will probably replace something from there

Dawning in Dust: Part V

Claire had always had a knack for compartmentalizing. Whether it was life after her parents’ death, being a nurse in the War, or her recent life as a solitary nomad, she could separate herself from feeling and fear to deal with the here and now. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and set to work.

Despite Claire, Jenny, and anyone else’s opinions on the matter, Jamie had flatly refused pain medications. The stare down between the two siblings was something to behold, but the results didn’t change. He asked for a towel to replace his pillow, a few drams from the farm’s whisky stock, and to be left alone while his back was tended to. Claire had averted eye contact, but caught the gist of the Gaelic arguments going back and forth from all four Scots. They didn’t trust her enough to leave her alone with him, despite the fact that Jamie could probably knock her flat even in his present condition.

“Is… something funny?”

Claire started, nearly dropping the scissors she was about to use to cut his shirt open.

“Don’t do that!” she scolded.

“Sorry,” Jamie replied, though the curve of his mouth suggested he found her quite amusing. “Ought I not be concerned that ye were smirkin’ whilst preparing to slit my shirt open?”

Claire gave him a look. “Oh, I was not ‘smirking’”.

“Aye. Ye were,” he retorted, eyes gleaming with mischief. Claire gave him a look, then smiled and shook her head.

“I think you may be drunk my lad,“ she rejoined, putting the scissors on the table and seeing his raised eyebrow. “Alright. I might have been,” she conceded, taking a knee by the camp bed and pulling a hair tie out of one of her pants pockets. “May I?” she asked, holding it up for him to see.

“No, I am'ne and aye, ye can,” he replied, resting his forehead on his arms so Claire could pull his hair out of the way.

Being caught up in the bantering, Claire didn’t realize how tense Jamie had been. She reached to gather his hair, expecting the warmth of his body this time, but not his reaction. It was as if he unconsciously melted into her touch; like every wave of his copper hair that passed through her fingers rid him of some burden he carried.

Claire could see his pulse beating in his neck, steady but fast; goose flesh rippled over his arms; she knew without looking that he’d closed his eyes. He looked so young and vulnerable and yet he trusted her, a complete stranger, to do this. Trust was a rare commodity these days. She swallowed, placing a hand on his arm again as a sudden wave of tenderness swept through her. He opened his eyes and looked at her, open and fathomless.

“Ready?” she whispered.

He continued to gaze at her for a moment longer before he nodded.

“Aye, Sassenach.”

Claire exhaled, gave his arm a light squeeze, and picked up the scissors again. Jenny had brought a stash of saline and had soaked Jamie’s shirt with it in order to make its removal easier. Claire hoped to trade for some before she left. The antibiotic ointments and fresh bandages were lined up and ready.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” she muttered, reaching for more saline.

Claire had hoped that the scabbing hadn’t fused with the shirt cloth but found her hopes dashed as she began to tug on the tattered pieces. Jamie’s skin tried to come up with his shirt. The extent of his injuries weren’t apparent while covered up but she could feel now how many lacerations he must have. Claire looked down, seeing that he was clutching the frame of the cot again. As if he sensed her, he opened his eyes to look at her again.

“Do what ye must. I’ll stand it,” he said gruffly, then shut his eyes again.

Claire pursed her lips, but went to grab more damp cloths from the hearth. Placing these by her other medicaments, she grabbed an end of shirt cloth and the saline bottle.

Alright Beauchamp. Squirt the saline underneath and pull the cloth. Stanch bleeding with the damp cloths. Assess. Clean. Disinfect. Possibly multiple times. Keep the wounds moist until scabbing shouldn’t result in infection. Now, how to do this on a large, pig-headed Scot who refused pain medication…

“This is a lovely place,” she said to try to distract him, selecting a bit of shirt that didn’t appear to stick as much.

Saline and pull, saline and pull..

“Aye,” Jamie muttered. “Aye it’s… been in my family since the 1700’s. Ancestral and all that. It’s a bonny place.”

“Mmm,” Claire agreed, pleased to see no bleeding from the first strip. “Are all your family fluent in Gaelic?”


Jamie’s forearms strained as Claire removed the next bit of shirt, taking most of the healed skin with it, but he made no sound.

"Aye,” he said after a moment, realizing the damp cloths Claire was dabbing him with wouldn’t hurt. “Since we were bairns.”

"That’s wonderful,” Claire replied, giving him a moment to recover. “Language is fascinating. Everything else may be shot to hell but people always find ways of communicating.”

"There are more ways than words to do that Sassenach,” the Scot responded dryly.

Claire wasn’t sure she heard him right but, looking down, saw one blue cat eye crinkled in amusement. She smiled and shrugged in assent, appalled to feel a blush creeping up her neck, but her mind returned to his back in the next instant.

God, what did they do?

"Alright. This is the worst part.”

He’d kept his gaze on her and nodded, gripping the cot tighter and setting his jaw.

Saline and pull, saline and pull…. Jamie’s breathing turned into hissing noises, but he still remained silent…. Saline and pull, saline and pull…. the muscles of his arms strained as he held on…

"Almost got it… keep still…” she breathed. Jamie responded with a huff of breath but continued to do as she asked.

Saline and pull, saline and pull…

"Done!“ Claire exclaimed triumphantly, grabbing for the last of the damp bandages to wipe the trickling blood away. Between the stress of removing the pieces of his shirt and the fire in the hearth, Claire felt her own perspiration make its way down her face and back. She wiped her forehead with her arm, then poured more saline on the cloths she’d put in place.

"Well done,” she said softly, bringing a cup of water for him to drink. “I need to clean and redress it, but that can wait a minute.”

"This isna whisky,” he said huskily, forming what he could of a smile. Claire noted the paleness of his face, but his eyes were still focused.

"I promise you’ll be fully rewarded later. Right now though,” Claire gave another Nurse Randall look, “I need you coherent.”

"Careful lass,” Jamie said as she stood. “A promise is a verra serious thing in the Highlands.”


The human body is a miraculous thing. So many connections and processes required for life to go on. Things seen and unseen that is the makeup of a person. Claire removed the cloths and gazed at Jamie’s back in fascinated horror.

"Bloody fucking hell..”

"Aye. It was.”

Jamie sniffed out an uncomfortable laugh, but the tension in his shoulders had returned. Claire took in his flayed skin, some wounds deep enough to cut the muscle underneath. How could he have stayed still like this, let alone ride a horse?


Claire jumped at her name, eyes snapping to Jamie’s. “What?”

"The uh, captain you encountered..” Jamie looked down then. “T'was him that flogged me.”

She nodded and blinked hard, then turned to her pack. He may have refused his sister’s medicines, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t kill him.

"Why were you flogged?” Claire asked, keeping her tone calm as she spread the topical lidocaine through the welts and blood on his back. It wouldn’t completely numb the area, but it would at least take the edge off.

Jamie made a Scottish noise. “Obstruction.”

"Obstruction? Does that exist now, with no one to enforce it?”

"It does if ye have the numbers to make it so.”

"And he does?” she asked, hoping the talk would at least distract from the first round of cleaning.

"Aye,” Jamie all but whispered, blue eyes staring straight ahead as Claire set to work.

"We served together in the Last War. Randall and me I mean,” he continued. “Near on four years ago now, they evacuated our companies from the mainland. I was… glad to come home, away from all of it.“

Claire felt a pang in her own heart at his words.

"Ye might not have noticed when ye arrived but we’ve many tenants near here. Small places that have been part of this land for generations. We didna have the old ways of collecting rents and pledging fealty but… we look after each other. The way it should be.”

"It sounds wonderful,” Claire replied softly, switching out a used cloth for a new one. “Are there many families?”

"Aye, a fair few. Not as many as there once was but-ah!”

"Sorry. This one’s very dirty.”

"S'fine,” Jamie hissed, burying his face into his forearm.

Claire glanced around for something else. “You still have lamps here. Old habits die hard?”

She saw Jamie smirk despite what she was doing to him.

"We’ve electricity.”

Claire stopped dead.


Jamie lifted his head and grinned at what must have been a flabbergasted face.

"Electricity. Dinna have it where you come from?”

"No one’s had electricity since the virus outbreak spread to the utility systems.”

"Well, this modest farm never tapped into the utility systems. We harvest it with old fashioned water power.”

"You’re kidding.”

"No, I’m not. If ye can patch me up, I can show ye tomorrow.”

"Nice try. You’re not moving from this bed for at least three days,” Claire replied, moving on to the next laceration.

Jamie gave a grunt of amusement, but silence soon followed as Claire continued her work. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but Claire felt a weight to it; it was as if something hung in the air that wasn’t quite tangible, but just within reach all the same.

"Why you?” she blurted. “Why did he come after you?”

“I wouldna give him what he wanted. He..” Jamie shook his head, as if to catch the right words. “It’s… personal. Wi’ him, I mean.”

Claire moved to the table to grab the antibiotic ointment. If the scars on this man’s back were any indication, “personal” was an understatement.

“What was it that he wanted?”

A moment passed. Claire thought Jamie was going to ignore her question, but felt him shift a little as he sighed. Exhaustion and sweat lined his body and, when he spoke, he sounded far away.

“Power. Respect. He demanded it, always. The thing he never understood was what it took to earn it.”

Sensing this was all he would say on the subject, Claire nodded, bending down again to smooth Jamie’s hair out of his face. Still pale, but eyes clear. He blinked blearily at her as she touched his cheek with the back of her hand. Slight fever.

“Rest now, hm? I’ll guard the whisky.”

One corner of Jamie’s mouth turned up and he nodded.

“I’ll hold ye to that, Sassenach.”

Claire chuckled, allowed her thumb one light caress of his cheekbone, then stood and covered his back with a light bandage. She’d have to redo the process again, but Jamie needed sleep first.

Claire turned to tell him so but looked down in time to see that his eyes had already closed and his lips were slightly parted in restorative sleep. Smiling to herself, she pulled a tartan blanket off the high backed chair near the head of the cot and laid it gently over him. Claire curled up into the chair, watching over him until fatigue dragged her under, forcing all thoughts and feelings blessedly from her mind.

Pretty sure I mentioned it before (or someone else did), but I’ll bring the idea of autistic!David back:

  • Camping/Camp Campbell is his special interest
  • Tends to try and help others enjoy his special interest as much as he does
  • Doesn’t fully realize the intent behind some of his actions; tends to act without realizing some of his actions could be offensive (doesn’t make them okay but this is actually a very common thing for certain autistic people, myself included. Again, explanation, not excuse.)
  • On a similar note, when he DOES realize his actions can be offensive, he tends to go overboard when doing his best NOT to be offensive
  • Very emotional/represses a lot of ‘negative’ emotions and replaces them with ‘positive’ emotions probably because being sad or angry is emotionally draining and one only has so many spoons to spare
  • Told to do something other than camping/take a break from camping, reaction is ‘what…should I do?’ as if he can’t really process doing things outside his comfort zone/special interest
  • Very naive and overly trusting (Again, I am like this myself. If someone tells me something and I have no reason to be suspicious of them, I’ll likely believe it)
  • Often seen as annoying by people who don’t….really….get it….
Gem Association Headcanons

I really love seeing definitions of gems and such in witchcraft, so I thought what of what gems each character would have (some are more of MCD however). Though, I might need to fix things here and there but this is what I have.

Zane - Zane would own an Apache Tear. In addition to good luck (something this dude doesn’t have), they are used to aid in overcoming bad feelings. Probably would keep it in a pocket. He may also own a Lepidolite, which helps numb stress and negative emotions. 

Vylad - He’d have a necklace with a Smokey Quartz, which are meant to rid of bad and dense vibes and replace them with cleaner and more joyful ones.

Aphmau - Amethyst. For sure. The purple gems are healers from before the Middle Ages, and are for healing the mind, soul, and body. (get it? cause she’s irene in mcd-) Would wear them as earrings. Not to mention they’re her favorite color. Also might own a Chrysocolla. It lifts and balances emotions, eases emotional heartache **cough cough** AARON **cough** , attracts love and sweet dreams

Katelyn (This one reminded me more of the MCD!Katelyn, when she was coming to Aph’s house to get information and such) - Katie would have a Flourite gem. Flourites help the mind and body in analyzing conditions and situations in a rational and non-emotional manner. It enables detachment of emotions from the mind so that the thought process can achieve a higher level of self-understanding.

Gene - Lapis Lazuli. Enhancing a sixth sense of gaining secret knowledge. Y'know, cause in MCD he can alter memories and probably could get someone to tell him something if he does it correctly…

Kawaii-Chan - KC would own multiple sugalite. It’s known as the symbol for universal love. Puts them on daily. (Earrings, clothes, bows)

Laurance - He’d keep a Unakite. They heal the soul and are guides to transformation and Higher Self. (You kind of have to look that up, it’s also known as the White Soul and stuff but I gotta try to stay on task yo)

Aaron- Garnet. The gem repels negativity (though we’ve seen it get to him anyways), gives courage and confidence, it builds a defensive aura around oneself, and guards against depression and melancholy. Or, a Bloodstone. Warrior stone for overcoming obstacles and calm ones fear of a real or perceived enemy.

Garroth - Oh boy this was hard. I feel like he’d own an Amazonite. They’re for centering oneself, and getting back to balance. Re-focus and stabilization. Probably more of something MCD S1!Garroth would own, though. 

Sasha- Clear Quartz. Gives the user psychic, ESP (extrasensory perception) and mediumship (the connection to the spirits of the dead) qualities. Also connects with the source of universal knowledge. 

That’s all I have for now, I’ll probably put out some more when I think of them

cadenzamuse answered your question “Okay I’m stuck and I barely have enough executive function left to get…”

Yeah, I read that as cookie dough and lube, which uh, well there’s a Zimbits prompt for you, clearly.

Tournament organizers are scrambling–probably right now, at 3am–to replace Jack’s mislaid hockey equipment.  They’ve probably also sent a gang of toughs to try to beat his original luggage out of the airline.  In the meanwhile, Jack’s drowning in apologetic vouchers and gift cards, trying to replace what’s been lost.

He eyes the shelves in front of him warily, trying to see if he can tell without using his cumbersome translation app what the Finnish for “toothpaste” is.  KT tape, Bitty texts him, trying to reconstruct Jack’s packing list from Providence.  Mouthwash, hand lotion, lube ;-) Something to replace that pie I sent you with.

Jack sends him a picture of the bewildering choices in front of him and a bunch of exclamation and question marks.  After another minute, his phone rings.

“Totally melting down, baby?” Bitty asks.  “Sorry, didn’t consider I’d make it worse.  Wanna just grab some Advil and Tic-Tacs and call it a day?”

“I don’t want to have nothing for the meeting tomorrow,” Jack says, frustrated.  “But I don’t have the pie anymore.”

“We can work it out,” Bitty soothes. “How you feeling?”

Jack closes his eyes and breathes deeply.  His head is swimming, and all of the choices in front of him are wrong, and he feels like he wants to explode.  “I’m… overstimulated,” he says, reaching painfully for his new vocabulary.

“Yeah, not surprised,” Bitty says, and then just lets the conversation dangle.  He knows not to push too hard and overload Jack further with words just now.

So without a question to answer, Jack tries to pull back and look at this like a play.  Right now being caught up in the little differences between bottles is like fighting for the puck when he’s surrounded by defensemen; he needs to stop being caught in the little scrabble and pull back, think on a grander scale.

He puts the thought into words, very clearly and precisely, recent knowledge writing the way: I am autistic and this is harder for me than it would be for almost anyone else.  I should get somebody else to do this, and focus on what I’m good at.

It clears his lungs out.  His shoulders relax a little.  “I’m going to make a list and get somebody to make a run for me,” he says.  “Somebody who speaks Finnish.  The hotel toothbrush will be okay.”

“Sounds good,” Bitty says.  

Jack looks down at the three bottles in his basket and carefully begins to put them back.  When he’s done, he turns over another small thought, and says, “I should just grab the things I wouldn’t want somebody else to pick out for me.”

After he hangs up, feeling calm enough to probably get out of the store on his own, he texts Bitty, What’s Finnish for lube?

The “International” section of the cooler has tubes of cookie dough lying in between the breakfast burritos and spring rolls.  Jack buys one, hoping that his hotel room is like others he’s been in and has cookie sheets in the drawer under the oven in its kitchenette.  After all, he’s started to like the reputation for being the man with fresh-baked treats; it makes people seek him out, act friendly to him, in a way that doesn’t feel uncomfortable.

Liukaste? Bitty texts back.  It’s enough to let Jack make a more targeted sweep of the toiletries area and find a bottle with English packaging that doesn’t promise to do anything alarming.

He can’t think of anything else he needs right now and honestly he doesn’t care.  He wants to go to his room, and maybe even to bed.

❤, he texts Bitty, and goes to pay for his purchases.

The Party - Part Eight

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

Summary: You and Jared finally talk about what you saw in that article.

Words: 1,241

Jared x Reader

Warnings: angst/argument

A/N: Next part will probably contain smut… hope that’s cool with y’all

Your name: submit What is this?

The rest of the week passed in a dull blur. You’d blocked Jared’s number from your phone so that you didn’t have to keep ignoring his texts and calls, and you took on overtime at work, giving your brain something else to think about.

Sal gave you sympathetic looks, but when you told her that you didn’t want to talk about it, she left you alone.

You told yourself that you were being stupid to think that it’d work out anyway. He was a beautiful, muscular TV and movie star, and you were a small town insurance claims examiner. It wasn’t exactly a match made in heaven.

You’d worked two hours of overtime on Friday before Sal told you to go home.

You nodded tiredly, packing up some paperwork to take home and work on in the hope that it would take your mind off of Jared.

Keep reading

How to repair an underworks binder

(I’d appreciate if as many people as possible could reblog this. This is a really common problem with these binders, but I’ve never seen any posts about fixing them on here before) 

If you’ve ever had an underworks binder you’ve probably encountered the way the material starts to separate once they get stretched out. And if you haven’t yet you probably will at some point, because this is usually what does for them in the end and makes them a bit useless. Mine wasn’t actually that bad when I did this, I’ve seen them get a lot worse.

The material loses it’s elasticity so it doesn’t bind very well. 

To fix this I replaced the back panel with white four-way-stretch lycra, inspired by gc2b binders, which are made entirely of it (apart from the canvas front panel), or something similar 

I’m really happy with how this turned out. It binds better than it ever did before for me (because I got it second hand). The only thing I would say is that it’s a little less comfortable than it was before, both because it’s tighter, and also because the seams dig in a little because I didn’t sew them flat like they were before. And it took me ages to do, but that’s because I don’t have a machine so I did it all by hand. It was worth it though, because the fabric only cost £5 which is a lot less than a new binder :)

I’ll put the details of how I did this under a cut

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Has anyone else noticed how Jason’s Pill helmet makes him look like a red Tic Tac on steroids? Well, I found a post I made a while ago about it, and it got me thinking again.

What if for Christmas one year, Tim gives him a tiny present box.

“H-here Jason, merry Christmas,” Tim held out a small box to Jason, the weirdest expression on his face; either of total discomfort or “I’m trying really hard not to laugh”.

Jason looked down at the box, then up at his replacement, who was practically bouncing out of his shoes. He gingerly took the box, waiting for it to explode or something, but nothing happened. There was a small snicker, then a loud snort and suddenly Tim burst into laughter and ran off. At the noise, Bruce peered in from the door with a “what did you do?” face, before leaving, probably not wanting anything to do with whatever this situation was.

Bewildered, Jason looked back at the tiny present. He sat down and began to open it. He pulled away all the wrapping, and what he found underneath was a box of red Tic Tacs, on which someone had printed small angry faces on each one.

Bruce was reading in his study, trying to ignore his children’s antics, which was easy until Jason’s loud voice echoed down the halls.

“TIMOTHY JACKSON DRAKE, I’M GONNA KICK YOUR ASS INTO NEXT WEEK!” Jason shouted, enraged, and Tim’s crazy laughter could be heard over the sound of running feet.

! Major thanks to @safety-dancer for editing this for me, because I seriously cannot English !

For @fyenale, who requested post-game AschLuke and cooking, which I kind of replaced with baking, hope you don’t mind! Also some of this ended up being based off of one of my personal headcanons because I’m trash. Whoops. But I actually kinda like the way this turned out, so even though it’s probably not what you were expecting, I hope you like it! 

There was something special about the Keterburg Inn that never failed to draw people in. Maybe it was the food, warm enough to make stomachs glow after a long day’s work. Maybe it was the fire that always twinkled in the hearth, providing a safe haven from the city’s constantly frigid weather. Maybe it was the other patrons, the dull roar that rumbled through the building as everyone chatted and laughed with one another. Whatever it was, it gave the Keterburg Inn a sense of warmth, of comfort, of home that no other of its kind could quite match.

Knowing that, Asch really wasn’t surprised that his replica had picked this place.

It was empty and silent when he walked in. There were no other people occupying the couches of the lounge area. There was no one behind the front desk. There was no chatter of voices or buzz of laughter; the only sound was the occasional pop of the crackling fire that was still blazing in the hearth.

Asch stepped in further. A warm feeling settled over his shoulders that felt so real, he almost forgot it was fake.

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anonymous asked:

For the tittle meme thing "I don't know my own face anymore."

this just screams creepy psychological mystery to me but I’m having trouble with the details. maybe something like, the matsuno family ends up targeted by a doppelganger that wants to usurp the place of one of them - any one of them is fine since they’re basically interchangeable. the doppelganger slips into their midst whenever one or more of them is absent from the group and pretends to be one of the ones who isn’t there. maybe there’s an ultimatum to it that they learn from dekapan where if the doppelganger can trick them for a certain amount of time or in a certain way or something then it’ll gain the power to kill and fully replace one of them. the sextuplets probably treat it really flippantly at first and take jabs at each other like “oh maybe we’ll finally get a proper new osomatsu-niisan” and such but the doppelganger is so legitimately unnerving and terrifying to be around that the jokes pretty quickly stop. maybe the doppelganger gains more and more power the longer it’s around and it starts finding ways to make it harder for them to tell it apart, like rendering one of them unable to speak for a while or something (a big part of how creepy it is is that it doesn’t talk and just stares and skulks around and looks unnatural somehow). possibly as it gets closer to the climax the brothers even begin to doubt themselves, wondering if they could have been replaced by the doppelganger and not know it. very tense, lots of accusations and mistrust

genre: supernatural, psychological, not exactly horror but something kind of close?

amali-amari replied to your post: They reverted Anas Grenade Nerf, Zen can’t target…

tbh I dort like that they reverted that. Zens buff was quite interesting, specially for flankers. The Ana nerf was probably to harsh, but a nerf is necessary to get rid of the tank meta. At least they said that they just didnt want to change to much during one patch, so there will probably come something else soon.

They should’ve reverted the damage nerf or put her damage to 70 so she can still 3-shot Pharah and keep the Grenade change. Ana should get 100 self heal from the grenade, allies only 50 so she can still self-sustain herself.

I can understand why the Zen buff was op but it got replaced with something better and more consistent since now his projectiles work like Pharahs rockets and go straight, not with the curve and the RNG spread to it 

A kinda sorts tutorial on how to fix fur that looks damaged beyond repair!

Fabric.com have a terrible habit of sending out less than perfect fur, usually it looks like the fur on the left, it has deep wrinkles in the fur in regular lines, probably from being rested against a radiator or something. Either way, they used to offer a refund or send out a replacement, now they seem reluctant to, so here’s a quick how to to fix it.

Grab a hairdryer, ensure it has multiple heat settings, and a large brush, not a fine toothed comb. 

Heat on fur for prolonged periods is bad, but short bursts [no more than 20 seconds]  of high heat reverses bad damage like this.

Hold your hair dryer on it’s mid heat setting and highest blow setting, and keep it practically on the fur, about 5cm away, 10 secs for small wrinkles, 20 for nasty ones, and rinse and repeat until they’re gone. 

The only thing you need to do is be sure to brush the fur while it’s still warm, or it’ll cool down and ‘set’ in the position the hair dryer blew it in. 

Next time you see someone selling or think of selling that big piece of ruined fur you get in the mail, give this a try!

anonymous asked:

How would you picture Hillary's America right about now?

In that alternate universe here’s what’s going on.  A GOP members showed some spine from day one they forced an investigation into Hillary’s criminal practices and the noose is closing (although given GOP idiocy they’ll probably bungle the end game like they always do).  However Democrats, realizing with 3 straight terms of Dem control they can’t but take the blame for Obamacare and are working with Ryan to replace the bill with something not great but better than Obamacare (or Trumpcare) and Hillary is willing to sign just to stick it to Barry. 

Most other reform is dead in the water.  Hillary’s Supreme Court nominee is dead in the water and Congress is pushing to lower the number of justices to 7.   However as TPP has been passed the early signs of increased trade and the economic benefits that come from that are showing.  Texas is threatening secession, but what else is new. 

On a foreign policy stand point drone attacks have been increased and ISIS is getting the shit kicked out it but civillian casualities are also up.  But at least Russia isn’t gaining new territory. 

Personally if I had a choice between universe I would prefer the one where Romney is on his second term.

On Helvetica Standard #16

or, “The Identity of the Woman in the White Dress”

Helvetica Standard #16 (or #9 if you’re going by the anime) is probably one of the most well-known Helvetica Standards, because of how memorable it is. It’s the one where an unnamed woman is searching for a book, and when she finally finds it, it turns out that the book’s contents have been replaced by a gun.

Because of the ambiguous ending, there have been plenty of theories about its meaning, often drawing inspiration from the title of the book, “The Colour of Autumn”:

But did you know that in the original manga strip, the book was called something completely different?

It’s actually a real novel, written by Arawi Keiichi’s friend Sawada in 2009. The title is “Yojouhan Senjou”, or “4.5 Tatami Mat Battleground”. (Yojouhan refers to a traditional floor layout of Japanese-style rooms.)

What’s interesting though is what the novel is about. It follows the story of a recent high school graduate named Niikura Ayumu, who’s starting art school in a new city. Two of the students she meets there are Izumi and Nagumo, who Niikura knew back in high school. Apparently Sawada based his novel on these character designs by Arawi, who didn’t actually use them himself until he started his new CITY manga seven years later.

…Or did he? Looking back at Helvetica Standard #16, it’s pretty striking how much of a resemblance Izumi Wako bears to the woman in the white dress.

It may have been 7 years since this Helvetica Standard was first published, but maybe with the continuation of Arawi’s new manga, we’ll get some more insight into who this woman really is, how the gun ended up inside the book, and why she left the “bustle of the CITY” to begin with…

something sadık does in his free time probably

- jade ottomanliest, 2014

taksynator  asked:

Mage of Mind and Seer of Time maybe? Love the blog btws.

How can I say no to such a complementary and STRONG ask?

Mage and Seer cancel out and make the Waste. Time and Mind make Past.

The Waste of Past… could actually be an interesting character, if done right. At some point in the past, they were great, or they did something great, that made everyone love them. And they’re stuck in that one single moment.

And they probably faked it.

To this day, they maintain that whatever it was, they did it on purpose, and could do it again in a heartbeat. They have many friends, admirers, even potential suitors. But they can’t do it. They probably never could. And they’re terrified of the consequences if others find out. Think Hercule Satan from Dragon Ball Z, or that replacement director guy from Marvel’s Agents of Shield.

Kat & Jasmine trying to raise money to replace Jela & the Twins’ stuff. This is WHACK for a number of reasons:

  1. They ruined it, so THEY should be paying for it. Not anyone else. Begging for money to right your wrong does not settle it.
  2. They’re making the Twins & Jela look bad with this “fundraiser” to replace their Gucci & Louis. WTF, couldn’t you use your infamy to support a BETTER cause? Like helping poor kids get clothing or something?
  3. The only reason they feel bad is because of the way the fans reacted. At the time, they were all “make bgc history” and shit.
  4. They’re probably going to KEEP any money they raise from this anyways…
Meta Horror

Or at least my best shot at it, I don’t really do horror movies, for prompt 3 of @huxloween

The Finalizer is quiet as Hux stalks the hallways late one Gamma shift.  He’d gone to his quarters hours earlier with the intention of getting a full night’s sleep for once, but found himself unable to.  

It’s not that there are emergencies to tend to: the Resistance has been quiet of late, construction on Starkiller is going well, and even Ren has been less of a constant whirlwind of destruction.  Hux hasn’t had to have a console replaced in weeks, despite the Knight’s constant presence on ship.  …He’ll have to look in on him soon, make sure he hasn’t meditated himself to death or something.  Snoke would probably take it amiss that his pet died on Hux’s watch.

He’s about to take the corridor nearby that leads back to his chambers when Hux sees a blue flicker from the corner of his eye.  A more direct look and it’s gone.  He dismisses it as a mere trick of the light and continues.

But there it is again.  This time, he gets a better look, and the shape of it looks much like a person.

Keep reading

Azurite nodule, bisected…

The bright blue and green copper carbonate minerals azurite and malachite are known as secondary minerals, because in the geological sequence that leads to lovely specimens like the one in the photo they form from pre existing elements and minerals, replacing them with something more appropriate for the environmental conditions. In the case of these beauties the journey likely started with hot copper rich fluid being expelled from a crystallising granite somewhere in the depths of the Earth. Conditions were anoxic and the copper was carried in a loose bond with an element such as sulphur or chlorine, until the fluid encountered a change in chemical or pressure/temperature conditions that forced some elements out of solution.

They probably crystallised as sulphide minerals, in this case either forming or replacing a nodule in the sediments. Later, as the rocks containing the nodule were slowly uncovered by erosion and oxygen and carbonate rich water started to percolate down from the surface the sulphides were transformed into carbonates, while retaining the shape of the initial concretion.


Image credit: LGF Foundation.

I’m not really into UFC (okay I have basically no idea of it) but I’m bothered with all the comments towards Ronda Rousey. So many people were completely in love with her and as soon as she loses they’re posting on social media that she’s too cocky and she got what she deserved.
I’m sure that if this was a male sport where the (from what I’ve seen in interviews) down-to-earth and passionate favourite lost this wouldn’t happen. In fact the word cocky would probably be replaced with confidence, something that women aren’t allowed to have.


Sam glared at the man who had appeared on his porch. The guy was too handsome and smiley; he looked like a salesman. Selling what? He had no idea. Probably tiny, tiny shorts.

Sam: Can I help you with something?

Ben: Good evening, Mr. Wyatt! I’m Ben Bosley from across the street. I’m  here to babysit Arlene.

Sam: Oh. Hi. Where’s Dominique?

Ben: She had to work tonight. But I assure you, I’m quite good with kids! I have a whole brood of nieces and nephews back home. You can call Dominique and check if you want! 

Whole brood of nieces and nephews, eh? Sam frowned. He probably IS good with kids. I bet he can cook, too. And he looks good, even in weirdly tiny shorts. Dammit, I’m being replaced!