ten stop

Fun fact: Tenochtitlan fell in 1521. From 1603 onwards, large numbers of honest-to-god fricking Japanese Samurai came to Mexico from Japan to work as guardsmen and mercenaries. 

Ergo, it would be 100% historically accurate to write a story starring a quartet consisting of the child or grandchild of Aztec Noblemen, an escaped African slave, a Spanish Jew fleeing the Inquisition (which was relaxed in Mexico in 1606, for a time) and a Katana-wielding Samurai in Colonial Mexico.

The thing that’s honestly hilarious about aggressive and moralistic anti shipping movements is that it literally does not matter at all.

Nobody outside of a very niche bubble and a small number of people even remotely gives a shit. They pour all this time and energy into something that absolutely nobody in the real world outside of the Internet gives a flying fuck about. It would be sad if it wasn’t so funny.

5

insp.
- Time can be rewritten!
- Not those times, not one line… don`t you dare!

Tough

I got inspired by humans are weird posts.
The first time it happened, no one took notice. When it reached the hundredth time, everyone took notice.

The newest members of the Galactic Alliance were tough beyond imagination. Stories were spread all over the place.

“I once saw one go for ten klicks without stopping, while their leg was broken.”

“Hey, have you heard about the time one managed to lift half of a ship to get a member of the crew out?”

“They do what???”

“They pierce metal into their flesh and inject ink into their skin.”

“How do they not die?”

“They heal so fast it doesn’t trouble them.”

The species in question: Humans. Rumors spread of their strength. Twenty years after they joined one of the Universe’s most brilliant minds released an article on humans.

She had lived among humans since they joined. Every bit of their culture fascinated her. When her apartment complex went up in flames she saw men and women racing inside to get those trapped out. Her eyes widened when she met veterans. They told her stories that she could hardly believe, but their mental and physical scars told otherwise. Her heart stopped when a child went missing and their parents searched for weeks even when others had given up. Famine struck in small countries, cars crashed, children were born, friends became family, some were lost, others were gained, and these strange creatures always kept going. Humans were people of iron wills, mothers, fathers, sisters, and brothers.

This brilliant mind read through their lore and felt all their feelings. Danger was not unfamiliar to them. It was a fact of life. Animals nearly gave her a heart attack.

“What creatures are these?”

“Those are cats. They’re a type of pet.”

“You keep flesh-eating clawed animals as pets?”

Not to mention the weather, and the planet itself.

“Why is the ground shaking?”

“It’s an Earthquake. They’re quite common here, because we are on a fault line.”

“Is this planet designed to kill you?”

“In a way, yes.”

The atmosphere was made up of oxygen. Which is used as a type of fuel source. Essentially, humans breathed death.

When the article hit the mainstream humans became the most sought after explorers. Who knew that these people were so tough.

“Hansol’s saesang…”

“…she followed his personal vacation..“

”…followed him in Busan…“

”…chased him in front of SM..“

“Same saesang followed Winwin to china”

”…winwin looked uncomfortable…“

“…tracked Winwin’s phone…

(( OOC: So I had to pick my car up from the garage straight after filming. And instead of explaining to the mechanic why I had purple eyebrows, I chose to completely ignore the situation. Until, of course, he asked me.

But instead of trying to make up a relatively normal-sounding excuse (photo shoot, makeup experiment, ANYTHING) … I said I had an accident with some hair dye??

So let’s hope my car never breaks down because I cannot show my face there ever again. ))

my dear, you were born
    with charcoal on your fingers
    and paint stains on your bones
you were made to shine
    with summer in your eyes
    and daybreak in your blood

ah, but my dear
the world is not kind to starlit boys
the world does not know what to do
with sunshine and charcoal and martyrs
except to burn
                 and burn
                         and burn

and oh, how you burned

now, my dear,
your fingers are black with gunpower smoke
and your bones are stained with blood
your eyes, they are blue with ice and misery
and your blood, it pulses with bursting grenades

but at least the world got its legend,
didn’t it?

—  nothing burns brighter than a hero in flames ( j.p. )

ian-noble  asked:

hear me out: hana teaching junkrat to play video games

“okay, so,” hana says, “the main thing to remember is that clicking the left means shoot and moving the mouse around changes where you’re aiming.”

junkrat frowns at the screen and jerks the mouse right. the screen violently changes scenes - in the same area, facing a different direction. wow, he thinks, weird, his stomach doing a bit of a flip, and then he asks, “so what’s the point?”

hana shrugs. “you shoot stuff. shoot enough stuff and shoot it well enough and you move onto the next level.”

“just the same old shit over and over again?”

“yeah, pretty much.”

junkrat blinks, processing this. “you get paid for this?”

“yep. turns out that if you get really good, people like to watch you.” she shrugs again at his incredulous look. “i do not make the rules. are you going to try it or not?”

junkrat looks back to the screen and nods, hesitantly placing his free hand onto the keyboard. hana had made him scrub his fingers clean before he could even think about touching her setup, and he can see why, now; the whole thing is mostly pink and white, easily smudged if he isn’t careful. “how do i move again?”

“these four keys,” hana says, reaching out to move his fingers to the proper place. “up, down, left, right. pretty simple. hardest part is coordinating both hands.”

“seems dumb, doin’ stuff like this,” junkrat says as he gently moves his character forward. all he can see of the actual player is their hands and a gun of some kind, darting through some kind of forest, and he takes a few experimental shots. the firearm lets out a few pathetic coughs as it sprays some ammo; a flimsy, weak weapon, in his opinion - he’d trade it for a grenade launcher any day of the week. “what’s the point, if it ain’t gonna get you things?”

there’s a short silence. “dunno,” hana says.

“why not? you do this shit all the time.”

“yeah,” hana says.

“so?” junkrat prods.

“dunno,” hana says again, and then elaborates, “i get paid for it. and i like it, i guess. and i drive my mech because of it.” an enemy pops up on the screen - he’s so taken off-guard that the first few shots go wide, and his character grunts as a few bullets from the enemy hit him. “just something to do.”

junkrat hums thoughtfully. a few seconds later and he gets a headshot, and the enemy falls. nothing too exciting, and he keeps moving forward. “that’s it?”

“sometimes it is easier to just pretend you are not living your life, you know?” hana says, and the way she says it makes junkrat look away from the screen. she’s expressionless, as if knowing his eyes are on her. “an escape. that is all it is.”

he doesn’t really get it, mostly. his whole life has orbited survival. there was never time to relax or do much of anything that didn’t relate to that. but hana seems to enjoy video games, and she’d made an effort to find him a game that had minimal reading required, and he likes to think he and hana are friends, kind of, so he doesn’t say what first comes to mind. hog would be proud, if he was here.

“you are getting killed,” hana says eventually. junkrat looks back at the screen just as his character lets out an agonized screen and falls; GAME OVER flashes in red letters and hana says, “sorry. i know this probably does not interest you at all.”

“s’fine,” junkrat says, waving a hand. “i’ll give it another go. think i could get around to liking this, eventually.”

“yeah?” hana says, and there’s a tiny smile on her face. “cool. just hit the second button there.”

junkrat does. he dies again thirty seconds later, but hana’s laughing and that’s ten more seconds than last time, so he’ll take what little victories he can get.