obscure's nonsense

OKay so I love how I see a bunch of random shit playing overwatch but its always the most obscure nonsensical things that seem to make me laugh more than others. 

 So the other day I just so happened to be walking back to our point on the event night market map and I walk up to see this Symmetra pestering this enemy Widowmaker at our point.  The Widowmaker is on a ledge above this Symmetra who is completely oblivious at first to the symmetra below her. Ether way I swear I see them lock eye contact for a moment, then without ether of them really moving from their spots, the Symmetra spawns just one turret on some sort water/oil? container which the widow promptly destroys.  This goes on I swear for a good minute or so of this Symmetra individually spawning one turret that immediately gets destroyed by this widow,  I just, I pretty much stopped what I was doing to watch this whole interaction play out. It kinda boggles my mind how enraptured I was watching this whole Symmetra vs Widowmaker interaction play out before me. 

I dunno if it made me reflect on life or some nonsense but It certainly made me laugh.I just wanted to share this stupid story.  Oh also the Widowmaker did end up killing the Symmetra in the end. It was very lackluster.

hamelin-born  asked:

If Theseus has woolomancy and Newt has dangermancy, what kind of obscure, ridiculous magic does Graves have?

(In relation to this post and this one)

Graves? Obscure and ridiculous magic? Nonsense. He wouldn’t. Never.

On the other hand, sometimes in the middle of a particularly pressing duel, he’ll do this little fancy bit of footwork, you know? A bit of a sidestep, a half turn, hip jutting out to the side and weight shifting onto his front foot, and the curse that should have flambéd him just kinda… fizzles out. When it’s his turn to fire the offensive spells, he could fire them the usual way but then again, he could go for a one-and-two lockstep and that extra flare to his wrist, and bam that’s an overpowered stunner right there that no one’s getting up from any time soon.

Not that Graves is doing anything unusual to power it up, of course not. Wand movements are an inherent part of magic. Ask anyone. Dancing? Fuck no, don’t be ridiculous. Graves doesn’t dance. Ever. Haven’t you noticed? He stalks around MACUSA’s annual ball messing with the wards or skulking near the food and if anyone tries to get him to take a turn on the floor he glares them into submission. No dancing.

(One time when he was out celebrating the end of a particularly hard case with his aurors he maybe had a bit too much to drink and maybe forgot the no dancing rule. And, given that we’re talking about maybes, he maybe got up on the table did something completely sinful with his hips that maybe transfigured every liquid in a two mile radius into single malt scotch and given that this included the water mains, the gas in the nomajs’ cars, the various medicines and fluids in the local hospital - yeah. That, uh, that wasn’t Graves’ finest moment.)

But if you’ve ever wandered by the Graves property in the evening, ever peered in through the lead-paned windows to the crackle of firelight inside, you might see Graves leading his mother through a lively foxtrot while his father stamps the time. The tiny space between the sofas and the coffee tables is taken up by a grand hall, white marble pillars, vaulted ceilings painted with triumphant angels and magic-wielding saints; Graves’ tartan pyjamas fade into an old fashioned suit and when he spins his mother her jewel-studded silk skirts flare around her feet. The fire is replaced by wide open doors, a balcony, the golden light of an Italian evening; his father’s stomping forms parts of the orchestra his mother remembers from her childhood. The notes hang in the air for long moments after the dance ends and the grandeur fades back into their cramped sitting room.

And if you’ve ever seen Graves while his aurors are in the hospital, you’ll know that he can’t keep still. He fidgets, foot tapping, fingers twitching; leave him alone for a minute and he’s likely to pace, rhythmically, with sharp turns and heels ringing against the floor. Tina swears he once moonwalked a circle around her to stop her bleeding out in the field but, as Graves pointed out, she’d lost a lot of blood and was probably hallucinating. She hadn’t lost a lot of blood when she caught him checking the perimeter of their temporary camp and sneaking in a touch of Irish line dancing to strengthen the wards. Graves freezes for a moment when he notices her watching and then continues in perfectly normal strides as though he’d never been doing anything else, and Tina rolls his eyes and lets him keep his secrets. 

today a student asked me if i’d ever been in a relationship and, because it’s the same student who is constantly asking me weird personal questions, i decided to make it weirder and replied “no, because i sprung from zeus’ forehead as a fully grown adult, i never had a childhood or any life experiences, i only exist within the context of this classroom”

it was a good time,10/10 would spout obscure cryptic nonsense again

hope

The worst thing about being ugly is the hope.

The hope and the desperate wishing that you aren’t ugly. That you aren’t oddly misshapen and facially twisted, a hopeless array of disjointed features. 

The hope that you’re secretly pretty, and that the world has just been lying to you. You come up with obscure, nonsensical justifications for this, that only make sense in context of desperate self-pity. 

They just don’t want me to be arrogant.

They’re lying.

They’re jealous. 

But you know these thoughts have no basis in reality.

You’re just ugly.

But then there’s a small glimmer of hope; a small hint of light in the oppressive depression and darkness.

Someone tells you, you’re pretty.

Maybe your mom or your sister or your bestfriend or a drunken stranger but it doesn’t matter. You cling onto that hope with a rabid desperation, and let it guide you through all the hatred and mistreatment.

Even if it was a lie. 

But still it’s hope in the shadows.

Until it gets crushed.

Religion tried to convince sincere but gullible people…that they had a god-shaped hole in their hearts…that only religion could fill with constantly repeated stories about god…when instead…people had a thirst to understand and make sense of reality…and gradually realized, in ever increasing numbers…that religion did not represent reality at all…but were actually obscuring reality with nonsensical religious fantasy…to achieve power over others…and for personal financial gain…

…the inevitable result of competing sectarian religious beliefs…was ever-more conflict and contention…ignorance and confusion…throughout the world…

The way forward, is reason…and secular humanism…understanding…and collaboration…equality…and sharing…