scintillates

Un bel corpo a volte non basta per provocare..bisogna avere anche una mente sensuale per accendere scintille e fuochi….

Audio+ 0.4.3: Pop Out Controls

It happens to the best of us. We scroll away from a playing audio post, loving and appreciating its heartfelt music, promising to cherish its tunes for the next four minutes. We whisper sweet nothings to the audio post as it disappears up our dashes, gone from our eyes but not our hearts or our ears.

But then we see a Vine. A Vine that promises to scintillate and stupefy if only we could unmute it for just six seconds. A Vine whose whole experience would change our lives if only we could just pause the lovely music playing in our ears for just six seconds.

Let’s dare to take those six seconds back. In Audio+ version 0.4.3, if you scroll away from a playing audio post this cute little BB-8 impersonator will follow you until you close it, helpfully providing the pause and play buttons your short attention span needs.

Get Audio+ 0.4.3 in the New XKit Extensions Gallery or update today.

Hopeless and Hounded - Chapter 5

Chapter 5 is out! I was a little hesitant about posting this, but I just decided to go for it. Again it’s Wingdings-centric, but the next chapter is going to be more focused on the other Baby Bones, don’t worry.


Wingdings was slow to recover from the sudden panic attack that had come over him, but eventually Corbel managed to calm him down enough to get him to replace the shredded sweater (Corbel silently rejoiced at this fact. Honestly, what had he been thinking when he’d grabbed it?) with some actual clothes. The black slacks and forest green turtleneck he’d picked out were a little big for the youngster, but he seemed comfortable enough. In fact, he seemed so comfortable that he’d buried the lower portion of his face beneath the collar.

“Better?” Corbel asked once he’d finished helping Wingdings get dressed. The young skeleton nodded silently, and Corbel gave him an encouraging smile before guiding him back downstairs to finish eating. Sans and Papyrus had already scoffed down their meals and were now lying on one of the couches, sauce covering their faces (and in Papyrus’s case; his front) along with wonderfully content expressions. Corbel felt a little better for that; knowing he was able to bring such simple happiness to at least two of these children.

The other, though…

“Are you hungry, kid?” Corbel enquired, turning back to Wingdings, who stood just a little bit behind him with half his face still hidden behind the turtleneck. “I can reheat the spaghetti for you if you want.”

Then again, the kid had been starved for who knew how long. Maybe it would be best if he had something else until he got used to solid foods again.

“I’m hungry, but I feel sick too,” Wingdings murmured, his voice muffled by his sweater. “Been like that for a while…”

A frown met Corbel’s features as he assessed the boy’s words. Wingdings was either sick or starved to the point where he wouldn’t be able to eat solid foods.

“I’ll get you some medicine, then if you’re up to it, you can eat something,” he said.

Immediately, he regretted his choice in words, because Wingdings started shaking.


“I-I don’t…” he stuttered, torn between running and going to Corbel for protection. The monster had proved to be friendly and a provider of sanctuary, but the mention of medicine set off the blaring alarms in his mind.

“It’s okay,” Corbel said quickly, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. “It’ll help you get better; trust me.”

Trust. He hadn’t trusted people before; there’d never been a reason to. It was… new, and… nice, he supposed.

With some trepidation, he followed Corbel into the clean, spacious room full of cabinets where the flaming monster had made the food earlier. The place unnerved him a little; it reminded him of… of that place… with the counters and white floor, but the scents were warm and inviting; not like the harsh, sterile reek of chemicals that he was used to. Whilst Corbel searched through a cupboard for something, he simply stood in the middle of the room, tapping his toes against the cool tile floors. The soft ‘clack clack clacks’ of his phalanges helped calm his scatty, overexcitable nerves fairly quickly, but he got the feeling that he’d quickly get berated for it. He always did.

“Here,” Corbel announced, turning around to show him the small, dark brown bottle in his hand. In his other hand, there was a small silver instrument with a wide, dish-shaped end. He’d seen them before whilst rooting through peoples’ leftover food, but they were usually dented, bent or broken beyond use, and he hadn’t really had the time to figure out what they did. “This is the medicine.”

That was medicine? Medicine came in bottles as well? The kind he was familiar with (and feared greatly) usually came in the form of pills or… or needles.

The places where they injected him still hurt…

“Are you alright?” Corbel enquired, his voice surprisingly gentle yet somehow able to snap him out of his daze.

“I’m okay…” he murmured, rubbing his arms and keeping a wary eye on the bottle. “How do I… t-take..?”

“The medicine? You just swallow it,” Corbel explained, pouring a dark green, sweet-smelling liquid into the dish end of the instrument. It… didn’t look like medicine to him…

“H-how… how do I know that… th-that it’s s-safe?” he questioned skeptically, eyeing the 'medicine’ with unmasked suspicion. It was a brash move in his books. Questions usually lead to pain and yelling for him to shut up and do as he was told.

“Do you want me to take some first?” Corbel asked calmly. “To prove that it’s safe for you?”

A timid nod was the only answer. With a small grunt of affirmation, Corbel raised the medicine to his mouth, and swallowed. Neon green fire flickered across his form for a split second, but other than that, nothing happened.

“See?” Corbel said, a gentle smile on his face. “It’s harmless. You might feel a bit drowsy after taking it, but that means the magic is working to make you feel better. Do you want to take it now?”

He nodded again, and Corbel poured some more medicine into the dish-like instrument before holding it out to him. He didn’t force it down his throat or shout at him, but he still felt hesitant.

“Take your time,” Corbel said.

So he did. After a short while, he opened his mouth and allowed the dish to be placed in his mouth. The metallic taste that followed made him gag, but he managed to swallow the medicine. It tasted better than he’d expected; a sticky sweetness that reminded him of a soft type of bread that he’d found in someone’s rubbish a while ago.

“Tastes good,” he said quietly, making Corbel’s smile widen a little more. It made him smile too, even though the action hurt a little.

“That’s good to know. I’ll make some broth for you to eat; it’ll help you along with the medicine.”

“Th-thank you.”

“No problem, kid. Do you have a name? You never told me earlier…”

The smile fell away from his face, and he unconsciously rubbed his hand against the… the mark on his arm…

“No name,” he murmured.

“I see,” Corbel said quietly, his voice level. The flames on his skull sputtered for some reason. “How about I call you Wingdings, huh?”

Wingdings… Yes, he liked it. It felt… comfortable, familiar.

“Wingdings… Thank you.”

12h 47
À Lucia,
27 octobre 1959-24 janvier 2016

Poème chamanique lu en son hommage, le 29 janvier 2016 :
Ne restez pas à pleurer autour de mon cercueil,
Je ne m’y trouve pas – je ne dors pas.
Je suis un millier de vents qui soufflent,
Je suis le scintillement du diamant sur la neige,
Je suis la lumière du soleil sur le grain mûr,
Je suis la douce pluie d’automne, je suis l’envol hâtif des oiseaux qui vont commencer leur vol circulaire quand tu t’éveilles dans le calme du matin,
Je suis le prompt essor qui lance vers le ciel où ils tournoient, les oiseaux silencieux.
Je suis la douce étoile qui brille, la nuit.
Ne restez pas à vous lamenter devant ma tombe, je n’y suis pas.
Je ne suis pas morte.

Photo prise à Aigle

Au premier plan, le Rhône

The lovely Pride Of Dubai has been retired, 9 February 2016.

“It’s with great sadness that the racing career of Group 1 juvenile star Pride Of Dubai, came to a close on February 8 after he suffered bone bruising in the Group 3 Eskimo Prince at Randwick on February 6.

Unfortunately it was the same injury which sidelined the elite colt for 10 months after a scintillating win in the 2015 Group 1 Inglis Sires Produce, so read on as we take a look back on his wonderful achievements.”
Read more here.

Photo source: X

College classes should not be 100% lecture

College classes should not be 100% lecture

College classes should not be 100% lecture

The lecture period should not be the sole or even primary method of knowledge dispensation 

Students should not be able to skip doing all readings because it will all be covered verbatim in lecture

Class periods should include a scintillating blend of group work, discussion, demonstration, q&a, media, and team-based learning exercises

Class periods should be about elucidating tricky concepts, testing students’ mastery of material, and encouraging free thought and conversation

It should not be about dumping dry facts into student’s heads, on which they’ll be some dry-bones exam weeks later

if all you do in your classes is repeat book material and lazily read from Powerpoint slides, you are not demonstrating your value as a teacher, you are a glorified audiobook

You are setting the awful precedent that you are not dynamic or responsive, that you do not respect students’ views or efforts, and that you are replaceable

This is particularly dangerous in a time when adjuncts represent the majority of the college education workforce, and when the push to online education could eradicate many teaching positions entirely

If you don’t make live, human class periods a thing of value, it will be eradicated and you’ll be reduced to nothing but an underpaid, glorified grader on an asychronous, web-based interface

and you can bet that will pay less than actual human teaching

And there’s nothing more boring than repeating the same material over and over again every class for years, anyway, trust me

Make your class a collaborative, extemporaneous, open, living, critical, dynamic thing

Don’t just lecture

Ho visto scintille schizzar via / quando due sassi sono strofinati, / forse là dentro non fa così buio; forse c’è una luna che brilla / da chissà dove
—  Charles Simic
Il dotto pone tutta la sua energia nel dire sì e no, nella critica del già pensato, – egli stesso non pensa più… L'istinto d'autodifesa si è rammollito; diversamente si rivolterebbe contro i libri. Il dotto – un décadent. – L'ho visto con i miei occhi: nature dotate, ricche e nate per essere libere «ammazzate dalla lettura» già a trent'anni, ridotti ormai a fiammiferi, che bisogna strofinare perché diano scintille – «pensieri» –. Leggere un libro di prima mattina, al giungere del giorno, nella piena freschezza, nell'aurora della propria forza, questo io lo chiamo vizio!
—  Nietzsche

anexpansionlikegold asked:

What is coalescence? What is a shadow? What is a labyrinth? What is a mirror?

Coalescence: the eventual destruction of all things. A doorway between worlds. The kingdom in the sky, the kingdom under the sea. παντα. The stars, like fireflies pinned to black cloth, in their scintillated wheeling overhead. The result to every equation. The solution to every unsolvable mystery. Where did Amelia Earhart go? Who sank Atlantis? What happened to the girl in the red hoodie?  Who was the Axeman? Who was Jack the Ripper? And why, and why, and why? She’s here, waiting. It was me: woman with a pipe bomb and a bone to pick. She saw the terrible end. A man with a purpose. A man. Because. Because. Because.

Shadow: Night’s long fingers reaching into your hair. Your grandmother when she says mijita, you’re scaring me. The eyes that never blink. A doorway; then a window; then a crevice; then a thumbnail.

Labyrinth: One foot in front of another. If you’re going through hell, keep going. One day at a time. It works if you work it. Soft dust of the underground grey dust of the time before time bright dust of the ancient days golden dust of the dancing bones sunlit dust of the after-world dirt-brown dust of the hungry mouth mouth full of ashes mouth full of platitudes mouth full of absence mouth full of

Mirror: death and his long gaze, unfaltering.

For @superirishbreakfasttea who lights up this fandom with her dazzling array of fics and drabbles – because it is apparently her birthday and because she said she liked this AU.

The new school year always filled Jemma with a level of excitement that stood in direct opposition to the deep-seated apathy of her returning students. That said, she had allowed herself a little sigh of dismay when she first sighted her roll for Senior Biology. It was quite the Who’s Who.

Tate Johnson, Jason Langford, Greg Bacewicz AND Rebecca Crawford and Nicole Marquez. 

Great.

A shaft of sunlight streaming through the dusty staff-room window fell across her hand and a glowing rainbow of colour exploded across the class schedules and term calendars and school code reminders pinned haphazardly all over her noticeboard.

Jemma waggled her fingers, setting the lustrous colours dancing across the beige office walls and the cottage cheese stucco ceilings. She smiled indulgently at the memory of Fitz’s sudden obsession with colour, clarity, cut and carat weight, with brightness, fire and scintillation, with weight ratio, durability, polish and symmetry. If he hadn’t been so determined to find a stone that conveyed his love for her, he would have been thoroughly dull to talk to for a while there. But after she’d done some research into the ethics of diamond mining and encouraged him to think about antiques instead of new stones, that’s when the fun had really begun.

The pair of them had dressed up in whatever finery their early-career salaries could afford and sashayed through pretentious antique houses, now and again settling themselves in priceless chairs for a breather and drooling over mahogany library furniture the like of which they’d never afford.

At last they’d found the perfect ring – an art deco diamond number with an intricate filigree setting that seemed to light the central diamond from within.
The scientist in her duly noted an allotrope of carbon, a three dimensional arrangement of carbon atoms linked to each other by strong covalent bonds, a refractive index of 2.417 and a dispersive coefficient of 0.044. 

But the rest of her recalled the engagement ring being gently slid onto her trembling finger by an equally elevated Leo Fitz, melted at the memory of his stumbling but heartrending proposal and nearly swooned at the still fresh sensation of that first passionate kiss that had begun the rest of their lives together.

The light from her ring fell across the roll, and specifically the names that had pushed her into Fitz’s arms in the first place. 

She smiled.

Perhaps Senior Bio wouldn’t be so bad after all.

modrp asked:

Mmm for the Meta thing - Maybe you could write about how Gilgamesh feels about being "roommates" with Kirei?

send me a topic to write a meta about my muse on

Well, if you think about it, the Gilgamesh we know and Kirei weren’t roommates for all that long. According to canon, Gilgamesh took the potion of youth for the ten years between the two grail wars. Aside from that, we aren’t really told what went on during that time, aside from the orphan fiasco that seems to be a focus of many a fandom goer’s gripes with Kirei and Gilgamesh. Granted, canon is rather convoluted in this- if Gilgamesh obtained incarnation, what need did he have for external mana sources? Would he not have been able to produce his own, akin to any other mage? Or maybe I just answered my own question- Although Gilgamesh had a physical body, he was still a servant, hence why in Unlimited Blade Works he stated that his being a servant made him unable to serve as the Grail’s vessel/conduit.

My personal headcanon states that Gilgamesh did not remain in his child form for the entirety of the ten years. Being such an age truly limited the types of things he was able to do (particularly in relation to his alcohol consumption). So yes, to avoid his aging, Gilgamesh spent the majority of his time in child form- the rest of the time, let’s say 25%, he was an adult. In addition to drinking, he benefitted from this time by traveling the world- exploring that which he could not while alive and learning more about how civilizations flourished long after his time. I’d like to think that this endeavor gave him more of an appreciation, not necessarily for humanity, but for what the world had become.

But I’m getting off topic.

I think first we need to look at how Gilgamesh feels about Kirei in general.

There is no true friendship there- Gilgamesh is entertained by Kirei’s soul-searching in Fate/Zero, watching and guiding him merely for his own sport. Perhaps by the time Kirei killed Tokiomi Tohsaka, Gilgamesh had begun to respect him as he grew into his own. Besides, why else would Gilgamesh have offered to become Kirei’s own servant, if not for his own gain? I think, like Archer in Fate/Stay Night, Gilgamesh could have found alternate sources of mana and simply utilized the Archer-class’s Independent Action ability, waiting around until the fifth war, but I believe that his regard of Kirei decided his option toward the former.

In addition to this, I can imagine that Kirei’s duties as a priest with his own parishioners, as well as being an Executor of the Church, would often take him away from the church itself, leaving Gilgamesh to do as he pleased. In addition to this, with my headcanon in mind, Gilgamesh was also not there at the same time. So could they have really spent so much time together to even “enjoy” the other’s company as “roommates”?

So to answer your question simply: Gilgamesh does not mind Kirei- he enjoys watching the priest indulge in his habits. His presence certainly makes things more interesting, but they are most definitely not the traditional idea of friends.