So… @wildehacked tagged me in this meme, add the first line of a WIP and tag as many people as there are words, and honestly I feel personally called out by this particular writing meme

Because, much like Wilde, I discovered that I write long-ass first sentences.  I found one that was a flat 50 words.  Most easily topped 30, with a handful in the mid 20′s.  This is the shortest opening sentence I found and it’s 16 and I’m sorry but I am definitely going to run out of people to tag before I hit 16, so please consider this an open invitation.

From what Tobias could tell, it got to be a habit after a while, looking up

To the shock of everyone, I am sure, it’s an Animorphs fic.

Right, okay, I’m so sorry, I don’t even know if all of you WRITE fic: @littlestartopaz, @slyrider, @chromatographic, @aethersea, @skymurdock, @sroloc–elbisivni, @flvffs, @c-foley, and…fuck, y’all, that’s eight, if you want to do the thing and feel mildly judged by a meme about opening sentences, go for it.

suzukiblu:

*rolls over, bares her tummy* yesssssss

Also NONE OF THIS makes Vader less vicious or violent out in the world. Sometimes this makes Vader MORE vicious and violent out in the world, in fact, because he figures out slightly quicker than Padmé exactly how much SHARPER she is with him when he’s gone farther than she wanted him to go. And it’s not even the sharpness he wants specifically–it’s the ATTENTION–but he’d never say no to it. When she figures THAT out … hah. Haaaaah. She doesn’t even have to fucking TOUCH him, when she figures that out. 

She DOESN’T touch him when she figures that out. He goes fucking CRAZY with it; he falls the fuck APART with it. She doesn’t even look at him for a full week, not even when he goddamn BEGS her to. The Empire could probably have collapsed without either of them noticing, if the Senate hadn’t known exactly how dead they all would’ve been if it had. 

Just–Padmé Amidala literally riding the FUCKING TIGER here, with the fine line of giving Vader enough Dark to be content with but not enough to damn himself with. As if that even matters, now. As if that COULD matter, now. 

It matters even more, now. 

But what Vader wants from her is so much tenderness, and so much terribleness, and so MUCH, and sometimes Padmé isn’t sure if she’s the bloody bite-mark smeared down his throat or the soft hand stroking through his sticky, sweat-soaked hair. Or worse–if she’s both. What is she, if she is both those things to someone? 

What is she if she is both those things to the GALAXY? 

chaoticlivi:

listen, trying to describe Soul Eater to anyone who isn’t very familiar with certain types of tropes and storylines - especially ones commonly found in anime and manga - is a fucking trip.

“he turns into a scythe, but he can also play the piano during battle. like, FROM the scythe. sometimes the scythe turns into a piano. but it’s all him. also, his partner has wings on her soul and they can make the wings come out of the scythe.”

“so there’s a dangerous magic book that the characters go inside and experience the seven deadly sins. no, it’s not dante’s inferno, but it is a reference”

“the sexy lady is their cat/their cat is a sexy lady”

“the grim reaper is a school headmaster in nevada”

All right, story time.

All you need to know is that, A, it’s the first week of freshman year of college–you know, orientation week where no one has anything to do because they’re too worried about the freshman class wandering off and getting eaten by bears or whatever–and B, there are about a dozen people (all in various stages of heat-induced exhaustion on our un-air-conditioned campus) draped over couches and chairs in the informal lounge in the student union.  

The dude with the computer wired up to the TV says, “Here, I’ll show you guys the first episode of an anime.”

My ass, having never seen an anime before in literally my entire life, sits there and goes “sure” along with every other semi-functional person in the room.

The first episode of Soul Eater happens on the screen.  Over the course of the twenty-two minutes, about half the people in the room have wandered off because they lost the plot, and those of us who are left are all sitting there slightly slack-jawed and baffled.  It ends, the dude pauses it and goes “Okay, do you all want to watch another.”

There are a couple beats of dead.  Freaking.  Silence.

Finally I sit up from where I’d been watching it and go “What the fuck did I just witness.”

The dude smirks and goes “Soul Eater.  Do you want to watch another episode?”

Fast forward to the end of the week (about five days) and everyone who made it through the first episode has seen two complete seasons of Soul Eater.

It’s now been three years and I’m pretty well versed in the anime thing at this point.  I honestly don’t think I’ve been really STUNNED by an anime since Soul Eater.

Do I necessarily recommend starting with SE?  No, no I do not, it’s like saying “Yeah man, gateway drugs are for the weak, hit me up with some of that hallucinogenic mushroom and come back for me next month.”

On the other hand, it’ll make everything else seem downright freaking NORMAL in comparison.

(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)

Anonymous asked: Okay so I too am Frank Castle trash and Karen Page trash and I was wondering if you have any thoughts on Frank/Karen because I don't think that was the ship I was supposed to walk away from Season 2 with and I'm really glad to know it wasn't just me.

primarybufferpanel:

DO I HAVE THOUGHTS YOU ASK

My thoughts range from ‘realistically, nothing can and should happen because Frank is too fucked in the head and also I think Karen would have some reservations’ to ‘wait this is Daredevil of the endless ninjas, why am I attached to realism’

So what I’d like is if there was some kind of connection, maybe at first without contact. It’s just, Karen writes articles about the Punisher and they are… not unsympathetic. And Frank reads them, and he’s very aware that she’s maybe the only person in the world who thinks of him as a person rather than only the Punisher. And to his mind that becomes the connection to his humanity he can’t quite break away from. It becomes important that Karen would be okay with what he does. He researches his targets carefully. Doesn’t take as much savage joy in killing scum. Tries to do it neatly and dispassionately. And maybe sometimes when his research turns up people or situations that are just ordinarily bad, not utter pondscum, he drops the files at the office of the Bulletin with Karen’s name on them.

She’s important to him - her opinion of him - long before he is on her radar in quite the same way, I’d like to think. But at some point she’s like… dude I’m gonna need more info on these files. Can’t communicate it to him other than a ‘citizens are invited to contact the Bulletin with more info’ line in an article. He drops a phone for her.

And then there is coffee in diners and a lot of glances and unexpected smiles and maybe down the line more than that

"I had an auto-repair man once, who, on these intelligence tests, could not possibly have scored more than 80, by my estimate. I always took it for granted that I was far more intelligent than he was. Yet, when anything went wrong with my car I hastened to him with it, watched him anxiously as he explored its vitals, and listened to his pronouncements as though they were divine oracles - and he always fixed my car.
Well, then, suppose my auto-repair man devised questions for an intelligence test. Or suppose a carpenter did, or a farmer, or, indeed, almost anyone but an academician. By every one of those tests, I’d prove myself a moron, and I’d be a moron, too. In a world where I could not use my academic training and my verbal talents but had to do something intricate or hard, working with my hands, I would do poorly. My intelligence, then, is not absolute but is a function of the society I live in and of the fact that a small subsection of that society has managed to foist itself on the rest as an arbiter of such matters.
Consider my auto-repair man, again. He had a habit of telling me jokes whenever he saw me. One time he raised his head from under the automobile hood to say: “Doc, a deaf-and-mute guy went into a hardware store to ask for some nails. He put two fingers together on the counter and made hammering motions with the other hand. The clerk brought him a hammer. He shook his head and pointed to the two fingers he was hammering. The clerk brought him nails. He picked out the sizes he wanted, and left. Well, doc, the next guy who came in was a blind man. He wanted scissors. How do you suppose he asked for them?”
Indulgently, I lifted my right hand and made scissoring motions with my first two fingers. Whereupon my auto-repair man laughed raucously and said, “Why, you dumb jerk, He used his voice and asked for them.” Then he said smugly, “I’ve been trying that on all my customers today.” “Did you catch many?” I asked. “Quite a few,” he said, “but I knew for sure I’d catch you.” “Why is that?” I asked. “Because you’re so goddamned educated, doc, I knew you couldn’t be very smart.”"

— Isaac Asimov (via skinnybaras)

(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)

lamegrownup:

i dont trust people who are attracted to me…like why? write me a 10 page paper with a legitimate thesis and valid points backing up your claim or you fake.

(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)

Race relations in America in two gifs

snarkbender:

dallasbthompson:

image

image

TRUE

(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)