In the same vein as other ‘things humans do that aliens might be weirded out by’ what if human pattern recognition skills were the thing? Like the ability to see a cloud resolve into a dog, or faces in wall patterns. Stuff that evolved from predators having camouflaging abilities, or let’s face it, bugs that can look basicaly like a leaf to prey ON.
Imagine an alien being super confounded by a human being like ‘oh, that control board looks like a face’ and it’s just this big grouping of random lights and line but no ALL the humans on board think it looks like a FACE and theyve started NAMING it. And it just seems so confusing- is there anything on this flat painted wall? ‘No of course not’ HOW IS THERE AN OF COURSE NOT. What about in that galaxy? And the human squints and stares at it and says ‘yeah, it looks like a cat.’
And they an draw out what they’re recognizing in the lines but it’s just so strange.
And then an enemy develops ‘cloaking technology’ that’s based on camouflaging and are so angry that every single human is able to point it out because it’s a completely obvious moving shape to them.
or: alien species are introduced to leaf insects, tigers, and that one octopus that imitates a coconut and freak the heck out.
god I love this kind of post
Human: Sometimes there’s a thing, and sometimes there’s not really a thing. In both cases my ancestors did not get eaten by a thing.
(via storyideasfrom)
1. “you died and left me your children, even though they’re only a few years younger then me”
2. “you died and left me a haunted house”
3. “you died and left me an obscure magical object, I’m not sure what it does, and your instruction sheet just says ‘have fun storming the castle!’”
4. “you died and left me a fanatically loyal warrior order”
5. “you died and left me a bunch of money and a pile of really weird IOUs?! why did someone owe you a free body disposal. why did someone owe you two brides and a goat. why did someone owe you an island. WHY”
6. “you died and left me to repay a bunch of really weird IOUs”
7. “you died and left me a small country”
8. “you died and left me six research labs that operate in international waters and I’m kind of scared to find out why keeping them out there was a stipulation of the will”
9. “you died and left me a menagerie of animals that are supposed to be extinct? and some that aren’t supposed to be real??? where did you get unicorns. where did you get gryphons. where did you get pegasi???”
10. “you died and left me on the hook for a hereditary marriage contract”
11. “you died and left me as the genetic key to a safe that some crazy people are really determined to open, and i would like to keep all of my fingers”
12. “you died and you left me your kid, the problem being that there is no way this is your kid and i think that it might be a fairy changing??!?”
13. “you died and i now have to clean out your house and why the hell did you have a sex dungeon? Oh god, someone has been living down here.”
14. “you died and now aliens have come for me because you were their earth contact and now they’ve dragged me into their war with the government to allow the world to know about them.”
15, “you died and you had all of these contracts that you had put my name on and so now i now employee a small fleet of butlers and i have to have them for five years.”
16. “you died and left your demon contract to me, so now i have to figure out a loophole in your shit legal jargon contract written in blood so that i also don’t go to hell.”
17. “you died and WHY DID YOU HAVE SOME MANY DOGS.”
18. “You died and all of your money went to me, but now your gold-digging former spouse is hitting on me and i can’t make them leave because of a stipulation in the will.”
(via storyideasfrom)
All right, here is Part II of Deorum. Part I is here, I hope you guys enjoy!
“Jackie, you look terrible,” the girl at the counter said, alarmed. She had delicate features, with an upturned nose and a light scattering of freckles over her cheeks, and her long brown hair was bound up into a neat crown of braids. She looked about sixteen, dressed in a pearly grey shirt and a black apron that said simply Idunn’s Coffee. “What’s wrong?”
“Wish you wouldn’t call me that, Idunn,” he said, and she smiled at him fondly, flashing a slim line of teeth. She had conceded to the Anglicized version of her name with more grace than some of her other counterparts, which Jack appreciated. He found the ‘eth’ letter rather difficult, and she despaired of his pronunciation.
“You’ve mentioned,” she said, brushing one hand over her forehead in the habitual movement of one checking for stray hairs. A pair of stacked gold rings glinted on her index finger, with a third on her thumb. Her entire family dripped with the things, Jack knew—a scant three was downright restrained. “You do look exhausted, though. Everything okay?”
“A house I pass on the way to work has this sculpture in its yard. Its about 8 feet tall.”
“HELLO NEIGHBOR STEVE, I WOULD LIKE TO INVITE YOU TO BARBEQUE ON THE EVE OF THE BLOOD MOON. I FEEL WE GOT OFF TO A BAD START.”
“NEIGHBOR STEVE, DO YOU NOT WISH TO PARTAKE OF THE UNCLEAN FLESH-MEATS OF PIGS AND THE POLLUTED ESSENCES OF TOMATO? PERHAPS YOU ARE A CAROLINA STYLE MAN, NEIGHBOR STEVE?”
“PUT THE GUN AWAY NEIGHBOR STEVE, YOU KNOW I SHALL ONLY RISE AGAIN WITH THE DAWNING OF THE MOON. WE HAVE BEEN THROUGH THIS MANY TIMES.”
“LOOK AT THIS PICTURE MY SON DREW OF YOU AND CHILD TIMMY, YOUR SON. ARE THEY NOT THE PICTURE OF PACT-MATES? THIS COULD BE YOU AND ME, NEIGHBOR STEVE.”
“YOU MISSED THE UNHOLY NEXUS OF POWER THAT IS THE KEY TO MY CORPOREAL FORM, NEIGHBOR STEVE. YOU WILL NEED TO RELOAD NOW, SO I WILL GO INSIDE TO MY HELL-WIFE AND PUT YOU DOWN AS A SOLID ‘MAYBE’.“
I have the feeling that the families get along great except for Steve. Like, the wives are baking (questionable) brownies together, the kids are playing together, Antler Guy occasionally takes Son and Timmy to school (no car, just carries them in huge swinging strides through a nexus of ungoldly sights in a swirling netherworld shortcut. Sometimes they stop for McDonalds). Hell-wife gave them a potted Audrey Jr., Steve’s wife (who I now christen Sharon) gave them a begonia.
One time Steve tries throwing holy water but all Antler Guy does is thank him, saying that no, Antler Guy isn’t Catholic but it’s the thought that counts, he is so kind to water his creeping deathshade vines regardless.
For Christmas Antler Guy gives Steve a case of ammunition. To be funny/sarcastically mean Steve gets Antler Guy the world’s most hideous Christmas sweater, singing light-up reindeer included. He immediately regrets it because not only does Antler Guy love it and wears it for several months, it will never need batteries because Antler Guy powers it with his own eldritch aura.
When they come back from a holiday to Hawaii, Steve is horrified to find out Sharon bought them matching Hawaiian shirts. He is even more horrified that his wife means it that if he doesn’t wear it he will forever sleep on the couch.
I want to expand on this, since I see it’s still passing around and the ideas have grown in my brainmeats.
What drives Steve up the wall and down the other side is how… normal… everyone treats the Abominations. (Yes, that is their last name. No, it is not a joke. Son was asked his last name for the standardized testing at school, had a quick conference with Timmy, and decided that Son Abomination sounded good, “Since my dad calls your dad the Abomination anyway and we can paint it on your mailbox just like the Henderson’s did theirs!”. Antler Guy agreed and did a lovely rendition of it for the mailbox, with only a few glyphs of soul-rending terror added to keep up to snuff.)
The Great Plant Exchange went beautifully, though the Audrey Jr. (named Aubergine for the lovely shade of purple poison that drips from her fangs) is on a diet at the moment. She was in cahoots with the cat and the dog to get into the good people food and ate two frozen turkeys all herself. Now she’s restricted to the hallway table to answer the phone and the door. (Steve actually likes her, and keeps slipping her hotdogs when Sharon isn’t looking. Their door-to-door salesman rates have dropped dramatically since she changed abodes.) Hell-wife has almost gotten the begonia to bloom and say it’s first words.
The homeowner’s association just loves the Abominations. All paperwork stamped and dotted, in on time and in triplicate. Antler Guy likes filing, says it reminds him of his old job. There is a resident who spent 20 years as a lawyer and they have long, animated conversations about all sorts of things that make Steve swear to never need legal counsel.
Hell-wife joined the PTA and spearheaded a committee to fundraise in the fall with a haunted house. It was a county-wide hit, though the claims that a particularly rowdy group had been deliberately lost in a timeslip to the Outer Doors Of Chaos was firmly rebuffed. Most young people nowadays, it was agreed, just couldn’t appreciate flute music.
Antler Guy really does try to connect with Steve. The surprise birthday party was perhaps a bit much, given that most participants do not have the ability to suddenly materialize in front of the guest of honor to give them a hug. Sharon assured them that Steve normally screams on his birthday, and the remains of the cake were heartily enjoyed by all. (A plate was saved for Steve once he came down from the treehouse.)
After the Hawaii trip (which was a present for his birthday) and the Matching Shirt Ultimatum (which was Sharon’s attempt at patching things up with Antler Guy, he really was sad about the birthday screaming), Steve finally grabs his courage in both hands (plus the shotgun, which let’s face it is about as useful as a teddybear at the moment but it does comfort him) and confronts Antler Guy, about why such a group of……Abominations could possibly come to his quiet slice of suburban bliss.
“……BUT NEIGHBOR STEVE, WE HAVE ALWAYS BEEN HERE.”
“No no no, I read it in a book! Don’t you have to be invited or something?!”
“WELL YES, TO THE HUMAN WORLD. BUT THIS IS NOT THE HUMAN WORLD AS YOUR THREE-DIMENSIONAL BRAIN PERCEIVES IT.”
“What the hell does that mean?!!”
“DID YOU NOT KNOW, NEIGHBOR STEVE? LEGALLY SPEAKING, ALL OF THE VASTNESS OF HUMAN SUBURBIA IS, IN FACT, A PART OF HELL.”
“……..”
“THE FLAMINGOES ARE THE BOUNDARY MARKERS. IT WAS DECIDED THAT THE FLAMING SKULLS WERE TOO KITSCHY FOR MODERN TIMES.”
(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)
Anonymous asked: i love how protective deadshot was over harley, he saw right past how she acted but never tried to change her
Surrounded by blob monsters and assassins and metahumans, it’s not surprising that Deadshot/Floyd Lawton (or anyone in the Squad, really) might want to protect Harley–she’s barely 5′6″, and a girl. But Floyd’s (surprisingly well-developed) relationship with her is neither as sexist nor as simplistic as that.
Though you might expect him to, Floyd doesn’t protect Harley from the blob monsters. Firstly, there’s no need – they’re both killers. Secondly, she would probably shoot him for trying. Floyd trusts Harley to handle herself, which means he takes care of her, but only when she needs it. More importantly, he trusts Harley to take care of Rick Flag, not once, but twice – the importance of which cannot be overstated, given that his death means the immediate execution of each and every one of them. What Floyd protects Harley from is herself–when she’s distracted by the dead blob thing in the middle of a firefight, when she has a flashback on the stairwell, when she runs straight towards the enchantress without thinking. They’ve barely known each other a day, but Floyd already knows her. He can distinguish between what Harley needs to be protected from (her bad habits) and what she can handle on her own (pretty much everything else) because he sees her as a partner and treats her as such.
Even knowing what she’s capable of, Floyd never makes the mistake of seeing Harley as a ticking time bomb. Everyone else on the Squad (Boomerang in particular) seems to treat her like she’s radioactive–pretty to look at, but hazardous to your health. Floyd is the only person who treats her like a human being, instead of just a pretty weapon. Harley’s even guilty of this herself – hiding her relationship with Joker, masking her vulnerabilities, running headfirst into danger – and she does it mostly with words, her second-deadliest weapon. What Floyd does in Suicide Squad is bypass her words entirely. Whether they’re speaking with words (in the stairwell, during shootouts), through glances (on the helicopter, or on the roof), or through touch (on the car, fighting the Enchantress), Floyd can always tell what Harley’s really saying, which allows her to be her truest self with him. It’s like they operate on a level of understanding that no one else in the Squad can touch, which is why their relationship becomes tactile halfway through the film–they don’t need words anymore.
Wow that got long. ANYWAYS Floyd and Harley are sweet and lovely and perfect and wonderful together (and Will Smith better be in the freaking Harley movie or I’m fighting someone).
He is, however, perfectly willing to fuck with time and reality.
And also steal your infants.
He didn’t steal anything. She literally asked him to take the baby. Don’t make him the bad guy just because she was a shitty sister.
I think you are severely misinformed as to how baby ownership works.
It was not her baby to give.
David Bowie is unquestionably the villain.
Which do you think existed first, modern custody legislature, or the goblin king?
The girl was entrusted by her parents with the care and custody of the child. By the laws governing the goblin king and his transactions, the girl was the current rightful owner of the child and made a deal with the king to take the child. Perhaps you’re not familiar with english folklore. Fae have rules, they’re tricksters, they can be sneaky, but they never break the rules.
Slammin’ it down in the Labyrinth fandom tonight, kids.
(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)
I would fight Thomas Jefferson anywhere, anytime.
(Source: unlikelyloving, via windbladess)
dream au: padme goes into labor as mace windu dies. anakin feels it, through the force, and runs to her instead of kneeling before palpatine - enraged, palpatine orders the execution of order 66, with a small addendum: kill padme amidala. take her children.
bail organa, present for padme’s delivery, fights off the soldiers trying to kill her but one blaster isn’t much against seventy - until, by sheer chance and the ripples of a disturbance in the force, ahsoka tano saves them both and they stowaway on ship towards alderaan. the nurse hands the twins to the clone troopers.
clone troopers catch anakin in the steets, and his death-by-grenade is seen by hundreds - except, he didn’t die. he dropped into coruscant’s underworld, chasing the signatures of his children, and he force chokes the soldier holding them. he takes them, and he runs, bolting to the nearest shipyard so he can steal a ship and escape -
palpatine is there, and he says, “she’s dead,” and tries to lure anakin back to the dark side - but anakin and his children escape by the skin of their teeth and shaak ti’s lightsaber.
padme spearheads the rebellion. she burns palpatine’s empire down, bit by bit, and repeats, “for my family,” like a war cry - she is unstoppable. the empire will fall.
anakin lands on the doorstep of the larses, says, “i need a favor.” beru and owen take him in. there’s more money with a mechanic in the family, and anakin builds the scanner he always dreamed about, and the slaves start to disappear.
until, of course, he’s outed as a jedi, taken prisoner by the empire, and stationed on the death star. luke and leia skywalker are not leaving their father behind, so they hitch a ride with han solo, break into the death star, and - come face-to-face with general kenobi and commander tano?
(via skymurdock)
All right, so, I hit 400 followers and as promised, here is Deorum! This is just the first part, obviously, because…uh…I’m me, so naturally this is pushing 30 pages. Also: Deorum is Latin for ‘of (the) gods,’ Jack is…not the Christian god, nor is he Jesus. I thought that was apparent, but there was much confusion in my writing class so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. And for once, the curtains are not just blue, everything has a meaning, EVERYTHING. Feel free to hit me up if you want a detailed breakdown.
“A woman I don’t know is boiling tea the Indian way in my kitchen,” Jack Deorum hissed into his phone, keeping one eye on the red-lipped woman at his counter. He was as far away as he could manage while staying within visual range, taking care to keep his voice down, and the woman seemed unperturbed. Her hands were graceful, flashing quick and lovely about the white porcelain of his favorite mug and the black-brushed steel of his electric kettle. Her masses of coiling black hair spilled down her back, stark as paint against the drape of her rose and gold sari, cut in a South Indian style. Her feet were bare and delicate.
Anonymous asked: Okay, my queer little heart is almost hilariously into your swole af Diana (and also I laughed until my chest hurt too much to breathe at your hc about how she carried Bruce that one time, it made my life so much better) and I was wondering if you had any further headcanons to share about Wonder Woman.
idk about headcanons but here are some ideas that either already have made it into fics or probably will in the future (have I posted some of these before?? i feel like i did but i can’t find it, fuck):
- Historically Amazons were probably Iranian or the historical equivalent so ayyyyyyy
- Despite my temptation to make her swole but tiny I kept her 5′10″ which is the exact same height as Dick Grayson and four inches shorter than Bruce Wayne and eight inches taller than I am jesus christ how is that not tall enough for some people that is so fucking tall and she wears heels sometimes goddamn
- She’s like three hundred years old but she spent most of her life in her techno-utopia home so lots of things are still totally new to her and she keeps getting confused by all the stuff that isn’t a thing anymore (sometimes her slang… is so old…)
- Everyone in modern comics wants Themyscira to blow up and go to war and shit?? what gives??? Sorry but I want a badass techno-utopia island of immortal women whose primary conflicts are philosophical and essentially boil down to “but what about the prime directive”
- The flag motif for costumes started in WW2 because it was a convenient way to let people know she was there to punch Nazis and chew bubblegum and she still had plenty of bubblegum but she’s a good multitasker here comes bazooka joe motherfucker
- The most costumes of any superhero in the League because she’s old and doesn’t have a secret identity to protect so she can just do all sorts of shit, she’s strayed from the original designs of her costumes which is to say they are no longer meant to be as unmanly as possible out of spite
- Wouldn’t it be great if she picked Prince as a surname to use in Man’s World because she didn’t understand that the word was gendered and just wanted to convey Diana, Next For The Throne
- She figured it out obviously but Princess isn’t really a surname anyway so she kept it, fuck it, gendered words are weird
- I know most of the time she has a secret identity but I like it better if she’s THE PRINCESS DIANA OF THEMYSCIRA, WOMAN OF WONDER AND AMBASSADOR TO THE WORLD OF MEN but as long as she wears normal clothes and introduces herself as Diana Prince most people let her go about her business without making the connection. It’s not a secret it’s just like if David Bowie went somewhere in the 80s wearing flannel and introduced himself as David Jones. Bowie fans would go HOLY SHIT and everyone else would go ‘someone please feed that man and take his cocaine away’
- “Amazons are resurrected murder victims” what where did this even come from this is depressing as hell, why can’t they just be an island of badass Middle-Eastern women blessed by Goddesses who went out and made their own island and started accepting female refugees from Man’s World who could make it to their shores (sometimes they help people make it to their shores)
- Wonder Woman and Aquaman as old friends with adjacent kingdoms hell yeah hell yeah
- She’s really bad at dick jokes. ‘Balls’ is a weird word for testicles, for one thing. Plus it’s a matter of culture when it comes to genitalia. There are Amazons with dicks, sure, but there aren’t Amazons who refuse to shut up about how huge their dicks are or how small someone else’s dick is. That’s a weird cultural thing and ya’ll need Artemis.
- Everyone has abandoned “an amazon who allows herself to be bound by a man loses her powers” but I’m bringing it back and making changes okay. How about just “an amazon who allows herself to be bound loses her powers” and instead of gender being the important part, the important part is “allowed” as in “she has to consent to it” as in “an amazon can only really be hurt by someone that she’s trusted”
- She’s all about the power of love but also she’s competitive as hell
- She loves emoji