex leaned a hand against the wall and bowed his head. 

The entire hyperspace journey back from Umbara, Ahsoka had found her way into his office at regular intervals, asking if he wanted to talk, and pouting with shining eyes each and every time he turned her down. It was too soon to relive those battles; his choices; the outcome. 

It was also too soon to return to the barracks. 

Given the opportunity, the rest of the 501st collectively decided to go out into the blinding oblivion of Coruscant’s constant lights, crowds, and noise. None of the troopers had invited him along, and even if they had he would’ve declined. 

Rex’s hand slipped. He wandered back toward his transport much slower than the Guards moving around him. 

He was the only passenger on the LAAT/i as it lifted off the ground, its destination the barracks next to the ship yards. The open doors displayed a glittering Coruscant, beckoning and frivolous, and everything soldiers like Hardcase and Dogma would never again experience, even though it was planets like this they’d fought for. 

The Jedi Temple, almost a dark spot on the grid with its comparatively meager illumination, loomed in the distance, lights and life and modernity speeding by all around it. 

Rex’s mouth had long been dry—the minimal conversation required to hand over Umbara’s death toll to the administration was brutal—but he cleared his throat as he accessed his list of comlink numbers on his HUD screen and started to scroll through. So many numbers of his troops, automatically entered upon receiving new clones to the unit, were grayed out, another automatic update when they died. 

Finally, he reached the number he needed. The trilling beeps he counted as he waited for the call to connect grew to a worrisome amount… after all it wasn’t that late. For Coruscant, anyway.

The beeps gave way to a familiar mumble.

Even a second attempt at clearing his throat couldn’t stop him from sounding hoarse. “Hey, sir… do you still want to talk?” 

The longest silence followed. 

“Yeah, Rex. I do.” 

A day late and a dollar short. (╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻

AYEM Shorts #17


Sans had never seen blood before, but somehow he had a feeling what it was. The day they had waited outside the King’s throne room for hours and hours after school made him suspicious, but his creator had been hesitant to talk about it at any length around Papyrus, which was understandable. During the evening when Papyrus wasn’t looking he had told Sans only enough to satisfy his curiosity; that a human had made their way to the King and the King had killed them.

Gaster had thrown off his blood-stained coat and wiped his hands as well as he could when carrying Papyrus home, but then once they got back he spent nearly an hour scrubbing at the joints and cracks between his phalanges and his words were even more sparse than usual. Sans knew he was keeping up as much of a strong facade as he could for Papyrus’ sake.

As it grew late the two boys were sent to bed and their home became quiet. It wasn’t unusual for Gaster to stay awake all throughout the night working or reading, he wasn’t a very good sleeper and didn’t seem to need all that much to power him throughout the next day.

Keep reading

the office of naval intelligence is excited to announce that, in light of yesterday’s revelation that cortana has hired the grunts to serve as front line bullet sponges, we are officially hiring the drones to serve as a new legion of well paid but underperforming pilots. all pelicans will now each be piloted by a number of drones, stacked on top of each other, wearing trench coats. 

It’s Okay if it Doesn’t Rhyme, Right? (2/?)

Summary: AU based off the movie “Music and Lyrics”; Phil Lester’s a “has-been” - a jaded popstar slowly fading into obscurity. But when UK’s new princess of pop, Zoella, asks him to write her next single, Phil gets a chance at reinvention. There’s just one problem - he’s never been good at writing lyrics, just the music behind it. Enter Dan Howell, the strange young man who waters his plants and has a way with words.

Genre: AU/Fluff/Mild Angst (later chapters)

Rating: PG-13, could go higher

Word Count: 2797

A/N: soz for the severe lack of updates lately. things haven’t been going so great in my life, but everything’s fine, no worries! special thanks, of course, to constipatedhowell for putting up with my trash and beta-ing this for me ~

Chapter Description/Excerpt:

Zoella stands up, eyes never leaving Phil’s as she walked towards them. Phil tenses under her gaze, heart beating faster and faster.

For a girl no taller than his shoulder, Zoella sure is intimidating.

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Right, so, it took a little longer than an hour. Sorry, Anon.

Here’s a rough-ish, quickly typed up version of that meeting between Darcy and Natasha. I apologize for typos and whatnot. 


The fourth, and most intriguingly mysterious, member of Tony’s new superhero boy band, turned up at the Tower about a week and a half after the battle.

It was early, too early, the morning barely more than a rosy blush across the sky. Darcy was in the kitchen, her chin propped on one hand, while she clutched her mug of coffee like a lifeline. Next to her sat Jane, reading off numbers from a massive stack of papers, and quizzing Darcy on their research. Across the table, Tony was working on his tablet while simultaneously irritating Jane by interjecting his thoughts, theories, and suggestions into her one-sided conversation with Darcy.

Keep reading

Lessons from Human Anatomy

Right before your conception, just right after your last moments as a sperm, you were able to outswim 250 million others to the finish line, which coincidentally was also your last moments as an egg. To say that the numbers were stacked against you is a severe understatement. There were 250 million different outcomes; 250,000,000 other possible fetuses. You had 0.0000000004% chances of being conceived. You were born because against the odds, you’ve persevered. You are here because you are a fighter.

Within our bodies, there is over 65,000 miles of veins, arteries and capillaries combined. 65,000 miles. The circumference of planet earth is barely 25,000. If we lay down your blood vessels end to end in a straight line, they could circle the world more than twice. Imagine endlessly pumping eight pints of blood delivering them around the word two times over, 24 hours a day and 7 days a week. Your heart is capable of great things but your heart is also overworked. It needs some tender, loving care. But don’t expect others to take care of your heart. Their hearts are just as overworked.

Unless your skin is dry or flakes off easily, you wouldn’t notice it shredding. But the truth is, most of the dust in your house are your old skin cells. We lose 600,000 particles of skin every hour. We change our outermost layers every two to four weeks. Within a lifetime, we will have one thousand different skins. Those lips that kissed the first love who broke your heart, those are no longer your lips. Those hands that fought dirty in kindergarten bullying weaker kids, those are no longer your hands. And that face, that face which you sometimes call ugly whenever you look in the mirror, in less that 30 days that will no longer be your face. Do not underestimate your capacity to change. You have been changing all your life.

We are all made of atoms constantly moving in a constellation of push and pull. Their main objective is to keep everything of us together. But there will be days, or nights, when you would feel like you are drifting away and you can’t find any gravity in your center to hold you and keep you from falling apart. When this happens, remember that you are not orbiting towards oblivion; Remember that you do not reside in the darkest recesses of space. You were born from the big bang. The oxygen in your lungs. The iron in your blood. The carbon in your flesh. Each element in your body once belonged to interstellar stuff. Do not let the brilliance inside you flicker like a dying flame. Burn up and spread the light.

note: There was an older version of this poem posted a little more than a year ago, but since then I revisited and revised the poem for stage. This one is more or less (save for a few phrase changes or additional sentences I would insert here and there depending on my mood haha) the version that I am performing on spoken word events

New actions for existing jobs dengeki translations


  • New combos with “Gore Blade” following Riot Sword and “Royal Authority” following Savage Blade have been added. The former has a damage over time effect while the latter has the effect of increasing the weaponskill’s strength.
  • Since these are not enmity-generating, they seems to be primarily for the purposes of increasing DPS either after sufficient enmity is generated or when off-tanking. Defensively, they have an ability which guarantees blocking a single attack known as “Sheltron” and an ability which generates a barrier for nearby party members when the paladin is cured known as “Divine Veil.”
  • We got the impression that the adjustments were focused on allowing the paladin to be utilized more effectively as both a main tank and an off tank.


  • First, a new action called [[JP: Embu, direct translation is something like “martial arts demonstration”]] has been added to change from one form to another. This might be a little confusing, so to give a specific example, there might be some situations where you are trying to avoid enemy attacks and Greased Lightning wears off, but if you’re using this action to change forms without attacking, it would be easier to maintain Greased Lightning.
  • I’m happy to report that this is on the same recast timer as weaponskills and the GCD. By the way, when no form is applied, Opo-opo Form is granted when this is used. In other words, you can go straight into Opo-opo Form at the beginning of combat and apply the additional effect from Dragon Kick immediately. Since only the form changes, even if you use the new action while in Coeurl Form, it won’t have any effect on Greased Lightning.
  • Another new action is the buff known as “Chakra.” This has the feeling of “Focus” or “Accumulate” from monk earlier in the series where the buff can be built up to V. At Chakra V, two abilities become available which consume the stacks: “Purify” [[maybe “Purification,” based on JP equivalent and past FF series use]] with a TP recovery effect and “Forbidden Chakra” [[direct translation is something like “Yin and Yang Chakra Attack”]] which is a weaponskill that deals high damage. 
  • Additionally, another weapon skill that deals very high damage by consuming Greased Lightning III has been added [[“Tornado Kick”]], and monks have also received a long-awaited ranged technique (with quite a cool animation), so it feels like a lot will change.


  • As a counterpart to the “Defiance” tank mode, so to speak, “Deliverance” has been added as a DPS mode. This has the effect of increasing damage dealt and also applies a stacking buff called “Abandon” (which increases critical hit rate) up to a maximum of V. This is similar to the Wrath mechanic in Defiance.
  • One point of great interest is that when you switch between Defiance and Deliverance, the number of accumulated stacks of Wrath or Abandon are maintained. As a particular example, if you switch from Deliverance to Defiance with Abandon III up, it will change to Wrath III automatically. This makes it possible to instantly change from a defensively to an offensively oriented focus, which will further expand the jobs attacking ability.
  • Additionally, the new ability “Raw Intuition” (guaranteed parry from the front, but guaranteed critical hit from any other direction) and a new HP recovery action are being added to help for main tanking.


  • The largest of the new features for dragoon is the new buff “Blood of the Dragon.” The effect of the buff itself is to increase the effects of Jumps and Spineshatter Dive, but when the Full Thrust or Chaos Thrust combos are used, new finishers will be available [[straight JP: “Dragonfang Dragonclaw” and “Swinging Dragon Tail”]], changing them from three step to four step combos.
  • It’s possible to prolong the effect of Blood of the Dragon by using certain weapon skills. On the other hand, certain techniques also shorten the duration of Blood of the Dragon, so it will be important to think about how to build your rotation to maintain the duration of Blood of the Dragon.


  • Similar to the Gauss Barrel of Machinist that was described earlier, a new song called “Wanderer’s Minuet” will be added for bard which will add a casting time to weapon skills to increase their damage and stop auto-attacks from occurring.
  • Additionally, the Minuet has the effect of adding the new attack actions “Empyreal Arrow” and “Iron Jaw.” The latter has the effect of refreshing the effects of Venombite and Windbite if they are already applied to an enemy and the new “Sidewinder” will increase the damage of applied Venombite and Windbite effects, so managing the two DoT skills will be more of a focus than before.


  • The ability “Issou” will be added, strengthening a single weapon skill, and a new three-stage physical attack skill known as “Mugen Sandan” will be added. Other noteworthy additions are the ability to suppress the enmity generation of other party members or the ability to transfer the majority of the ninja’s enmity to other party members (“Kage Watari”). 
  • It’s likely that ninja will become more active with the role of controlling the enmity of party members. In addition, there is a new weapon skill as a combo from Gust Slash which can prolong an active Huton effect, opening up the door to other offensive possibilities.

White Mage

  • New actions which further the pure healing focus of White Mage are being added, such as “Asylum,” which generates a healing field area on the ground, “Assize,” which is a combination AoE damage and healing ability, and “Tetragrammaton,” a targeted instant healing ability.
  • Because “Assize” and “Tetragrammaton” are instant recovery abilities, white mages should have enhanced ability to respond in an emergency. Additionally, the higher tier earth elemental spell “Stone III” and wind elemental spell “Aero III” are being added, so their attacking capabilities will be enhanced as well.

Black Mage

  • The most important of the new actions is “Enochian.” Only under the effects of this action and Astral Fire or Umbral Ice will the powerful new spells “Fire IV” and “Blizzard IV” become available. However, since “Fire IV” and “Blizzard IV” do not extend Astral Fire or Umbral Ice, they will still need to be used in conjunction with actions like Fire and Fire III, so properly building the new rotation will be needed to truly shine.
  • The new “Sharpcast” will guarantee the enhanced bonus effect for the next cast Fire, Thunder, or Scathe, and it will be important to use these in combination with Swiftcast. “Ley Lines” can be used to generate a magic circle at the caster’s location. This has an effect of increasing the attack speed of the caster while within the circle, but if they leave the range, to avoid an enemy’s attack for example, both the effect and the field area will disappear. As with the new bard and machinist mechanics, it will be important to decide when and where will be best to stop moving.


  • The main focus of the new Summoner abilities is enhancing the strength of the Summoner itself, not the Egi pet. For direct attacks, the new actions “Ruin III” and “Tri-disaster” (the existing action has been renamed as “Tri-bind”) will be added. Tri-disaster inflicts Bio, Bio II, and Miasma at the same time, so it should be quite important. The biggest new action, though, is the consumable “Bahamut Aether,” which is granted by consuming Aetherflow.
  • The “Bahamut Aether” buff has the effect of increasing magic damage dealt, and allows you to trigger “Dreadwyrm Trance” when you reach three stacks. With the effect of Dreadwyrm Trance active, you can activate a highly damaging action. Thus far, the uses for Aetherflow have been pretty fixed, so this will force you to put some further thought into it.


  • One new move called “Dissipation” is used by returning a summoned fairy. Despite the disadvantage of not having a fairy summoned for a period of time, the move has a powerful bonus effect. Apparently it was considered to be too strong, so it’s currently undergoing some last minute adjustments.
  • For new recovery actions, the new Aetherflow-consuming “Indomitability” is being added as an AoE heal, and “Emergency Tactics” converts the barrier effect of cures to additional curing power. Another new ability [[“Deployment Tactics”]] spreads the effects of Eye for an Eye and Galvanize from one party member to nearby party members. Many of the new actions will take some thought as to when they are best utilized.
  • In general, both the instantaneous healing ability and the barrier generating abilities of scholar have been enhanced. Additionally, a new non-elemental magic attack action has been added.
Human Anatomy

Everything you need to learn about life, you can learn from anatomy class.

Right before your conception, just right after your last moments as daddy’s tiny sperm cell, you were able to outswim approximately 250 million other sperms to the finish line, which coincidentally was also your last moments as mommy’s egg cell. To say that the numbers were stacked against you is a severe understatement. There were 250 million different outcomes; 250 million possible fetuses. You had 0.0000004% chances of being conceived. You became a fetus because you’ve earned it by winning a race. You were born because you were a fighter.

Within your body, there is over 60,000 miles of arteries, veins and capillaries combined. The circumference of planet Earth is only 24,859.82 miles. If we lay out your blood vessels end to end in a straight line, they could circle the earth more than twice. Imagine endlessly pumping 8 pints of blood delivering them around the world 2 times over, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Your heart is overworked. It needs some tender loving care. But don’t rely on other people to do that. Don’t! Their hearts are just as overworked. So cry when you have to. Be afraid. Think. But also remember to be independent. And always, always be kind to your heart.

Unless your skin is dry or flakes off easily, you don’t notice it shredding. In reality, most of the dust in your house are your old skin cells. We shred 600,000 particles of skin every hour. We replace our outer skin every 2 to 4 weeks. We will have 1,000 different skins in our lifetime. Those lips that kissed the first love who broke your heart, those are no longer your lips. Those hands that fought dirty in kindergarten bullying weaker kids, those are no longer your hands. And that face, that face that you call ugly whenever you look at the mirror, in less than 30 days that will no longer be your face. Do not underestimate your capacity to change. You have been changing all your life.

The bad news is, we will all die. Over 100 people die every minute, over 6 thousand every hour, over 55 million every year. If you know 1,000 people, 7 of them would likely be dead within the next 300 days. The good news is, you are still here. You are outliving millions of others, like how you’ve outswam millions when you first raced in a swimming competition that won you your conception. You were born. You are still alive. And you’ve beaten two of the greatest odds. Now remind yourself that, whenever you feel unlucky. And whenever you feel down, whenever you feel like giving up, just remember that you owe it to the 250 million others, who didn’t had the chance to live.

—Mark Dimaisip