utterly absurd

The fun thing about the Persona franchise is that you don’t even have to take things out of context to make them sound utterly absurd. Like, if I said “your first quest is to help a talking cat steal your gym teacher’s soul”, normally you’d assume I was being flippant, but that’s actually a complete, accurate, and in no way misleading description of what happens.

English language imperialism is truly ridiculous and I don’t think native English speakers realize how much their language encroaches on everyone else.

Let me give an example. I am kinda job hunting, not seriously but I could do with a change if I can find something interesting and worthwhile. So I was browsing job adds.

You know how many were in English, just plain out all text in a foreign language? 1/3 or there about. Even for a freaking job as a cleaner? Seriously? And of course, the job application in all instances needs to be in English too.

And then we have all the million and one words in the “Danish” job adds that are English too. So many that yes Danish does need to be in quotation marks because often as little as a fourth of a job add is in Danish, all the rest is in English.

I would say that a good ¾ of all the job adds I’ve looked at in the past couple of weeks are more than 50% in English.

Serious? Seriously!

For jobs that often require little to no English in themselves. (And then we have all the jobs that demands really good English skills for completely and utterly arbitrary reasons.)

So while I am indeed good at English I’m tired of seeing my native tongue forcibly be shoved aside. I’m even more tired of seeing English speakers treat this as if non-natives are making a big fuss over nothing. 

Having your own language erased like this is not nothing.

Most reviewed fics (on ffnet):

As of March 2017

  1. Rebuilding by Colubrina - M, 300 chapters - Hermione Granger returns to Hogwarts to help rebuild the shattered castle the summer after the war. She and the other summer resident - and eventually their friends - have to come to terms with how the war broke more than just the walls of the building. Follows multiple Hogwarts students through ‘8th year’ and one additional year of early adulthood. COMPLETE.
  2. Isolation by Bex-chan - M, 48 chapters - He can’t leave the room. Her room. And it’s all the Order’s fault. Confined to a small space with only the Mudblood for company, something’s going to give. Maybe his sanity. Maybe not. “There,” she spat. “Now your Blood’s filthy too!” DM/HG. PostHBP.
  3. Like Brothers by Colubrina - T, ABANDONED - Minerva McGonagall steps in on the awful night the Potter are killed and arranges to have Harry Potter raised by Sirius Black and his somewhat cousins, the Malfoys. Draco and Harry grow up as almost brothers and everything - everything - is different. Gryffindor!Draco. Dramione. AU. I WILL NEVER AGAIN UPDATE THIS.
  4. The Wrong Strain by Colubrina - T, WIP - Everyone knew what veela were. Veela were magical creatures, breathtakingly beautiful, who captivated men with a single look. It would have been nice to have been that strain. Instead, Hermione Granger was infected by another. Instead of captivating all men, she was captivated by one. She’d die without him. She was already in almost constant pain. DRAMIONE.
  5. Turncoat by elizayeM, 101 chapters - Switching sides. “I have only one condition, and I trust it won’t be hard for you to meet. I want Granger.” Rated M for sex/language/torture.
  6. The Prank War by CrazyGirl47 - T, ABANDONED - Now that Voldemort is dead, Harry and company are enjoying their last year of school by taking part in a timehonored Hogwarts tradition: the seventh year prank war. Edited and reposted. First brand new chapter now updated!
  7. The Bracelet by AkashaTheKitty - M, 103 chapters - Hermione has everything she could possibly want… Except a life. People are getting sick of her superior attitude, especially Draco Malfoy, who schemes to get her down, once and for all. And then there’s the thing with The Bracelet… 7th year AR. COMPLETE SINCE 2009 XD
  8. Parenting Class by IcyPanther -T, 38 chapters - Complete DHr & HG Sixth years at Hogwarts are now required to take a parenting class, what fun! Hermione, Draco, and Harry are paired up in which they’ll trade off being children. Can they live through the class or will being a parent prove too hard?
  9. Simply Irresistible by bookworm1993 - T, 30 chapters - Draco gave a cocky grin. “I am going to give you a makeover.” “I’m sorry what?” “You heard me Granger, I’m going to give you a makeover that will make every man want you,and make Weasley die of regret. You will be simply irresistible.”
  10. Eros & Psyche by RZZMG - M, WIP - Draco challenges Harry and friends to play EROS & PSYCHE, a scandalous card game with a dark, mysterious history. It’s Slyth vs. Gryff, male vs. female, pride vs. desire in the ultimate game of hearts and amour! Pairings: Draco/Hermione,Blaise/Ginny,Ron/Pansy,Seamus/Lavender,Theo/Daphne,Harry/Tracey. AU 7th yr. Secrets, romance, angst, and sex await the turning of the first card…
  11. Presque Toujours Pur by ShayaLonnie - M, 38 chapters - Bellatrix’s torture of Hermione uncovers a long-kept secret. The young witch learns her true origins in a story that shows the beginning and end of the Wizarding wars as Hermione learns about her biological father and the blood magic he dabbled in that will control her future.
  12. The Bespoke Witch by glitterally - M, 80 chapters - Hermione is offered a war-stake by Dumbledore. She ignorantly accepts the beautiful scroll only to find she has thereby agreed to become Wife to the House of Malfoy. An on-the-go education by Minerva, Molly, and Astoria ensues as Hermione enters formal courtship by Draco and Lucius. Utterly absurd and a tad naughty. AU, OOC. Utter tripe.
  13. Broken by inadaze22 - M, 36 chapters - He felt something close to pity for the woman in front of him. And while that disturbed Draco to no end, what really disgusted him most of all was the harrowing fact that someone or something had broken Hermione Granger’s spirit beyond recognition.
  14. Hermione Malfoy by superscar - M, 20 chapters reviewsAt the request of Dumbledore, Hermione Granger marries Draco Malfoy. COMPLETED
  15. A Marriage Most Convenient by AnneM.Oliver - M, 54 chapters - Hermione lost it all when she divorced. Draco would lose it all by age 30 if he didn’t marry. Marriage to each other would be perfect, one would even say it was most convenient. Her daughter even looked like him, although, he wondered why that was.
  16. We Learned the Sea by luckei1 - T, 37 chapters - Draco Malfoy turns himself in after a very successful career as a Death Eater, then enlists Harry and Hermione to help him in a scheme to bring down the Dark Lord. DHr. A story of forgiveness.
  17. Revenge Is All The Sweeter by Twilight to Midnight - M, 24 chapters - A marriage law has come to pass; an unfaithful boyfriend has been caught and an enemy has been chosen. Draco and Hermione discover the fine line between love and hate. Won 2nd place at the Dramione awards for best Draco and best action/adventure!
  18. The Green Girl by Colubrina -T, 22 chapters - Hermione is sorted into Slytherin; how will things play out differently when the brains of the Golden Trio has different friends? AU. Darkish Dramione. COMPLETE.
  19. The Alkahest by Shadukiam - M, WIP - The Marriage Law, once enacted, has the power to destroy Hermione’s perfectly normal life. Luckily, she and Ron are already planning to obey the horrific law together as a team… Until a Malfoy-shaped wrench gets thrown into the works. Dramione. Cover by littleneko1923 (thank you!).
  20. Scales and a Tail by Halfling - M, ABANDONED - Unfinished. The Scales is a secret Slytherin society within Hogwarts. Its male only policy must change for an upcoming event, and Draco grudgingly recruits Hermione. This choice contributes to something more important than imagined.
One Last Try (Gaston x Reader)

Part 2 of “Another Look Around”

Originally posted by good-gay-sherlock

Word Count: 2,123

Warnings: None

Tags: @with-a-hint-of-pesto-aioli @lovelylpevensie

A/N: Ok wow so the amount of love on my last post was incredible. Really. You got no idea. I never expected such a positive response to my first ever Tumblr fanfic, so THANK YOU TO ALL THE LOVELY SMOLS WHO LIKED/COMMENTED/REBLOGGED. YA’LL MADE MY DAY. Originally I had no plan to continue this story, buuuut…after several requests, I present to you, part 2 *dramatic overture*

  You waited with bated breath until the sound of Gaston’s boots on the stone stairs had receded into silence before allowing yourself to draw air. With a gasp, you wiped a hand across your forehead and pushed yourself off the door.

   Belle was still staring at you in befuddlement. She placed the loaf of bread in her hand on the table, then mounted her hand on her hip. “Honestly, (Y/N), what’s gotten into you? You’re face looks like a tomato.”

   “Does it?” you panted, raising your palms to feel the heat in your cheeks. You giggled breathlessly for no reason. As hard as you tried, you couldn’t seem to stop yourself from smiling.

   “Wait a minute…” Belle began suspiciously, moving towards you. “Was that Gaston that you were talking to?”

  You swallowed, dropping your arms to your sides. Belle gasped loudly. “It was, wasn’t it!” Looking completely aghast, she rushed forward, gripping your shoulders and looking you directly in the eyes. “Tell me what happened. Every bit of it.”

   With much difficulty, you were finally able to force your lips out of their grinning state, returning Belle’s gaze. Your heart was still relentlessly thudding against your chest, and you covered her hands with your own as you admitted rather timidly, “Oh, Belle you’re going to kill me.”

   Her eyes bugged. “Did he propose?”

   You raised an eyebrow and said, “When does he not?”

   “You didn’t say yes!”

   “No, of course not!”

   “Then what happened?”

   You bit your lip. “Well, he asked to have dinner.”

   “And you said yes?!”

   You frowned. “No.” Then you paused before adding, “But I didn’t necessarily say no either.”

   Belle threw her hands up and sighed. “Well if it wasn’t a yes or a no, then what was it?”

   “I don’t know! I guess it was a maybe, we’ll see.”

  Belle’s face said it all: she couldn’t believe the words that she was hearing. How could she? You and her had spent many days in the past mimicking some of Gaston’s most ridiculous lines and gestures. Belle would imitate his voice and stick an imaginary bouquet in your face while you clutched your stomach and nearly fell backwards laughing. You would make her choke on giggles by miming his smirk and wiggling your eyebrows. You had spent some of the merriest times in your friendship joking about Gaston and his infatuation with you. No wonder it was shocking for her to now hear you say that you had practically accepted a dinner date from him.  

   “Are you insane?” she finally squeaked. You wiped your sweaty hands on your skirt. “Probably,” you muttered back, stepping past her to the table and tearing off a chunk of bread from the large baguette. You popped it in your mouth as Belle began pacing across the room.

   “But - I don’t understand, (Y/N). You’ve always said that Gaston was wasting his breath with you. That he was utterly absurd and you would sooner court Madam Roux’s old tabby cat. Besides, you know what he’s like! He’s rude, and conceited and -”

   “Belle,” you interrupted. She froze where she was and looked at you. “Hold still before you wear a hole in the floor.”

  She exhaled exasperatedly and crossed her arms almost sulkily. “I just don’t understand what’s gotten into you,” she mumbled.

    You pursed your lips and raised your hands in a clueless gesture. “Neither do I.” The smile began to return as you continued, “I wouldn’t be able to explain it if I wanted to. There was just something different this time. For a moment, I was looking into his eyes and I actually think I saw..”


   “Well, something along the lines of sincerity.”

   Belle scoffed. “Oh, I don’t doubt that he’s sincere. Sincerely full of himself.”

  You tossed her a disapproving look and shot back, “No one’s without their good qualities, Belle. Besides…I think there’s more to him than meets the eye.”

   Belle faced you with a stern expression. “You honestly think that there’s a chance that Gaston is a decent man underneath all of his peacock feathers?”

   You grinned at her and answered, “Call me crazy if you like.”

  Your best friend shook her head. “You’re completely crazy,” she lamented before snatching the baguette, ripping off a large piece and stuffing it in her mouth.

   The rest of the day dragged by uneventfully.

  You’d left Belle’s after eating a large lunch, then headed straight to your own house. After running the rest of your errands and taking a long bath afterwards, the jitters in your stomach had begun to grow.

  Essentially, you were meeting Gaston tonight. You were walking straight into the thing that you’d been trying to avoid for the past four years, but instead of dread, you felt only nervous excitement.

    Your earlier encounter with Gaston had undeniably changed something in your mind. Thinking of him - his looks, his voice, or even just his name - gave you a new feeling that you weren’t familiar with. It made your stomach tighten, but in a good way. It made your breath catch in your throat and your thoughts go fuzzy. Right at the moment, you weren’t sure if you liked it. But there was no going back now.

   The sun had reduced to a formless lake of burning orange hanging on the horizon by the time you left home for the final time that day. The skies to the west were a deep, silky navy dusted with stars, and the full moon was proudly standing out against backdrop. Villeneuve’s streets were lit with flickering lamps, and the amount of people milling about them was dramatically reduced due to the impending night.

   The tavern was only a three minute walk from your neighborhood, and your heart thumped a little quicker with every step you took. Every stride carried you closer to a night that would either live in your memory as a nightmare…or a dream.

   Well, you thought as the bar came into view, here goes nothing. Inhaling shakily, swishing your skirt out behind you and blinking a few times to clear your mind, you finally pushed through the door.

  The smell of ale and smoke dropped over your senses in an intoxicating veil. The light inside the tavern was dim and golden, and though the noise was jarring, an odd sense of calm settled in your stomach upon entering, soothing the nerves.

   Without wasting a moment, you weaved your way around the boisterous crowd to the bar, where you spotted the familiar face of Louisa as she filled two heavy metal steins with beer. She happened to glance up as you made your way to her, and she gave a startled smile.

   “(Y/N)! What brings you to this neck of the woods?” She questioned, sliding the full mugs to the end of the bar. You returned her smile as you leaned against the counter. “Girl can’t get a drink in this town?” you joked. Louisa cocked an eyebrow, reaching for another mug as she replied, “Last I knew you weren’t exactly a frequent to our fine establishment, dearie.”

    You traced circles in the wooden tabletop with your fingernail, saying, “Well, you’re right, I’m not. Just needed a change in scenery for once.”

   Liar, liar, a little voice inside you sung. You shook it away as if it were a pesky insect.

  “Now that I can understand,” Louisa said before placing the mug in front of you. “Careful now. This stuff’s strong enough to make steam come outta your ears.” You laughed lightly and thanked her, wrapping a hand around the cup. You then turned and leaned your back against the bar, taking a sip of the alcohol and letting your eyes wander casually around the packed pub.

   You nearly choked on the beer as your gaze snagged on one man in particular who was sitting near the roaring fire with his friend, LeFou at his side.

   Gaston reclined in his chair with his legs spread and his arms draped lazily over the armrests. His position caused his shirt to strain over his muscled chest, and his head was tilted to the side, a bored expression on his face.

   Until his eyes caught yours.

   You swallowed not-so-subtly.

   He blinked, a surprised smile flitting onto his face as he smacked LeFou on the arm, who nearly tumbled off his own chair before he too noticed you. “(Y/N)!” he welcomed loudly over the noise, beaming happily. The momentary lull of anxiety vanished, and your pulse shot back to a dangerous pace.

    Since there was no way to escape him now that he’d caught sight of you - and since you didn’t feeling like leaving either - you knocked back one more gulp of beer, thinking that you’d need it, then placed it on the counter.

   Your palms were sweaty as you stepped away from the bar and slowly worked your way around the many tables and bodies. You could feel Gaston’s gaze on you the whole time. When you finally navigated your way to him, you watched as his chest rose with what could either be an inhale, or pride. He shifted his shoulders.

   “(Y/N),” he greeted, almost savoring the sound of you name on his tongue. “You came.”

    “I’m a woman of my word, Gaston.”

  His smile deepened to a smirk, and he straightened up as he said, “Well, it’s a great pleasure to see you again.” You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. “I’m sure it is,” you returned sarcastically. By this point Gaston had risen from his seat and advanced towards you until you stood separated by two feet at the most. Your heart flipped as his eyes briefly scanned your form before returning to your face. He then extended his hand and offered smoothly, “Drinks are on LeFou.”

   Despite your insides being a mess of butterflies, you couldn’t help but laugh. You took Gaston’s hand and asked, “Does he know that?” Gaston made a face that said who knows? and replied, “He won’t mind.” He flashed you a winning smile and then, his fingers laced through yours, led you to one of the only empty tables on the opposite side of the place. He politely gestured for you to sit first, then called towards the bar, “Louisa! Another round for the most beautiful girl in town!”

   You suppressed a blush as Gaston sat down backwards on the bench next to you so that his back and elbows rested against the table, enabling him to face you. “You weren’t kidding about saving the flattery for this evening, were you?” you teased.

   Gaston gave a short, low laugh and answered, “I’m a man of my word, dear (Y/N).”

  You continued the small talk until Louisa arrived with two more beers for each of you. She gave you a sly smile before returning to the bar, which you tried to ignore by quickly averting your eyes to the first stein.

   After several more minutes of chatting with Gaston, the rigidness started to melt off your body, and you relaxed, switching positions to straddle the bench and face him. Perhaps it was the alcohol, or maybe it was simply the ease of his company, but as the minutes wore on, a warm, electric feeling began to bloom in your stomach, working its way through your chest and into your head.

  You were unable to look away from his burning whisky eyes. You began to appreciate just how deeply attractive he was, and when you realized it, you didn’t try to banish the notion from your brain as usual. You let it linger, let it take over. You relished the sound of his rough voice and laugh, memorized every facial expression, every smug little grin, and even the slightest shift in his body language. Your body subconsciously drifted closer to his, feeling a strange need to be in some sort of physical contact. The most noticeable difference was that for once, he wasn’t trying to impress you or pepper you with compliments. For once, he was actually talking to you. Asking you about your family, your ambitions, and your daily activities. He remained flirtatious as always, but in a subdued and intimate way that was a hundred times more attractive than flowers and chocolates.

  If you’d been paying attention, you would’ve heard those little alarms in your head that warned you against falling for anything stupid. But it was too late. You were in too deep, and though it was something you’d never dreamed of admitting to yourself, all you wanted to do was stay trapped in this moment with Gaston, legs brushing, his arm extended behind you on the table, his fingers casually twisting a strand of your hair, and his eyes looking so deep into yours that you imagined he must be able to read your every thought.

   This was it. This was his second chance. One last try at winning your affections. One last try at achieving the ultimate goal. One try at earning your love slowly and purposefully the way it deserved to be earned. And as the hours dwindled away, Gaston could somehow sense that it was working.

(This prompt is from thisisthestuffthatilike, and comes in at a whopping 1k: “new human!Cas discovering that he’s attracted to men and then like blatantly bringing it up with the boys and Sammy is all tactful and scientific and Dean probably chokes on whatever he’s eating or drinking.” This isn’t…quite that. But it’s kinda/sorta close. Features ABSURDLY OBLIVIOUS AND JEALOUS!DEAN for your pleasure. This references S10 but presumes human!Cas? IDK, just handwave.) 

Tucked in a rundown bar about a half hour outside of Lebanon, Cas accepts the beer that Dean offers and says, before Dean has even had a chance to reclaim his seat, “I believe I’m attracted to men.”

Sam coughs mid-swallow but nods in a way that could only be construed as encouraging. He visibly struggles to keep his expression neutral, even smiles a little. Dean, however, spews beer all over the table.

“Cas, you don’t just say shit like that,” he grumbles, and quickly looks around them, to see if anyone heard. Thankfully, no heads have turned in their direction. 

Cas scowls at him, cups his hands around his beer, and asks with irritation, “Why not?”

“It’s just…it’s not the sort of thing you say when you’re out with the guys.”

“Would you mind if I talked about women?” he snaps, and for reasons Dean doesn’t want to contemplate, Sam looks smug. He locks his eyes on Dean, tilts his head, and quirks an eyebrow.

“That’s a good question, Cas,” Sam compliments. “Don’t you think that’s a good question, Dean?”

“If I’m not allowed to talk about this with you,” Cas says in a quieter tone, though no less gruff, “then who am I supposed to discuss it with?”

“Dean’s being a jerk,” Sam offers consolingly. “You can talk to us about anything.”

“Fine,” Dean concedes through a sigh. “Alright. What’s got you thinking this way?”

“I don’t want to talk about this with you if you’re only going to make fun of me.”

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose. “Look, man, I swear I won’t make fun of you. And sorry about my reaction, okay? You just caught me off guard.”

“Well,” Cas begins, looking at the table. “I’m experiencing strong physical reactions in the presence of a certain person.”

Dean stares at him between his fingers. “You’re seeing someone?” he accuses. Cas wets his lips.

“No,” he says. “At least, I don’t think so.”

Keep reading

DAY 3365

Malta                      June 14,  2017               Wed 8:50 PM local time 

Birthday - Ef Sejal Shah …   Ef Sunita Roy      
 Thu, June 15 .. and it is time to celebrate the birthday’s of two of our Ef’s .. may you both have a wonderful June 15th .. with love and wishes from all the Ef  …

And another gruelling day comes to an end on the sets of ‘Thugs of Hindostan’, the labour of great effort by production, on a film that has immense detailing and needing the efforts of several professionals in their respective fields ..

Most commendable to find the kind of management that today’s film productions go through .. the clarity of the work, timings, preparations and the execution to the dot .. most impressive and deserving laudatory reactions ..

And as I sit to run through the day in the mind, needing to respond to the social media, to the Ef in all their finery and art, one of the picture librarians amongst us sends a picture :

This be the Filmfare Awards night and the Best Actor trophy going to Sanjeev Kumar, for the film ‘Aandhi’ .. and yours truly invited to present it to him ..

The Filmfare Awards were the only award event in the film industry at the time .. it was still the property of Bennett Coleman, editored by Mr Karanjia , and the concept and event idea coming from senior heads at Times of India ..

Unlike the times of today where the results are announced, with some amount of dramatic uncertainty, much like the Oscars, the Filmfare Award was then a predetermined and announced winners list .. 

So the winners were announced almost a month in advance by the magazine .. the process being one of some kind of judgement by the paper themselves, or perhaps a jury system .. Sanjeev Kumar was adjudged Best Actor .. 

It was the year that ‘Deewar’ was also in the running, and barring yours truly, all the others connected with the film were rewarded ..

I was  personae non grater for the entire media world then, particularly for the film media, because for some reason, it was understood and believed that the Press Ban brought about during the time of the Emergency in the country, and it was during those times, the person responsible for it was ME .. an utterly nonsensical and absurd accusation - much like the hundreds of others that I have had to face through out my existence so far - and therefore acknowledging that fact, the entire media banned me ..

Nothing was ever printed or written about me .. no coverage of any of my films or my works .. and no pictures if I was to attend a function. The photographers would put down their cameras on the platform where I stood and so long as I was there, they protested and never took a single photograph .. if there were to be a credit title description of a film .. for eg., say ‘Nastik’ .. it would be Hema Malini, (,) and Pran .. I was the comma in the film and so on ..

When the media banned me, I felt I should ban them too, which I did .. so no media was allowed on my sets, I gave no interviews and never met any journalists .. this went on for several years .. I think almost 15 years .. until the moment when I relented .. I relented when one of the leading magazines that had religiously refused to carry any information or write up or mention, wrote a most sympathetic and compassionate piece in their magazine .. I was surprised of course, but did not reject it either .. it was the time when I had had my ‘Coolie’ accident and was in the Breach Candy Hospital .. when I came out recovered, I did seek an appointment with the Editor and owner of the magazine and asked why he had done what he did, despite the ban ..

In his most forthright and honest manner he said .. “we were upset and annoyed with you, because of what you had done to the media, and we wanted you to fail .. but we did not want you to die .. and so we wrote this piece when you recovered” ..

It was an emotional moment and from then on we have been the normal best as before ..

But then I have digressed ..  not without reason .. the Filmfare Award was a page out of this ban .. not giving me recognition for ‘Deewar’, was fine by me .. whether it rode the theory of the ban or not does not bother me .. Hari Bhai, Sanjeev Kumar was an exceptional artist, a dear friend, and the vote of the jury was to be accepted .. 

I have often countered that moment with my own assessment and stated on many an occasion, even at a Filmfare event, that not giving recognition for ‘Deewar’ was perfectly acceptable, because, I argued, if Filmfare did not give Dilip Kumar the Best Actor for ‘Gunga Jamuna’, his best ever performance according to me, then ..’mai kis khet ki mooli hoon’ ..

Anyway, in those days the surprise element unlike today, was not who won .. that was out a month before .. the surprise element would be who is going to present the Award !

During the time of the media and press ban, my films ironically, were the biggest hits, and so in a sense giving acceptance to that, Filmfare invited me to the Award function, and announced me to give the Best Actor Award to Sanjiv Kumar .. many commentators of the time and rival media when talking to me, expressed opinion that the move was to deliberately humiliate me by performing this deed .. I have never given any credence to this opinion and never paid any attention to it .. 

But in all fairness I must mention here, that soon after the event was over, the next day I did get a letter from the Editor, Mr Karanjia who generously thanked me for attending the function despite the media ban, and acknowledged the fact, in his own words .. ‘despite all else, you did get the largest applause of the evening’ !! 

To me that was my award  .. 

Award functions and events are a gracious evening of recognition of talent ..

They are also a funny business  .. 

If some one rewards me in recognition of my work, I shall accept them, most humbly, with grace .. if they do not, I shall equally and in all humility accept their decision ..

After all …

‘Man ka ho toh achcha .. na ho toh zyaada achcha”!


Amitabh Bachchan

Confession:  I’m going to be utterly pissed if Cerberus gets shoehorned into Andromeda. They are by far the most cancerous thing in the Mass Effect canon. The story has to bend over backwards to provide the organization with endless freebies in order to make them a threat. Despite making up only a tiny fraction of the weakest Council race (economically and militarily speaking) they’re somehow able to pull fleets right out of their ass, wage war on multiple fronts, take control of the Terminus, and even  launch attacks on the Citadel and a secret military base on fucking Sur'Kesh. This is like treating the IRA as a group that could simultaneously take on the USA, Russia, China and the EU. It’s utterly absurd. If the Terminus could be so easily screwed around with, the Turians could have conquered the region by themselves centuries ago. Using Reaper tech as a crutch can only get you so far. Fleets are still insanely expensive to produce, no matter how many colonists you indoctrinate. And the most infuriating part is just how ridiculously prominent they are in the series. They’re in all three games, three of the four novels, four of the five comic series, and they’re even in the Paragon Lost movie. It’s like they’re the personal pet character of one of the writers and he insists on shoving them into everything. It’s just sickening to me that a frankly uninteresting group of terrorists has been given more focus and development than most of the alien races or even Earth itself.

Birthdays in a traffic jam

Title: Birthdays in a traffic jam

Fandom: OMGCheckplease

Pairing: Larissa Lardo Duan / Shitty Knight

Rating: PG-13 (for language)

Word count: 3320

Part 3 of The Shitty and Lardo Chronicles.  Also on AO3

The problem is traffic.

The problem is it’s four in the afternoon and everyone and their mother is out thinking that they’ve escaped early enough to avoid the home time traffic.  The problem is someone up ahead is honking angrily every three seconds.  The problem is some people can’t blare a horn politely.

The problem is they’re in a traffic jam.

The problem is Lardo’s in labour.

“I’m gonna have this baby in the car.”

Shitty looks calm and composed.  His eyes are focused on the unmoving traffic ahead and his knees aren’t bouncing but you’ve only to look at the bone white knuckle grip he has on the steering wheel and his twitching moustache to see that he feels otherwise.  That despite how he looks he is very aware of the active labour going on beside him and he is shitting himself.

The wheel leather squeaks under his hands.

“My darling, my queen, my reason for living,” he takes a thin breath, “please don’t because I don’t know how to deliver a fucking baby.”

Lardo flinches despite his even tone and her eyes flit to the rear view to check the backseat but of course it’s empty.  Xuan is not bouncing impatiently in her car seat because she’s at Dex and Nursey’s probably drinking too much sugary juice and watching cartoons that are slightly too old for her.  Shitty can swear all he likes now that they’re sponge of a two-year-old isn’t around. Truthfully Lardo wants to swear too but someone in this vehicle has to have their shit together.

She thought she had more time.


Keep reading

dreamfar628  asked:

If you're still doing the prompts could you please do wrist + Nobuyuki?😶

  • Nobuyuki + Wrist (desire/lust)

“Are you trying to seduce someone, Lord Yukimura?”

She says it with so little forethought and insight into the mind of his dear brother, he’ll have to snort in amusement. So sudden will it burst forth, like a gale of wind from his chest, he won’t have enough time to catch the sound against his sleeve before it travels across the breeze to where they are huddled. 

“Milord, have you heard?” she calls out. “Your brother has a lady crush.”

Of course he does, but how she hasn’t recognised it escapes him. It’s not that he thinks her dumb, quite the contrary, but one would have to be a little thick in the head not to notice how his brother’s mood oscillates between extremes thanks to a girl with eyes so big and true he himself risks falling into them.

“I’m sure my brother has been very subtle in his bid to win her hand.” He’ll give Yukimura a pointed look, stopping beside him. Calm down, it says, she doesn’t know.

She flashes them a toothy smile, and the strangest sensation will flood him. A low and sultry warmth pushes against his skin. He suddenly understands why Yukimura acts the fool around her. It’s that smile, he concludes. It’s a very lovely smile, without a trace of guile, so forward and bright he feels an itch in his fingers to reach out and curl his hand around her hair. How utterly absurd, he thinks a moment later, and the disappointing lack of restraint he shows will irk him.

“Perhaps we can help. Show your brother how to woo her off her feet.“

“And what would you suggest, my dear?” 

Damn. Too forward. Her brows arch. She noticed.

“A demonstration,” she says, after a meaningful pause. “Look alive, Lord Yukimura. This is for your benefit.”

He has but the space of a heartbeat to catch on before she reaches out for something, and then he doesn’t know what to think because his mind will have suddenly fled for the heat that jolts and curls around his fingers. He looks down and sees it’s her hand around his wrist and, dear god, he can’t be thinking this but, oh, how he wishes she would just step closer and engulf him.

“So Lord Yukimura, you see how I’ve grasped your brother? This is what you do next.”

And for all of Yukimura’s embarrassed wheezing, it’s nothing compared to the fierce hunger crashing through him in that moment. As she turns towards him and gazes into his eyes, his body will feel like it’s shedding years of musty cobwebs to become moist and dewy.

She tugs at his hand then, playfully, until it goes slack and she lifts it, with great care, letting it hang in the air between them.

“Milord, excuse me,” she says softly, breath tickling his fingers.

His poor, dear, fool of a brother will look at them with such conflict it will make him feel like a bully when he’s alone in his room later. But right now, with so much heat coiling around him, there’s only his plonking heart and her lips pressing delicately into his wrist. Then her tongue flicks out, like a butterfly’s kiss, licking at his flesh. All the while her eyes stay locked on his, and he won’t believe what she shows him. She’ll let him see inside those big depths, past the sweetness and light and down and down into a chamber of flames and scathing desire; all consuming and wreaking havoc on his self-control, pulling him both ways until there’s nothing but fire, fire everywhere, in her eyes, his eyes, all around them. He knows he should run, yet he wants nothing more than to be strangled by the chains keeping her shadows at bay.

Then it’s gone. All of it. So suddenly he sucks in a rush of air, hand falling innocently to his side.

There will be a moment too long between them, a crackle they share with their eyes, before she smiles that toothy smile and strolls off, chuckling at Yukimura and sending him a jovial wink.

The destruction she leaves behind devastates him. He won’t know what to say afterwards for the longest time, only that his heart will henceforth murmur the same thing every day to itself whenever he sees his brother: 

I’m in trouble.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.

Please forgive me.


Celaena awoke in her own bed, and knew there would be no more sedatives in her water.

There would be no more breakfast conversations with Nehemia, nor would there be any more lessons on the Wyrdmarks. There would be no more friends like her.

[…] Outside of this rotten, festering court and kingdom, the rest of the world had loved Nehemia. It was hard not to. Celaena had adored Nehemia from the moment she’d laid eyes on her, like they were twin souls who had at last found each other. A soul- friend. And now she was gone.

Celaena put a hand against her chest. How absurd— how utterly absurd and useless— that her heart still beat and Nehemia’s didn’t.

anonymous asked:

if freddie's louis' kid, dont you think that louis would talk ab the kid more and post more pics of him and just hang out around him more ? if he did that dont you think the larries would "shut up" , explain louis is the type of person who would cherish their child , he has so many siblings ffs

This isn’t some scientific theory where we’re the only observers.

Louis lives almost his entire life without us seeing it. He managed to keep his mother’s sickness a secret as well as all the hospital visits he took with her for almost an entire year. Does that mean she never existed? Cheryl has not been seen for MONTHS does that mean we can assume she’s not real anymore? HARRY WAS PRIVATE ALMOST THE WHOLE OF LAST YEAR. Yet we know he existed, right? We know people spoke to him, right? We know he went to studios, right? We know he was in Jamaica for ages on and off, right? Yet we saw almost NONE of that.

He has no obligation for you to see him with his son for you to accept he exists and that he sees him. That’s an absurd irrational mindset that others have brainwashed into you because I 100% assure you that you have never looked at anyone else’s life in that way. I refuse to believe you suspect people have fake babies if you don’t see them enough publicly.

He has a birth certificate. Nobody fakes a baby. It has never happened in all of entertainment history. The fact that you can accept that as a premise to start with shows that you’re not looking for logic, you’re seeking irrationality. No normal person would ever accept a man has to fake a baby. 

He’s a 15 month old toddler. You have believed in this ridiculous premise for over 2 years AND IT HAS TAKEN YOU NOWHERE. Imagine if I had told you 2 years ago you’d still be at the same point. That nothing had changed. Would past you think Babygate were logical or illogical then? Would the you from 2 years ago find it pathetic that a person could still be insisting a baby didn’t exist 2 years later? 

If you decide just this week to believe Freddie is Louis’s son, what would change? Do you think it’ll alter anything for Freddie or Louis? Yet you think your disbelief is a necessary thing for a concept that hasn’t changed in 2 years…? Do you get how silly that is? You act like not believing in it is so hugely important to you, yet it’s not changed a single fucking thing in Louis’s life. 

So if you’d believed Freddie was his son back 2 years ago when Briana got pregnant, what would have changed for you in the last 2 years?

Your mentality is broken. You won’t believe a birth certificate is real or that a man can see his child when you’re not around BECAUSE YOU’RE LITERALLY NEVER AROUND HIM, yet you believe leaping into the void of Fake Baby Contracts is reasonable. Don’t you see how utterly absurd it is you’re prepared to believe something ridiculous with ZERO verifiable proof (like a government document, a history of fake babies in Hollywood, a history of slave fake baby contracts, anyone around him saying “Louis is faking a baby”, etc) yet you won’t accept an actual government document and the words out of people’s own mouths and the fact that a real living breathing baby who also looks just like him exists? 

It isn’t reasonable, you’re wrong, will always be wrong, and in 2 years we can meet back here and we can ask you again if you’ve gained anything from 2 more years of denial or not. It’s never changing. 

anonymous asked:

Some good moderately long happy dramione fics you could read while you're trying to have a chill weekend alone at home?

I tried to go with completed stories here, but some long-ish happy Dramione fics I love are:

Sex Ed By: MrBenzedrine - M - Hermione Granger comes to Hogwarts to teach a much needed Biology curriculum to the students. Draco Malfoy, the Potions teacher, doesn’t approve of the sex ed. A bet ensues. Who will come out victorious? Rated M for lemons. COMPLETE.

The Bespoke Witch By: glitterally -M-Hermione is offered a war-stake by Dumbledore. She ignorantly accepts the beautiful scroll only to find she has thereby agreed to become Wife to the House of Malfoy. An on-the-go education by Minerva, Molly, and Astoria ensues as Hermione enters formal courtship by Draco and Lucius. Utterly absurd and a tad naughty. AU, OOC. Utter tripe.

(note: Bespoke Witch also contains Lucius/Hermione, and at nearly 400,000 words, it’s definitely more long than moderately long)

The Green Girl By: Colubrina -T- Hermione is sorted into Slytherin; how will things play out differently when the brains of the Golden Trio has different friends? AU. Darkish Dramione. COMPLETE.

Out of Hand By: relativelypositive -M- She was only trying to shock Ron. She didn’t mean for it to go any further. Instead, she made a faux pas that turned Hogwarts upside down. 6th Year AU. Dramione.

Animal Instincts By: gnrkrystle -M- Five years after Hogwarts, Hermione and Draco are thrown together after a certain ‘Malfoy trait’ kicks in and Draco needs Hermione’s help.

Unbreakable By: cleotheo When Hermione Granger gets pregnant in school she refuses to name the father of her unborn child to the Professors or her friends. Draco Malfoy knows the child is his and he’s busy planning on getting him, Hermione and their child safely away from his father, who is determined to make Draco take the dark mark and join the Death Eaters.

Original Sin By: RZZMG -M- M.L.E. Officer Hermione Granger receives a note to come to Malfoy Manor to prevent her charge, Draco Malfoy, from breaking the terms of his probation. The note claims Draco is an unregistered Animagus & he’s trapped himself in animal form, unable to reverse the spell. He needs her help! 2013 HP-Porninthesun entry. Dramione.

Happy reading! 


Female space marine scouts

Because the idea that there can be no female space marines seems utterly absurd, naturally I’m going to have to make some just to troll all the neck beards.

I’m almost certainly going to purchase Shadow War so I’ll probably convert the scouts. Any idea where I can purchase suitable head swaps?

Ikuhara's Episode Commentary:
14: "The Boys of the Black Rose"

I saw a certain horror movie when I was in middle school. There was a secret mortuary in an underground chamber, and the dead were electronically transmitted (!), still in their coffins, to the “other world,” where they were forced into slavery.

The movie’s story was utterly absurd, but the division of the world into opposite poles of “living” and “dead” felt real to me, somehow.

Our world has been spoken of in bipolar fashion for ages.

In my student days, there was a popular book that compared the “affluent” with the “non-affluent,” and sorted everything into categories called “loaded” and “broke.” It was the bubble era, and the aim of the book was probably to get a laugh by saying “They call us wealthy, but our lifestyle’s practically in the trash can!”

But for some reason, I couldn’t laugh.

Years later, the phrase “the winning side” was popular in the media. I thought it was horrid. And sure enough, people started using the opposite phrase “the losing side” as a masochistic joke. I still couldn’t laugh, though.

One day, a girl I saw on TV said, “There are only two types of people in this world: the ones who are chosen and the ones who aren’t chosen.”

That gave me a start.

“To not be chosen is to die,” said the girl.

I decided to try my hand at that.

The Black Rose arc.

It’s a fact, though, that since I first saw you I have made you, in an utterly absurd way, I expect, my ideal. I’m almost ashamed to tell you what lengths I’ve gone to. It’s become the thing that matters most in my life. Without knowing you, except that you’re beautiful, and all that, I’ve come to believe that we’re in some sort of agreement; that we’re after something together; that we see something…I’ve got into the habit of imagining you; I’m always thinking what you’d say or do; I walk along the street talking to you; I dream of you.
—  Virginia Woolf, Night And Day

anonymous asked:

I dont mean to sound ignorant I'm just genuenly confused right now. Wouldn't keeping refugees out of America help keep Americans safer from Isis? I have been hearing so many different things about this and I'm so confused. Could you help me understand more about what trump is doing?

Targeting and defeating ISIS is important…of course it is. Anyone would agree that putting an end to terrorism is something that the US needs to focus on and that National Security is part of it. But the way Trump is deciding to do it is absolutely horrifying

Think of it this way: There are a LOT of Christians in the US, right? I would say out of all religions practiced in this country, Christianity wins the majority. There are so many different denominations and sectors of course but regardless, millions and millions of people fall under “Christianity” as their preferred religion. 

OK so then think about the KKK. The KKK, who are white supremacists and terrorists in their own right, usually identify as Christians, right? Now out of ALL the Christians in the United States, how many do you think are actually part of the KKK? Probably about .001%, if that 

So let’s say France had some awful attacks from KKK members over the past few years. And then because of that, they decide to ban every single Christian from the United States and Canada from entering their country. 

Not just that though. In addition ANY Christian who is visiting France will be deported immediately, and even people who are living in France with a valid Visa will be at risk for deportation. 

Sounds pretty unfair, right? The KKK are a hateful disgusting group of people and France feels like the best thing to do is group ALL Christians in with this small group of horrible and disgusting human beings??! That’s asinine!

NOW think about this: What if, in the United States, there was constantly civil war, poverty, death, destruction and terror? What if for hundreds of years, Christians and all American citizens alike, had been fleeing to France in order to save their families from all the horror they face in their homeland? What if there were thousands of children dying every single due to this ongoing warfare in America, and their safe place of freedom was France?

And now France says they can’t come there anymore because they might be Christian and if you are Christian you’re probably a member of the KKK and France needs to protect themselves from you, so you are forced to live your life in a country that you will most likely never survive in. 

Or what if you were born in America and fled to France, but because you are a Christian in France you now are being forced to fly back to your birth place and immerse yourself in the genocide? And maybe not just you, but your entire family also?

Or, what if you were originally from America but legally living in France and you took a trip to Italy, and you all of a sudden can’t get back to your home, your family, your job or your life because there is a ban on all people of your religion? So you are stuck in a foreign country with nothing and no one.

Oh, and let’s just say the President of France put ALL of this into effect on Holocaust Remembrance Day

Does that make more sense? You can’t call all Muslims terrorists just like you can’t call all Christians members of the KKK. You would never do that, right? I mean the thought of it just seems so utterly absurd. So why doesn’t it seem equally as baffling when we label all Muslims as ISIS?

That is what Donald Trump is doing to refugees. He is blatantly contradicting the exact thing America prides itself on. Being a place of freedom, safety and equality for all. The biggest and best melting pot in the world. A chance at a better life for those born into horrendous circumstances. A place where you can achieve the “American dream.” The country that everyone wants to be a part of. 

He has taken those titles from us. He has made us all elitist, racist, white supremacists by default through this ban and we are not going to stay silent and let the rest of the world think we are OK with him rebranding us that way. 

anonymous asked:

PROMPT: “I’m not wearing a dress.”

“I’m not wearing a dress.”

It doesn’t happen often, but Scully has reached her breaking point. She is angry enough to break something, angry enough to risk her job. She is angry enough to tell Skinner exactly how she feels.

“With all possible respect, sir, this is utterly absurd.” She knows that her face is flushed, because she feels the impossible heat rising to her hairline, making her scalp prickle. “Agent Mulder and I are not part of the Bureau mainstream. There is no earthly reason we need to be in attendance for some high ranking agent’s housewarming party.”

Skinner glowers at her, his expression more stern than usual. “Not some high ranking agent,” he reminds her. “The Director of the FBI.”

“I don’t care,” she replies, crossing her arms defiantly. “He won’t even know if we aren’t there.”

“Agent Scully,” Skinner’s voice takes on a warning tone. “This is not up for debate. Maybe he won’t know,” he concedes. “But I will – and I expect you to be there.”


Skinner stares at her incredulously. “Excuse me, Agent?”

Mulder has remained curiously silent throughout this unusual exchange, but now he clears his throat. “Hey,” he interjects softly, his hand grazing her elbow. “It’s no big deal. We can go.”

Scully closes her eyes, counts to three. When she opens them again, she feels no calmer. “I have work to do,” she icily informs Skinner. She rises to leave, and Skinner holds up a hand to halt her. “This isn’t over,” he grits.

Fuck this.

“Fine,” she snaps. “Write me up.”

With that, she storms out of the Assistant Director’s office, ignoring his demands for her to stop.

When Mulder finally catches up to her, she’s already off the elevator, stomping toward their basement office.

“Hey,” he calls, confusion lacing his voice. “Wait, Scully.”

She steps into their office and motions for him to do the same.

“What the hell happened back there, Scully?” His forehead creases in bewilderment. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she mumbles, leaning heavily against the door behind her. “He just pissed me off.”

“I gathered.” He nudges her shoulder playfully. “The thought of being my date for the evening is that awful, huh?” Placing a fingertip under her chin, he winks. “I promise to be on my best behavior. No alien talk. Not even a mention of Reese’s Pieces.”

Scully feels the last of her anger melting away, sadness replacing the previous emotion. “No,” she murmers, touching her fingers to his chest. “It isn’t that at all.” She takes a deep breath, pressing her lips together briefly before continuing. “It’s them.”


“Yes, them.” She flexes her fingers to keep them from touching his face. “The other agents. The – the people we used to work with.” She holds his gaze steadily, willing him to understand. “I could not care one iota less what they think of me, Mulder. But I see the way they look at you. I hear their snickers, their comments – and I cannot stand it.” She feels tears sting the backs of her eyelids, and swipes angrily at them with her sleeve. “You don’t deserve that, Mulder. You’re better than all of them.”

Mulder stares at her, a mingling of amazement and adoration dancing across his face.

“You – God, Scully.” His hands grasp hers, and he brings one to his face, pressing a kiss against her knuckles. “I don’t care what they think about me, either,” he tells her firmly. “I’m there with you, okay? Just you and me – always.”

She swallows hard, still unconvinced.

“It’ll be great,” he insists, drawing circles on her palm with his thumb. “We can keep to ourselves, eat up all their food, drink their champagne, and then – “ he leans into her ear and whispers conspiratorially  “ – we’ll go back to your place and have really hot, slightly drunk sex.”

At last, a smile plays at her lips. He beams with the knowledge that he’s the one who caused it. “Okay?”

“Okay,” she agrees reluctantly. “But I’m not wearing a dress.”

“Hey, me either.”

She slowly pulls her hand away, and he motions to the desk. “Finish this paperwork with me so we can get out of here?”

“Yeah.” She nods slowly. “Just give me five minutes. I think I owe Skinner an apology.”