undersizing

Alternatives for 25 overused words in writing

1. Interesting- note worthy; thought-provoking; fascinating; attracting; appealing; attention-grabbing; captivating; gripping; invigorating; engrossing; engaging; electrifying.  

2. Beautiful- striking; stunning; magnificent; lovely; charming; gorgeous; radiant; dazzling.

3. Good- acceptable, wonderful, exceptional; positive; brilliant; first-rate; notable; stellar; favorable; superb; marvellous; prime.

4. Bad- awful; lousy; poor; unacceptable; crummy; dreadful; rough; inferior; substandard; atrocious; appalling; dreadful; defective.

5. Look- glance; fixate; observe; stare; gaze; peer; scan; watch; study; browse; eye; glimpse; review; inspect.

6. Nice- lovely; superior; pleasant; satisfying; delightful; likeable; agreeable; correct; adequate; swell; fair; okay; approved.

7. Very- extremely; exceedingly; exceptionally; immensely; tremendously; abundantly; particularly; remarkably.

8. Fine- satisfactory; worthy; respectable; exquisite; suitable; well; imposing; decent; admirable; praise-worthy; decent.

9. Happy- cheerful; delighted; pleased; content; amused; thrilled; elated; thrilled; ecstatic; on cloud 9. 

10. Really- genuinely; truly; honestly; actually; undoubtedly; certainly; remarkably; incredibly; downright; unquestionably; extremely.

11. Sad- miserable; gloomy; devastated; down at heard; distraught; distressed; dispirited; sorrowful; downcast; feeling blue; desolate.

12. Big- massive; huge; giant; gigantic; enormous; large; colossal; immense; bulky; tremendous; hefty; sizable; extensive; great; substantial. 

13. Shocked- taken aback; lost for words; flabbergasted; staggered; outraged; astonished; astounded; stunned; speechless; appalled.

14. Small- tiny; petite; mini; miniature; microscopic; minuscule; compact; pocket-sized; cramped; puny; undersized; limited; meager; modest; minute; pint-sized. 

15. Angry- irate; enraged; touchy; cross; resentful; indignant; infuriated; wound-up; worked-up; seething; raging; heated; bitter; bad-tempered; offended; frustrated. 

16. Know- understand; comprehend; realize; learn; perceive; recognize; grasp; sense.

17. Change- alter; transform; replace; diversify; adjust; adapt; modify; remodel; vary; evolve; transfigure; redesign; refashion; advance; transition; shift; adjustment.

18. Old- aged; ancient; matured; elderly; senior; veteran; decrepit; seasoned; venerable; past one’s prime; doddering; senile.

19. Think- ponder; reflect; conceive; imagine; contemplate; consider; determine; realize; visualize; guess/assume; conclude; envision. 

20. Funny- comical; ludicrous; amusing; droll; entertaining; absurd; hilarious; silly; whimsical; hysterical; joking; witty; facetious; slapstick; side-splitting; knee-slapping.

21. Go- move; proceed; advance; progress; travel; walk; journey; depart; exit; flee; make one’s way; clear out; get underway.

22. Give- grant; donate; hand-out; present; provide; deliver; hand over; offer; award; bestow; supply with; contribute to; send; entrust.

23. Get- acquire; obtain; receive; gain; earn; gather; collect; buy; purchase; attain; score; secure; take possession of; grab.

24. Easy- effortless; simple; clear; smooth; straightforward; uncomplicated; painless; accessible; apparent; basic; plain; child’s play; facile; elementary; cinch. 

25. Fast- agile; brisk; rapid; nimble; swift; accelerated; fleeting; high-speed; active; dashing; winged; hurried; turbo. 

The Problem with Modern Clown Breeding

Alright, this may be out of line, but there’s an elephant in the comically-undersized room and it’s high time we addressed it. Simply put, breed standards have become stringent to the point where inbreeding, and all the health issues that come with it, is rampant in the clown-showing circuit. Confused? Let me show you an example.

This is what a Belgian Spurthigh looked like in the late 1800s. Like most breeds in the Japing group, it was bred for function over form - those distinctive bony spurs on its hips, for example, protected the pelvis during particularly intense pratfalls. But over the last 100 years, we’ve exaggerated these features to a grotesque degree - take a look at the modern Belgian Spurthigh.

A single-minded focus on aesthetics has turned the breed into a warped caricature of its past self, and a veritable time bomb of health issues. Cataracts and hip dysplasia are so common that newly-hatched chucklets have to be tested for them, and the hip spurs are so pronounced in utero that they run the risk of puncturing the egg sac. Let me emphasize that again: in their current state, they cannot lay eggs naturally - to prevent the eggs from puncturing themselves, you have to give the mother a C-section and pull the strings of egg sacs out like a bunch of handkerchiefs tied together. This is not a state any living thing should exist in.

But how did it get this bad, you ask? Blame clown-showing authorities like the American Kook Club. The breed standards they set defining “ideal” clowns have gradually called for more and more pronounced features. When individuals win big events like Jokesminster, every breeder of that breed wants to to have the winner sire a litter with one of their clowns. When everyone is focused on a single, homogeneous ideal, inbreeding runs rampant and the breed’s gene pool shrinks dramatically.

So what do we do now? Unfortunately, there isn’t an easy solution. Preserving high-risk breeds may require crossing over with related breeds (in the case of the Belgian Spurthigh, we’ve seen some success with Andalusian Fool mixes). Clown breeders must continue to put pressure on the AKC and other authorities to prioritize health when defining breed standards. The clown breeds we know and love are in danger, but I believe that if we work together, we can continue to have happy and healthy clowns for generations to come.

Strawberries (Damian Wayne x Reader) *Collab with Colormemeow*

A/N: Here’s the fic me and @colormemeow wrote together in celebration of our 300 milestone!

Warnings: None!



You had woken up that morning, unenthusiastically expecting an empty apartment. It had been unbearably boring ever since Batman had temporarily grounded you from patrol.  But instead of the usual empty house, you found Damian, flopped unceremoniously onto your couch, looking like he’d been hit by, well, a Batmobile.

“Um… Hello?” you greeted and walked over to the sofa, kneeling so that you could make eye contact with him.

“Good morning,” he replied, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

This had happened before, so the shock factor had worn off slightly.

“You, my friend, are getting blood all over my couch,” you pointed out.

‘It’s not my blood,” he tried to reassure you.

“That’s not any better! Now, why don’t we get you out of that uniform?“

“Beloved, are you attempting to flirt with me?” Damian responded, smirking.

“If you think that this is flirting, you’re out of your damn mind. I’m saying that you smell bad and I want you to shower, so get off of my couch,” you said, quickly pecking him on the nose.

He huffed in annoyance before rolling off the couch and making his way to your bathroom.

“Your shampoo is in there!” you called from the linen closet, where you were trying to see if Damian had left any clothes at your house.

Damian stood in the shower, looking at your bottles of soap. On the shower shelf, there was a wide array of soaps, including the shampoo you had gotten for him when he stayed over. However, a different bottle caught his eye.


Damian walked out into your bedroom, to find the clothes you had laid out, for him. He raised an eyebrow at the choice, but chose not to complain. A few minutes later he walked out of your room wearing grey sweats and an undersized black t-shirt. Damian noticed a pink sweatshirt sitting on a chair. He stopped to consider his dignity before putting on the sweatshirt. It fit and was fairly warm, so he didn’t mind the color.


You were lying on your sofa, snacking on a bowl of strawberries that you had gotten for yourself while waiting for Damian to get out of the shower. There was a loud thumping sound, followed by a string of curses.

“Don’t you dare die on me!” you shouted from the couch, trying to make sure Damian didn’t kill himself in your shower.

About ten minutes later, you were met with Damian, draping himself gracelessly over you, Damian’s damp hair was pressed into the crook of your neck. “Hello,” you greeted for the second time that morning. Before Damian could reply, you spoke again. “Did you use my shampoo?”

“It smelled like strawberries, I couldn’t help it, beloved,” he said into your neck, tangling his legs with yours.

“Smells nice on you. And is that my hoodie?” You moved one hand to run your fingers through his hair.

“Maybe.”

“Pink’s a good color on you,” you remarked sarcastically.

Damian hummed in response, and shifted so that he could kiss you, with his arms on either side of your head. He gave you several short pecks on the lips. “Marry me,” he mumbled, his face hovering over yours.

“I’m not that insane,” you replied, smirking and moving your head up to give him another kiss.

“I’m serious,” he responded, but his phone started to ring. He moved one arm to pull it out of the pocket of his sweats. “It’s my father, beloved. I probably have to go,” he sighed.

“No,” you whined, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Stay.”

“Beloved, I-” he stopped when he saw your pout. “Fine,” he muttered. “But what if it’s serious?”

“Promise me you’ll stay,” you begged, kissing him once again.

“Beloved, it is getting increasingly difficult to say no to you,” Damian said, furrowing his brow.

“I can make it worth your while,” you giggled, popping a strawberry into your mouth.

“You’re too good for this world, beloved,” he chuckled, then pressed his lips onto yours in a heated kiss.

His arms returned to either side of your head as the kiss grew more passionate. Your hands were on his chest, and the kiss broke for him to hastily pull off the pink sweatshirt and t-shirt.

Your position changed slightly, and now Damian’s knees were on either side of your hips, and he had your arms pinned above your head.

His lips were rough against yours and he kissed you fiercely.

You and Damian were both too preoccupied to hear the soft thunk coming from your fireplace.

It wasn’t until Bruce loudly cleared his throat that you both turned to look. There he was, in the full Batman suit.

Damian jerked off of the couch, landing on the floor. You heard a string of arabic cursing before he collected himself. “H-hello, father!” he exclaimed, looking absolutely mortified, his face almost as pink as the sweatshirt he’d been wearing. “It’s a bit early for you to be out, isn’t it?” Damian tried, attempting to avoid Bruce’s interrogation.

“Damian, would you like to explain to me why you elected not to report back to the cave after patrol last night?” Bruce questioned, crossing his arms over his chest. “And explain to me what this is,” he continued, gesturing to the two of you in your disheveled state.

You were practically petrified. Having your adoptive father-figure walk in on you and his son making out was not a comfortable situation.

“Father I am nineteen. I might remind you that I’m an adult,” Damian argued.

Bruce sighed, looking as if he was making a decision. “Fine,” he grumbled. “I’m too young to be having grandchildren,” he muttered to himself, making your face go bright red. In another instant, he was gone.

“I should probably go, beloved,” Damian reasoned, getting up and starting to change into his uniform.

“Yeah, I guess,” you admitted, sighing in defeat and standing up.

“I’ll be back later tonight after patrol,” he told you, walking over and taking your hands in his.

“Just do one last thing and kiss me,” you replied, smiling gently.

He nodded and kissed you softly. “Just so you know, beloved, I was serious about marrying you.”

And before you knew it he was out your window and off to save the world.

Observation: Ants are the undersized badasses of the insect world. They may be tiny, but they have numbers and brutality and chemical warfare and they kick a heckload of ass.

Result 1: A vast number of small organisms are either afraid of or at least wary of ants.

Result 2: A vast number of small organisms have evolved babies that pretend to be ants while they are small and helpless.

Net result: Imagine a world where children and apex predators look pretty much the same.

BTS reaction to you wearing revealing clothes.

Seokjin: His mouth would instantly open the moment he saw you entering the room in nothing but an extremely tight high-waisted shorts that barely covered half a centimeter under your ass, and a top that was rather close to being a bra than an actual shirt. He thanked God that he was sitting; otherwise his legs would’ve failed him. He bit his lip, but as he noticed how suddenly quiet the other guys had become, they were uselessly trying to cover up the fact that they were staring at you; but their eyes would always return to your figure. His jaw clenched, blood boiling at the thought of someone other than him desiring you. He didn’t know if he should scold them or you for being so provocative around them. He opted for the latter, taking advantage of it as he dragged you to your room with dark eyes and a sly smirk. “You’re going to change those clothes right now” he muttered, but as you were starting to complain about it, he continued, pretending to check you out, “ah! I’ve got the perfect option for you!” and as he pulled you closer, firmly grabbing your waist with both hands, he leaned and whispered in your ear with a husky voice “how about… no clothes?” he playfully bit your earlobe as his hands started to wander off all over your body, and in no time those tiny pieces of clothing ended up on the floor, completely forgotten.

Originally posted by yoongichii

Yoongi: “what the actual fuck” he babbled to himself when he saw you sitting next to him in nothing but an extra-mini mini-skirt and a tightly fitting shirt that took his breath away for a second before he could force himself to look other way and looking at the other six guys in the room, he noticed how they were not exactly staring at your face. “Are you trying to kill us all today, sweetheart?” he would say in your ear, trying to hide the jealousy that had took control upon his entire being and sending shivers down your spine as he slowly placed his hand on your back and started to play with your bra strips, pulling and letting go. When you bit your lip as you stared at him, he would take no time in taking your hand and driving you to his room, where he could barely close the door before attacking your lips. “Come on, kitten, scream for me, let them know who you belong to” he said almost in a groan as his lips went to harshly suck in the sensitive skin on your neck, leaving marks that would remind everyone who was the only one who got to pleasure you.

Originally posted by miichan-shiota

Hoseok: the grimace that suddenly appeared on Hoseok’s face made everyone crack a laugh until they actually turned around to where he was staring and saw you confidently strutting towards where they were sitting, with a cleavage that was capable of causing more than one heart attack, making your high heels sound louder than what they should have. Hobi breathed in deeply, trying to control himself as he patted the free space on the couch next to him, and you obeyed, flashing everyone a stunning smile although probably no one saw it, rather too focused on… other parts… Hoseok noticed that too, and he wrapped his arms around you, burying your face in his chest and trying to cover you up, but stiffening when he felt your warm kisses over his shirt. “If you don’t stop now, baby girl, I might have to fuck you right here, right now” he teasingly whispered in your ear. The sly smirk that appeared on your face did nothing but force him to stand up and grab you by your wrist, dragging you to his room where he happily complied his promise.

Originally posted by jjeonguk

Namjoon: he didn’t actually show much of a reaction when he saw you in a dress that almost seemed undersized due to how much skin it showed. He was accustomed to seeing you in so much less that it didn’t strike in how provocative you were being until he saw the look in the other boys’ eyes. They were basically ripping your clothes off with in their minds and, goddamn it, they weren’t even trying to hide it. He honestly tried to tell himself that you were a grown up woman and you could wear whatever you wanted, but his overprotective side didn’t take long to overcome his common sense. His mind started to wander off to how he could punish you that night, but he couldn’t resist that long, so he just dragged you to the nearest room and made sure you screamed his name so loud that every person in the building could hear you. “Yeah, that’s right babe, scream a little louder for daddy” he whispered in your ear as he made sure you knew nobody else could pleasure you as he did.

Originally posted by omojinyounghobi

❀ Jimin: “damn kitty, I would hate to think you’re doing this on purpose” he playfully whispered in your ear as you sat next to him on the couch, closely followed by other six pair of eyes that seemed to find it impossible to stop staring at you and your little crop top that didn’t leave much for imagination. “Because then I might have to punish you for being such a naughty little girl” he continued, his husky, hoarse voice and his warm breathe so close to your skin sending shivers down your spine. “Punish me?” you innocently murmur in his ear, keeping up with his game, not minding the presence of the rest of the boys as he grabbed your ass in such a way that nobody could see, but they could probably figure it out from the way you bit your lip, pushing Jimin to the limit. “Excuse us” he could barely manage to voice as he desperately locked the door of his room before quickly pinning you to the wall and, as his hands wandered off all over your body, he whispered slowly in your ear “you’ve been such a bad girl, I’m gonna make sure you learn your lesson”.

Originally posted by amsimaria

✽ Taehyung: you would raise an eyebrow at him in the moment he took his shirt off. “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought we were having a ‘who can show more skin’ competition?” he said, mocking you and making the rest of the boys chuckle, but that didn’t make the lust that was evidently seeable on their eyes disappear as they checked you out, with you only wearing a tight low-waisted shorts and a little shirt that made it seem more like you were wearing a bikini than actual clothing. “Well, I could easily win that competition, you know” you whispered in his ear, making sure to teasingly play with the edge of your shorts as you innocently winked at him. That was enough for him. He shoved you into the nearest bedroom that luckily was his and aggressively threw you onto the bed, making sure you felt his prominent bulge pressing against you as he kissed your neck and said, his warm breathing crashing against your skin and making you crave more of his heavenly lips “you don’t even know how hard it was for me not fucking you right then and there, baby girl, you’re gonna have to pay for making me go through such difficulties”.

Originally posted by gwiyongie

✿ Jungkook: his lips would immediately turn into a firmly pressed thin line when he saw the way you were dressed, his blood boiling at how the other six boys were looking at you just like a depredator would look at his prey before jumping on it and feverishly devouring it, and saying that he hated it was a clear, giant understatement.  If looks could kill, he would’ve already killed each and every one of his group partners at least a dozen times, so he grabbed you by your shoulders before you could even sit and guided you to his bedroom, quickly shutting the door with a rough kick, making a loud noise that was drowned by your little moans as he pinned both your hands above your head and as he pressed you against the wall, he started to harshly suck on your neck, making sure to pay special attention to your sweet spot, the one that made you groan over and over again. “Do you like it, baby girl?” he would say as you were trying to grasp for air, his tongue working miracles over the juncture of your neck and your shoulder.  “Don’t forget it, I am the only one that can make you feel like this, princess, am I being clear?” he would finish his sentence with a soft nib at your neck, making you moan in response. A smirk would appear on his face as he made sure you completely understood his words throughout the night.

Originally posted by celinet7

So I have this headcannon that Damen has a lot of cats.

Cause he’s from this TOTALLY-NOT-GREECE Mediterranean place, and I’m pretty sure that, like actual Greece, it’s crawling in these pseudo-feral cats. Cats everwhere. Cats in temples. Cats climbing ruins. Cats sleeping in the Mediterranean sun. And they don’t have homes per-say….but they’re very people friendly.

And if Damen grew up in this open air palace….you just know that place was crawling with cats, cause cats go where they damn well please.

And since we all know that Damen is a giant softie, it’s a pretty good guess that he’s been low-key taking care of a bunch of them and sneaking them table scraps and letting them sleep in his bed with him since he was a tiny toddler.

Can’t you imagine? Little Damen gathering up a bunch of dinner scraps and feeding an ever growing population of abandoned kittens, to the horror of his nurses, who are pretty sure that those feral things are diseased, but every morning when she goes to wake him up, he has a room full of stray kittens?

One of playboy Damen’s many hookups getting distracted from sexy times by the sheer number of cats sleeping in Damen’s bed when he pulls back the covers and he’s like, not even mad cause yes they are his, and yes, they are so cute, and yes he has named every single one of them after heroes from epic poems. That tiny one there? That’s Ajax. He’s feirce.

Damen on campaign with Laurent in Prince’s Gambit giving Lauren’s table scraps to local strays, and Laurent being all confused about why they have picked up so many furry four legged camp followers. And why haven’t the mice and vermin attacked their food supplies? Are these two strange happenings related?

Years later, Damen sees a rat in Lauren’s chambers in Vere and is mad grossed out but Laurent is like “they’re a part of life, there’s nothing you can do about them” and Damen’s all “Just get a cat?” And Laurent is all ?????? So next time he comes Damen brings like 200 cats and releases them in the palace and Laurent is pissy until all the vermin disappear. Then he gets attached to a tiny, underweight, undersized black kitten and he realizes that cats are basically him in four legged form, and maybe that is why Damen is so good at putting up with his icy personality, cause he’s basically a human cat and Damen seems to love cats sooo…..

Yeah.
Cat-ptive Prince and Damen the Cat lover and Laurent the Basically-is-a-cat.

anonymous asked:

What's your opinion on wild-caught box turtles?

Originally posted by lorddino

All joking aside, I have problems with wild caught box turtles for several reasons:

1) Collecting turtles/tortoises from the wild can actually be a lot worse than taking other reptiles. It’s usually adult animals that are collected and because of their slow life history strategy it is extremely damaging to remove sexually mature adults from a turtle population. The negative effects aren’t always immediately obvious since turtles have such long lifespan, but one study found that removing only a handful of adult females from a small box turtle population could doom it to a slow but inevitable extinction.

2) There are plenty of captive bred box turtle hatchlings available for sale (and lots of unwanted adults in need of new homes) so there is no reason to take them out of the wild. A captive bred turtle will be much more friendly towards humans, less stressed in captivity, and less likely to harbor disease or parasites.

3) Unfortunately many (if not most) people who have box turtles as pets do not keep them anywhere close to correctly. Many end up in undersized aquariums without proper substrate, humidity, heat, or lighting. If a person takes the time to find a breeder and buy a captive bred turtle they are more likely to also put the time in to do some research on their care (whereas if they just find and keep a wild one it’s more likely to be seen as a disposable whim).

I’m not gonna say it’s never ok to take any animal out of the wild. Ecologically responsible, small-scale collection of super common species for which captive bred individuals are not available (a lot of amphibians like bull frogs, tiger salamanders, and most toads are like this) is perhaps not ideal but I don’t think it’s morally reprehensible either. But unless you’re collecting an invasive species like a red eared slider I think wild turtle/tortoise collecting is almost never ok simply because their populations are so vulnerable to it.

More than half of the world’s turtle/tortoise species are threatened with extinction in some way and collection for the pet trade is a huge threat to many species. We should avoid being part of that problem.

anonymous asked:

Apologies if you've been asked before, but i'm in love with your glutton knight concept and I was curious. Do you think there'd be any non-human ones? Often horses and occasionally even dogs wore armor when brought into battle, (I live near an armory museum so I've even seen some on elephants and the like) so i'm curious to know if it only affects humans !!

Nope! Becoming a glutton knight requires some form of intent. It’s not just magical contamination and armor that makes them what they are; the combination of duty, the doggedness in which they are trained to pursue their quarry, and the righteous aggression towards supernatural creatures all play into what REALLY makes a glutton knight: their preternatural thirst for magical blood.

Which isn’t to say that animal armor doesn’t become part of a knight at times. Glutton knights will shed irreparably damaged, undersized, or otherwise unsuitable armor like hermit crabs and replace it with whatever metal they can find. Those not driven by vanity (or maybe just with weird fashion sense) may make…odd…choices.

An older knight known only as Kerberos is known for incorporating the helms of its fallen steeds into its armor, for example, and even mutating around them to form false ‘heads’. It’s not the only knight to undergo pronounced bestial changes due to deliberate choice in animal-themed armor.

Making a foam wig head bigger for better styling!

Most cosplayers know that store bought wig heads are usually undersized. Like, really undersized. So after getting fairly frustrated while trying to style a ponytail wig or two on a too small foam head, I decided to add to mine so they match my head circumference. The end product assumes you have the ability to sew, but you can also finish with a tape-only version if you so wish.

Keep reading

cparvum  asked:

I'm curious if you know about a kind of rpg I don't really know how to search for. I'm thinking of something with larger than life, powerful characters doing incredibly mundane things. Dragon slaying heroes who have accounting jobs and worry about bills, or better yet DRAGONS who have accounting jobs and worry about bills. Something about people who could level city blocks but are more concerned with avoiding awkward social situations and keeping their crappy undersized car alive.

The previously discussed (note: two separate links) Chuubo’s Marvelous Wish-Granting Engine has probably the largest potential out of any game I’ve ever played for the size of gulf between the power level of the characters and the scale of the action. As the linked posts describe, the basic premise is that it’s about young gods growing up in a pastoral small town; owing to the complexity of character creation, it’s typically played using supplied pregens, among whose ranks you’ll encounter:

  • The eponymous Chuubo, the Wishing Boy, whose Wish-Granting Engine is quite literally omnipotent, though his wishes are typically along the lines of “I wish I had an ice cream cone” or “I wish I were a seagull”.
  • Leonardo de Montreal, Nightmares’ Angel, who once sacrificed his own heart in order to kindle a new Sun into the sky, and who now mostly uses his incomparable command of nightmare science to impress teenagers.
  • Miramie Mesmer, the Dream-Witch, who assembled herself from the broken shards of a defeated world-devouring god-monster, and whose greatest ambition is to own a tea shop.
  • Natalia Koutolika, the Prodigy, a human child whose peerless martial arts could strike down God Himself, and who spends most of her time angsting about the fact that she doesn’t have any friends.
  • Jasper Irinka, the Child of the Sun, a primordial god of Hope who’s trying the humanity thing on for size (she’s almost gotten the hang of this whole “sneezing” business).
  • Entropy II, the actual, literal God of Evil, who serves as principal of the local high school (and also moonlights as a mysterious vigilante, except there’s no actual crime, so he mostly spends his nights fixing potholes).

Other notables include a cosmic blasphemy from beyond space and time who accidentally became a dorky teenage boy and decided he liked it better that way, a straight-up mythological hero, and an ogre whose strength is axiomatically infinite (she teaches social studies).

Basically all of them are grotesquely overpowered even by tabletop RPG standards - several are capable of working miracles that affect the entire observable universe - and a lot of the fun comes from trying to apply those skills to problems that wouldn’t be out of place in a typical high school dating sim. The staggering disconnect between the scale of action you’re capable of and your actual forum for action leads gameplay in some fascinating directions.

Guy Talk

Our favorite males just hanging out, drinking.  Read the rest of my Nessian crap:  Part 1Part 2Part 3.


Cassian braced his forearm against the table and stretched his other hand out, making grabbing motions in the air.  Rhys slid the bottle and a glass over to him.  He poured a thumb’s length, swirled it, and inhaled.  The rich aroma filled his nose and he took a sip, rolling it in his mouth before swallowing.  It burned a fiery trail down his throat, spreading heat through his stomach.  Leaning back in his chair, he held the glass up to the waning light, studying the color.  “That’s some good shit.  Where you been hiding this?”

His brother was leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, rubbing his temples.  “Under my bed.”

Cassian snorted.  “Under your bed?”  

“How the hell else was I going to keep it from Mor?”

“Good point.”  They sat in silence for a while, sipping their drinks, wings extended, soaking in the last of the warmth as the sun dropped behind the rooftops and faelights bloomed out around them.  “What the hell am I doing?” he finally asked, almost under his breath as he leaned forward and rested his face on his arms.

Rhys crossed his arms , dropped his chin on his chest, and looked at him, just a touch of humor playing around his mouth.  “You’re a glutton for pain, brother.  This is just another battlefield and you’re going to keep throwing yourself in there and damn the consequences.”

Ah, well, he couldn’t argue with that.  Neither of them even looked up as Azriel dropped out of the air, landed lightly on the roof, and stalked over to pour himself a drink.  He slumped into another chair, and eyed the other two.  “So I take it things went well,” he said drily.  “No mates tonight?”  He took a sip of his drink and raised the glass, squinting at it.  “This is nice.  Where did it come from?”

“Under his bed,” Cassian replied.  Azriel just nodded in response, as if that was a logical source of high-quality, and no doubt very expensive, spirits.  “And I’m sitting here drinking because of my so-called mate.”  He sat up again and rubbed a broad hand up the back of his neck, ruffling his hair.  “The camp tour went better than expected, actually, except for that one prick you already took care of,” he expanded.  It was true.  Not only had they found Sabine and Brisa to help with female integration among the warriors, but the new camp lords were all managing to introduce the policies Rhys had laid out with relatively little grumbling.  One advantage of being able to hand-pick people, he supposed.  “Now we just have to win over the rest of them.  Which means visiting more of them.  Which is also why I’m sitting here drinking.”

Rhys rustled his wings.  “How’d it go with the two you and Mor picked up for me?”  Cassian felt a twinge of guilt.  He’d forgotten Mor had brought the female here in all the chaos that he and Nesta had landed in at that second camp.  While he had been recruiting Sabine and Brisa, Rhys had gone ahead to straighten out the shitstorm that had arisen.  A veteran from the war had taken exception to a female who was training with Siphons and had beaten him in what was supposed to be a friendly target competition.  He’d waited until she was returning to her tent that night and attacked her with a knife, nearly severing the main muscle on her left wing before her screams brought the rest of the camp.  The warlord had thrown the prick in the holding cell where he had sat for two days awaiting the High Lord’s arrival.  Rhys, in a cold rage after seeing the female’s condition, had nearly misted him on sight but fatigue of bloodshed had stayed his hand.  Instead, he’d called in Azriel to mete out the shadowsinger’s version of justice.  This had caused a near-brawl between the old guard who thought the warrior had been well within his rights and the younger generation who wanted him to pay for his crimes, one that only fear of Rhys’ power had kept from turning into slaughter until Cassian and Nesta had dropped into the middle of it.  The sight of the Commander who had fought so valiantly in the war snarling at them, Siphons flaring, had finally subdued the protest from the older camp males but there was still tension.  

Azriel’s cold face remained impassive but he didn’t try to keep the hatred from his voice or his shadows from curling around him as he told them what he’d done.  How the male had protested that no bitch was going to be able to hold up under the pressure of battle, that they should all be clipped so they could breed more male warriors whether they wanted to or not.  How he’d used Truth-Teller to create the same injuries the male had inflicted on the female, then dumped him in the middle of the mountains.  If he made it to a camp, he could call in a healer.  Otherwise…  “But the female is doing fairly well.  The camp healer did a good job getting her stabilized.  Mor said they should be able to save the wing.  But I’m not sure how it’ll affect recruitment for that camp.”  It was a good point.  Other females may be reluctant to join after the assault.

“Hopefully they’ll remember that the other members of the camp stepped in and stopped him before he did more,” Rhys said, “and realize that we won’t tolerate abuse of any recruit, male or female.”  The other two nodded and fell back into silence.  Cassian tipped back the last of his drink and reached for the bottle again, pouring himself a more generous measure.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Lucien emerged then pulled up short.  “I didn’t realize you were back.  Is this little gathering open to people without wings?”

“Yes,” Rhys replied, “as long as you’ve got a cock and balls.  We’re mate-free tonight.”

Cassian snorted, eyeing Lucien.  “Not sure you qualify, Fox Boy.”

Lucien just grinned.  “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

“Now, now,” Azriel interjected, “that sort of thing should be done behind closed doors.”  Cassian shrugged and held the bottle out to Lucien.  Rhys procured a glass, and Lucien poured his drink and sat, an amused glint still evident in his russet eye.

“What’s eating you?” he asked, gesturing with his chin at Cassian.  

“It’s more a question of who’s not,” Azriel murmured.  Cassian shot him a glare while Rhys and Lucien chuckled.  

“Trouble in paradise?” Lucien asked innocently.

Cassian bristled at the red-headed male.  It was one thing for his brothers to tease him, but this sly new member of the court hadn’t earned the right.  “Shouldn’t you be taking care of your own mate?”

“I already did,” Lucien replied smoothly, “then came up here for some fresh air.  I hadn’t realized I’d just be choking on testosterone and frustration.”  The three warriors stared at him for a second before roaring with laughter.  Rhys raised his empty glass at Lucien in a silent toast, then snagged himself a refill.  “No, seriously, were there problems on your trip?”

Rhys shook his head.  “Nothing more than the usual.  It’s not easy trying to bring an entire culture around.  But I agree it appears something is chafing my brother’s ass and I too would love to know what it is.”

“Other than his undersized pants?”

Cassian shot Lucien a look while he decided what to say.  “Well, you might not know but Nesta and I…”

“We know,” chorused the other three males.  “By the Cauldron, we know,” Lucien added under his breath.

“Right,” he said, feeling oddly self-conscious, “well, when we were flying to the camp that first day Nesta may have suggested that we try something new.  In the air.”

Azriel inhaled his sip of liquor and started sputtering and coughing, and Rhys got up and went over to clap him on the back.  Lucien sat up straighter, rubbing his chin.  “I’d never thought of that.”

“Of what?” Cassian snapped.

“That you guys could do that.  It certainly would add variety.”

Rhys gave him a knowing look.  “It’s surprisingly challenging, though.”

Cassian and Azriel gaped at him.  “You’ve done it?”

Rhys snorted.  “Of course.  Are you honestly telling me in the past five centuries you guys haven’t?”

“Not until now,” Cassian replied while Azriel shook his head.  “Wait, have you done it with Feyre?”

“Well, no.  Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“An oversight,” he said with a shrug.  “One I must rectify immediately, come to mention it.”

“Just don’t do it anywhere Nesta might see you,” Cassian warned.

Lucien was leaning back in his chair, watching them with a smirk.  “I have never been jealous of the wings until this exact moment.”

“Don’t get me started on you,” Cassian warned.  “You should be more cognizant of the fact that family members might be flying overhead the next time you have Elain go down on you up here in broad daylight.”

Rhys and Azriel both started and looked to Lucien, eyes narrowed, but Lucien was utterly unembarrassed.  “Cognizant?”

“Yeah, it means -“

“Oh, I know what it means,” he interrupted, smile broadening, “I just had no idea you could string so many syllables together.  I’m impressed.  And will take that under advisement.”

Cassian shook his head.  “Just be glad I didn’t have Nesta with me.  Or Feyre.  And you should be jealous of the wings,” he said, as he slowly stretched them to their full span, “for lots of reasons.”

Azriel cleared his throat.  “So what happened?”  Returning them to more pressing matters.

“Well, first I dropped her -“

What?”

“I caught her again!”  Defensively.  “And then we figured it out and it was…perfect.  Well, not perfect, it’s really hard to control your altitude when things are happening, but you get it.  Then afterwards, it seemed like that…barrier she holds was coming down, you know?  Like I was going to finally be able to, I don’t know, really reach her through the bond.  But as soon as she realized that she froze me out again, and it just hasn’t been the same.”

Rhys was looking at him with an incredulous expression as he said, “What the hell are you two usually doing? We could hear you all over the camps!  You’re worse than Feyre and I ever were!”

“That is so not true, you did not have to live with you when you first got together,” Cassian snapped. Rhys looked vaguely puzzled while he tried to untangle that.  Lucien looked slightly ill.  “Besides, that’s not even what I mean.  It’s just, I thought she was finally going to accept me, the bond, but now…It’s never going to happen.”  His voice was forlorn.  Rhys and Az exchanged looks, not sure what to say.  Silence fell for a few minutes, broken only by a clink of glass against the table as Lucien set down his drink.

He leaned forward, fingers splayed across his knees.  “Let me get this straight.  You are talking about an Archeron sister.”  Cassian nodded.  “The most, er, challenging of all the Archeron sisters.”  Cassian bristled at this characterization of his mate but Lucien continued, oblivious.  “You’re complaining to Rhysand and I, who are mated to the other Archeron sisters, about the difficulty of establishing the bond.  When both of our mates were in love with other males when we met them.  Hell, they were both engaged!  Rhys had to put Feyre back together when she basically wanted to die before she could recognize the bond, and I had to try to build a relationship with Elain when she had had her heart broken by Graysen and was completely traumatized by the Cauldron and terrified of her visions.  I had to make myself leave when I wanted nothing more than to stay, so she could have enough breathing room to start to heal.  We did everything we could to be a stabilizing force for them, to figure out what they needed when they couldn’t or wouldn’t tell us.”  Lucien was breathing heavily, golden skin flushed, russet eye hard.  “But after you and Nesta saved each other in the war, you walked away from her.  You promised her you would fight for her, then you walked away and more or less ignored her for months.  And you expect it to be easy?  She can barely let her own sisters see who she really is, and they’ve always been there for her.  You expect her to just drop her barriers and welcome you on in?”

The three Illyrians were staring at him, mouths agape, identical expressions of pure shock on their faces at the outburst.  He stood up and leaned across the table at Cassian, snarling, the most aggressive expression any of them had ever seen on his face.  “Buck up.  Get over yourself.  She’s willing to let you in her bed, accept that miracle for what it is and be patient.  Figure out what she needs and stop thinking about what you want.  Don’t run again or you’ll never get another chance.”

He turned to head back downstairs to Elain, shaking his head, muttering something under his breath.

“What was that?” Cassian challenged, recovering his voice.  Lucien stiffened and turned slowly.

“I said, ‘Cauldron boil me, how the hell are you not still a virgin?’” he half-yelled across the rooftop.  He turned back again to come face-to-face with Feyre.  She seemed to be warring between anxiety and amusement at the lot of them.  “I’m not sure you’re allowed up here,” he said to her, “unless you can use your shape-shifting to grow…never mind.”  He pushed past her and went down the stairs.

Feyre shook her head as she approached the males still seated around the table.  Cassian was opening and closing his mouth but nothing was coming out.  “Lucien got your tongue?” she asked innocently.  He just stood, shook his head, and launched into the air.  She turned to her mate.  “What the hell are you guys doing up here?”  She spotted the nearly empty bottle on the table.  “Besides drinking all the good liquor.”

The two remaining males broke down into helpless laughter.  “Cassian just had his ass handed to him by Fox Boy,” Rhys gasped out.

“That was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” Azriel added.

Rhys stood, gathering Feyre in his arms and kissed the top of her head.  “I have a new project for us,” he said into her hair.  She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned into him.  

“Okay.  I’m tired though, can we just go to bed?”

He chuckled and pulled away a little, putting an arm around her shoulders.  “Of course.  Just remind me to tell you in the morning.  ’Night, brother.”

Azriel nodded in response and spread his wings.  “Cognizant,” he said to himself, shaking his head, and shot into the sky before wheeling towards the House of Wind.  

“What was all that really about?”  Feyre asked.

“Cassian was feeling sorry for himself and Lucien wasn’t having it.  You Archeron sisters.  You’re going to be the death of us.”  He squeezed her shoulders and planted a kiss below her ear.  “And our salvation.”  She leaned into him and they looked up at the night sky, lost in the starscape above them, lost in the depth of their bond.

anonymous asked:

So it's not only that ks has a beautiful thighs and butt. He also cute without even trying, he likes to be pampered, and also he is clingy. Yet people complain when fic writers write ks this way. They want the "manly and buff daddy u.u" ks. Which is probably something ks isn't.

LOLz that’s why i’ve been calling them hypocrites. these people are too obsessed with ks masculinity to the point they would use arguments that contain bottom shaming or basically putting feminine boys in bad light. it’s ughlee and really detestable.

imo, ks has certain traits that can be considered to be ~traditionally feminine~ (mm bet some of y’all are triggered right after your brain decipher ks + ‘feminine’ being associated together, better read it ‘til the end) such as;  

- he likes/is good at cooking* (remember when he cooked for the entire filming staffs in 2015? remember how he cooked in vlive?),

- good at cleaning* (ji said in radio interview ks folded his shirts before and jd admitted ks nags a lot about hygiene/cleanliness in their dorm),

*cooking and cleaning are basic requirements to stay alive tbh, don’t get why these stuffs are considered ~feminine~ but i include them here to match the current society standard™

- many people have said he’s caring, as in “mother-like” (remember he used to be referred as the “mom” of the group during 2012~2013? even ji called ks “mama” before. funny that thing suddenly stopped after some rumors surfaced… also, remember that japanese dance group talked about meeting exo backstage and how caring ks is cuz ks basically handed them lunch boxes?),

Q: “how does ji call you (ks)?”

A: “ks-hyung” and “mama*”

i know mama in kr means “your highness” but during this period ks was often being called as the “mom of the group (e x o - k)”, so it makes more sense to interpret mama as mother. 

- he does pilates which is an exercise that’s popular among women instead of men, because it tones your lower limbs (such as thighs and buttocks) and increases your flexibility. plus it’s kinda similar to yoga and we know yoga is also popular among women. 

some might argue that he does this for comeback (like bbh has said in their vlive, but then again, if so, why others aren’t doing it?) or for his upcoming movie (the movie is gonna be filmed in sept.. it’s too early to prepare. ks started training for hyung when the filming began.) imo he’s doing this for personal reason.

- he once helped around at his mom’s salon (he even said he had thought of becoming a stylist. there’s pic of him styling osh hair) which means he has some skills/knowledge about stuffs like this. he often carries that vaseline lipbalm as well. anyway, this one isn’t necessarily traditionally feminine trait/character imo, but ppl who deal/care about things like this are mostly women (it’s just like the pilates thingy).

- like you’ve mentioned; he likes to be pampered (his boyfriend ji said it himself that ks is “駄々っ子” (read: dadakko) which literally means “spoiled child” or “pampered child” and if it’s translated to korean it has similar meaning to aegyo–as in someone who behaves cutely like a child), contrasting the ~traditional masculine~ trait where men are expected to pamper their partner.

- and he’s clingy (which he had admitted by himself during pure love interview and even ji kinda confirmed this one by saying ks is similar to koala bc ks clings on ji)

all of these traits do not make ks less than a man. im really tired of these people (particularly his stans–and this is coming from a ks biased person. although there are some of ji stans who are like this too because “ji is the cute one!! uwu”, not saying ji isn’t cute ofc, he can be adorable as well just like ks.. still, it’s not a valid reason to argue/get mad about ks being portrayed as a soft & smol boy™ bc it has no correlation. you know what’s funny? ks has never called ji cute. it’s always ji who calls/compliments him with that word. ks has called/complimented ji as “cool”, “handsome”, “sexy”, “has the best body”, “most mature member” but never cute. anyways.)

it’s really aggravating seeing them bitching about ks being portrayed in the ways that have been mentioned above because it ~effeminate~ him!! uwu, even though those things are still part of him. it makes me questioning them tbh; are they ashamed that their fave has those particular traits?

also, his body description. i rmmber back then in 2015~2016 some people were legit triggered if you say ks is smol or tiny or short or has narrow shoulders. this makes no sense whatsoever…. bc that’s just basically how his body is. why people are getting mad over this shit? jesus christ. 

i still remember people argued over his and ji’s hand sizes. it’s obvious ks’ hand is slightly smaller (pics)…. honestly, why ppl even fought over this dumbshit. god. 

if we compare him with those tall members ks is smaller/shorter (and he’s def shorter than the official height SM published + he often wears shoes with thick soles that prob elevate his height to become 5~7 cm taller), and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.

there’s nothing wrong with a guy being small or undersize (he even admitted this by himself during ‘hyung’ interview; “im undersized so i had to exercise to fit the role, although now the muscles are gone”). and there’s nothing wrong for a guy liking/doing stuffs that are considered to be ~traditionally feminine~.  

if you find such thing to be offensive, it’s your problem. if you dislike there’s a possibility for your faves to not be able to fulfill your macho/masc/hetero bs standard, you’re the problematic one. 

honestly, this topic reminds me of the phrase; “masculinity is such a fragile concept”. i thought it’s only str8 men who get triggered when their masculinity is endangered but turns out some girlies have this sorta mindset too. sad. 

it’s kinda ironic cuz ks once wore that shirt with “gender equality” written on the front area (which i assume he supports the idea behind the mssg) yet some of his stans love to spew out words that are basically bottomshaming and/or degrading fem! boy. they also seem to be so overly crazy (and highly aggressive) with the idea of ks being masculine/dom. it’s a bit…..yikes. no wonder ks only shows his aegyo/soft side to his closest ones lulz.

anyways, y’all who think “men being associated with femininity (such as being complimented as pretty/beautiful/soft/curvy) = insult” are just plain bizarre to me….and unlikable. if you’re one of those people, please stay away from me and my blog. just pretend that im dead or something. block me.

p.s: im not proud that i remember all of those stuffs (the interviews etc)… they just… sorta…. stuck in my head.  also, wow this is a long answer. somehow i feel like im gonna regret answering this cuz the topic seems to be sensitive… oh well. 

p.p.s: dks is a beautiful, adorable, smol and clingy soft boy who loves to be pampered/spoiled by his boyfie (kji) and there’s nothing your crusty ass can do to change it. literally not-a-thing. not even sending h8 anons to my inbox can change it. 

if your feelings are scratched by my words, please contact my lawyer here;
1-800-go-cry-me-a-river

anonymous asked:

Weird question but would Julian wear sweaters? If so what kind?

Yes, he has one (1) sweater Portia knit for him. It was a bit too small to begin with because she ran out of yarn, and he outgrew it ages ago so now it’s comically undersized on top of being old and ratty, but it’s only gotten more comfy over the years and you’ll never convince him to get rid of it.

oelesp  asked:

Hi, I saw you were taking request so I hopes you could draw 1 or 2 or my characters ? Maybe Nadège Knight and Agnel Thaler, or one of my Undertale characters or others (You can see them on my Tumblr or Artfight profile). I'm sorry if you wanted specific request (and if you don't do it, can you tell me at least ?). Whatever you do, have a nice day ('v')/

 i drew ur papaya hes rly cute

anonymous asked:

i have a trope prompt: tony stark and getting bullied??

(I…warped this and threw in Peter. I apologize).

Tony blinks. “Peter, where the hell did that shiner come from? You’re supposed to give me a full report every time Spider Man engages.”

Peter ducks his head bashfully. “It’s not…it’s not because of Spider Man.”

Tony stares at him. “Then it’s…” Did the kid get mugged? Take up a sport? Did May…Tony shakes his head. That’s ridiculous.

“At school, one of Flash’s friends, uh…they don’t usually get physical, so it’s not that big a deal, but…”

It all clicks for Tony then. “It’s a big deal,” he says firmly. “It’s a very big deal, kid, do not tell me some asshats bullying you isn’t a big deal.”

Peter pinkens, an interesting effect with the purple eye. “Mr. Stark, no, really, it’s normal, and I…”

“Bullying is never acceptable,” Tony says.

“How would you know?” Peter snaps. “You don’t have to…you didn’t…”

Tony chuckles dryly. “Peter, I know you, like, think I’m the coolest thing since sliced bread, but you seriously over-estimate me if you think a kid four years younger than everyone else and too nerdy to keep his mouth shut and interact properly didn’t get the crap kicked out of him on occasion. Even if it wasn’t physical–I did sometimes have bodyguards–all the rest of it, that was there. I was the undersized nerd baby, a great target.” Tony feels the rush of distant memories. “Their favorite was pretending they were accepting me, then laughing when I fell for it.”

“That’s…awful,” Peter says.

Tony shrugs. “It happened, I survived. The point is, it’s not okay.”

“What did you do?” Peter asks.

Took it, Tony thinks, because he had no other option. His Dad had no sympathy, his mother no sway. He couldn’t get the mocking “poor little rich boy” expression from administration anymore.

At MIT, Rhodey was a good buffer, but he couldn’t deal with everything and Tony didn’t want him to. Really, the best solution was to get rich and famous and show the world the iron facade.

But Peter doesn’t have to take that approach. Tony feels sick, thinking of this kid with an iron press smile,

“How ‘bout getting picked up by Iron Man tomorrow?” He asks. “Star intern, all that. Let them see who’s backing you up. You point them out, I scare ‘em into submission with my stare.”

Peter looks torn momentarily–likely, Tony thinks, knowing the kid, between the desperate need for help and the desire to fight his own battles–before he nods.

“And Peter?” Tony says, making sure he has the kids full attention. “I’ll give them a talking-to tomorrow, but if they cross any sort of line again, you go to the school. And if they don’t do anything, you go to the police, okay? No one gets away with this.”

“It’s…just high school,” Peter mumbles, staring at the ground.

“It’s a crime,” Tony says. “I think you have enough to worry about without it. Like, speaking of, how you’re going to integrate Karen into these goggles. Chop-chop, Peter.”

The task seems to put Peter’s mind at ease, which is good, because Tony has a speech to plot, readying to put the fear of Iron Man into some bullies.

Height: 5’2”
Hometown: Riverside, Calif.
Twitter: @CandiceLeRae

Candice LeRae is tougher than you.

The slogan on this indie scene standout’s T-shirt may as well be her personal battle cry. A relatively undersized brawler who could convincingly cosplay as Elsa from “Frozen,” LeRae prides herself on her ability to endure punishment and keep on fighting. The fact that she has gone to war against heavyweights like Cesaro and Kevin Owens, and is the only woman to ever win a championship in the male-dominated Pro Wrestling Guerilla, speaks volumes about her tenacity.

Inspired by charismatic underdogs like Chris Jericho and Shawn Michaels, this modern-day Mighty Mouse is willing to take whatever risk necessary to pull off a victory. So, a few words of advice to the other competitors in the Mae Young Classic: If you want to win it all, you better be tougher than Candice LeRae.