“Neck Lengths Of Birds + Aggression: A Study.”

This xkcd comic from 2009 changed my life. It feels timeless.

Tea Time Blushes

Tea with her appointed knight had become a weekly occurrence. Since Zelda realised she had created a version of Link in her head that was far from the reality, she had made an effort to get to know Link. Through these efforts she had found reality much more interesting than she had anticipated.

“I heard some ladies fawning over you again today. They said you were the most handsome young man among court this season,” Zelda said.

She casually refrained from mentioning their belief of the waste of company she was for him. Instead, she joked about how those ladies would be appalled by his complete lack of manners when it came to food.

“At least I enjoy my meals. And the company I share them with.” Link barely looked up from cutting himself a second helping of cake as he spoke.

Zelda watched as he devoured his second piece of cake. Each slice had been a generous portion, making her own slice look modest. Surely those ladies would be scandalized at how openly gluttonous Link could be. She wondered then if previous heroes loved cake as much as her Link. Her Link? Since when had he become hers?

They were friends, and barely that, more so thanks to Link’s patience than anything. She would not dare to break their tentative friendship solely because of how her stomach flipped at his blue eyes meeting her own. A silly girlish fantasy of a noblewoman and her devoted knight, something Zelda overheard court ladies swooning over more than once. And something she herself had daydreamed increasingly about. She felt a light flush at the thought of her recent imaginings when she was supposed be in prayer.

Nothing kept the cold water from chilling you like fantasies about your appointed knight pulling you into his arms.

“You have a cute blush, Your Highness,” Link said. His quiet voice startled her away from her thoughts.

“I have a… cute…blush?” Zelda asked, taking her time to wrap her mind around what Link had just said.

Link nodded, “Yes, much better than those court ladies.”

His eyes were focused on her face now, cake forgotten.

“Maybe they would blush better if you spoke to them like that,” Zelda said, eyes shifting but always returning to his. Her stomach clenched at the idea of Link complimenting some twittering noblewoman who only saw him as the perfect hero.

“If I spoke to them like this it would be a lie,” his voice was as quiet and steady as always, though Zelda thought she could hear something else in his tone.

“They would not know the difference. So many noblemen pay false compliments it is a wonder they believe them,” Zelda knew she had received her share of duplicitous compliments due to her rank as Crown Princess.

“I prefer to say what is true, I’m sure you can value that as a scientist. I also prefer to tell those I’m interested in such things directly,” Link said, continuing to look at her with a fond expression.

Zelda could feel her blush deepen between Link’s words and gaze. While most would not have considered what he had said indicative of anything more than playful flirtation, coming from her mostly mute knight it was practically a confession of love.

Link smiled at her reaction, finally turning his attention back to his cake. She sat stunned, trying to wrap her mind around the words. While Zelda had seen enough to know Link was not like this around others, she also did not begin to get to know Link until recently. Was it possible that he was a flirt where he came from? There could be no other reason. Outside of genuine affection for her.

He had called her a scientist, something she tried to be in her efforts to understand Sheikah technology. Zelda decided to live up to the title and conduct an experiment of her own in order to determine how her appointed knight felt about.

“I do appreciate objective facts, though yours have thus far been more subjective,” she said carefully, making sure to watch his face. “I would want a suitor to comment on more than appearances that change daily.”

Link swallowed the last of his cake, crumbs clinging to the corner of his mouth. His face had shifted to be as impassive as always, though his ears flushed pink. Noting the reaction, Zelda decided to see if she could elicit a stronger reaction.

“With you, for example, I could compliment your skill with a sword and dedication to your duties. But I would say it is your patience, perseverance, and kindness I admire most.”

She could feel her heart thudding from the partial confession. Link’s face had not change, though he had gone still. The light blush had deepened, spreading from his ears to his face. It seemed he had turned to blushing stone at her words. One last effort then, and if he gave no sign of affection beyond friendship, she would ignore her budding feelings.

“It seems you have part of your cake on your face,” Zelda stood, closing the small distance between them, and raised her hand to Link’s unmoving face, “I would think crumbs goes against the dress code of the Royal Guard.”

Link still remained unmoving, if possible going even stiller at her touch as she wiped away the crumbs. It looked to Zelda as of he was not breathing. Clearly, she had crossed a line and misread what must have been nothing more than a compliment. Zelda pulled her hand away from his face, took a step back.

“I’m sorry, forget I said any-”

Zelda knew Link could move almost inhumanly fast. She had witnessed it firsthand after he had saved her from a Yiga attack in the Gerudo desert. Though the occasions that warranted such speed usually involved fighting monsters or assassins. Instead of brute force or aggression, Zelda was pulled gently towards a now standing Link. One hand held her steadily to him at the small of her back while the other moved up her arm, coming to cup her face.

His lips hovered over hers, his breath sending shivers through her body. They stood like that for a heartbeat in perfect stillness before Zelda closed the gap between them. The kiss was chaste. Just a clumsy press of lips that sent a jolt through her body. Zelda began to pull away, when Link’s grip tightened, and he deepened the kiss.

Zelda’s observant mind noted that Link tasted of the cake they had eaten and warm honey before the slip of his tongue pushed any other thought from her mind. A muffled noise escaped her as he pulled her closer, and she moved her hands into hair. She could feel her lungs begin to burn they finally pulled away from each other. Breathing heavily, Zelda moved her hands to his shoulders as Link held her waist. She would have happily continued kissing her appointed knight until she saw stars behind her eyes but was content to be this close.

“Is that an objective enough display, Zelda,” Link said, addressing her with no title for the first time. Her name sounded better than she had imagined in his quiet voice.

“I would say so, though continued observation is needed to be sure.”

“I’m sure we can arrange for that,” Link said as he sat down again, pulling her onto his lap with him.

Zelda cupped Link’s face with one hand, the other slipped into his soft hair. She could see the blush from earlier still stained his cheeks a light pink and knew her own face was similar.

Leaning her forehead against his, Zelda said with a smile “you also have a cute blush.”

Link’s response was to kiss her again. The rest of their tea was abandoned for the afternoon, the two thoroughly enjoying the few moments they had alone. Taking tea with her appointed knight became a daily occurrence after that, with Zelda resolved best to uncover what else made Link blush as deeply as the first time.

Crush ❤️

How would one write a realistic argument?

How to Write a Realistic Argument

Everyone argues.

Whether it be with a friend, sibling, parent, or coworker—arguments usually break out whenever there’s a stark contrast in opinion over certain things, which can happen a lot.

There are a variety of different kinds of arguments involving a wide range of people with different tempers. Because of this, writing arguments can be a bit difficult, but fear not, for this post is here to help!

1. Know The Writing Style of an Argument

For a very serious argument, the characters probably won’t stop and listen to what their opponent has to say.

It’s quick, choppy, and broken—each character shoving their emotions at one another and trying to get their point across without bothering to understand the other side’s opinions.

There should be a lot of em-dashes and italicized words for emphasis, and if it’s between two people, you want as few speech tags as possible; because there’s going to be a lot of back and forth, speech tags can serve to trip up the flow of the argument rather than help them.

When you do want speech tags or if there are multiple people arguing at once here’s some examples you can use:

Roared

Screamed

Yelled

Bellowed

Barked

Hissed

Shouted

Accused

Interrupted

Growled

Snarled

Spat

Screeched

Shrilled

But you also must know that your characters won’t just be standing stock still and yelling at one another; they’re going to be moving around, so here are some things you can describe your character doing during an argument

Expression contorting

Eyes narrowing

Speaking through clenched teeth

Baring their teeth

Lips twisting (into a sneer/into a snarl)

Hands balling into fists

Trembling

Breaking things/knocking stuff over

Pointing accusingly

Shoving

Spittle flying from their mouth

Stamping their feet

Face getting hot

Vein in forehead popping

Blood roaring in their ears/heart pounding

And if you want, to build tension you can put it in a dangerous place, like at the edge of a cliff or something—so you know fully well that if one of them goes too far it may end up with the other’s accidental death.

Keep reading

Recon is starting

#pascalcampion

Korrasami Week Day Two

This idea spiraled into a direction I hadn’t predicted. Hope you’ll enjoy. Cheers :)

—————-

Prompt: physical touch

Korra is six and likes to run her arms over Naga's fur, especially when they are huddled up in front of the fireplace and there's a storm howling outside.

Naga's white wool feels fuzzy on her bare skin, a ticklish sensation that leaves patches of shedding fur during the summer. She doesn't like it. Naga's thin hairs stick to her fingers, making it difficult for her to brush them away.

She prefers to be wrapped in a warm hug by her mother instead, and let Senna slowly run her fingers over her arms. They travel on the inside of her forearms before rising upwards, until they tickle her elbows and the nape of her shoulders.

Korra is eight and she's holding onto her father, standing outside the perimeter of the White Lotus Compound. She doesn't know what's waiting for her behind those metal doors, but she knows her father's touch intimately. Tonraq's huge hands envelop hers completely, leaving his thumb free to brush over her wrist.

She wonders if one day her hands will become like his, callous and hard and impossibly warm even in the snow. She recalls her mother's touch always feels cooler and dry on her skin. She wonders if that's the reason her parents often hold hands, to share warmth and coolness between each other.

The training white tape itches the first time she wraps it around her hands, but she's grateful she has taken the time to tighten it when she punches a wooden pole.

Korra is eleven and stubborn and angry. Master Katara had told her how Aang and her used to go penguin sledding together but the elders won't let her out of the compound in search for an otter penguin. So she decides to sneak out on her own to look for one.

The wind bites at her ears so she wraps one arm around her middle to keep warm. She conjures a small ball of fire on the palm of her hand, focusing on the burst that flows insides her. Her arms tingle in its wake and Korra relishes in the feeling.

Korra is twelve and Ikki's hands feel soft and wet as she grabs her wrist. The child is small and rosy cheeked, bundled up in a pile of furs. Her mother and Master Katara smile and coo at the two of them, while Korra grimaces a smile, wishing she could go back to practice waterbending instead of holding a baby's chubby fingers.

A year later, Korra feels a painful snap as something gives in her arm. She breaks an earthbending stance to curl on the ground, wailing in pain. Master Katara's face is bathed in light as she expertly bends a basin of warm water into a little disk, barely bigger than her wiry hand. The water coats Korra's arm and washes away the tears and the splitting pain, leaving behind a deep coolness in her bones that warms quickly.

Korra is fourteen when she dreams of rough hands that bind her legs together and force a piece of cloth inside her mouth, leaving painful bruises on her arms. A tight hold hauls her out of the bedroom window in her home and pushes her inside a cramped box that reeks of sweat and tears.

It feels like a nightmare on her waking skin, but it shakes her insides like a memory.

Korra is seventeen and her arms burn deliciously under the strain of Naga's pulling reins as the two of them escape the compound in the silent night.

The traditional Air Nomads robes itch her skin, but not as much as the Fire Ferret's uniform does. She always struggles with the protections. The ones with the Future Industries logo are softer, but made of a sturdier material. She feels the urge of scratching nonetheless, if only to chase away the annoyance with the dazzling smile and the emerald eyes.

The eerie mask of Amon glints under the shadow of Avatar Aang's statue. Her arms feel leaden, legs like wood as the chi blockers easily block her attacks. And when Amon takes her bending away, a coil of energy springs forward in her loose limbs, followed by a powerful surge of airbending that leaves her body singing.

Aang's touch is frigid like a ghost's, but warm like a cup of noodles.

Korra is seventeen and the cold of the sea bites at her fingers as they travel towards the South Pole, but Mako's pockets are warm. His hands run almost as hot as hers.

In the dull nights passed on the ship, Korra paces the tight hallways and feels like a caged animal. Asami's light is often lit in her cabin, the girl pouring over documents and numbers until late in the night. Korra watches her rubbing her hands together before offering to make some tea. When their hands brush over traded words and tea cups, Korra notices how cool Asami's feel.

Korra laughs and spills a bowl of popcorn over her shirt as Bolin nudges her from his seat during a thrilling scene of his last mover. The four of them are sitting in the last row of a darkened room with a huge image of Bolin staring down from the screen. The popcorn feels sticky on her bare skin and while trying to clean herself, she ends up making a mess all over Asami's silk shirt. The heiress laughs delightfully as she splutters an apology.

The energy of the spirit portal rumbles under her fingertips and for a moment she fears she won't be able to grasp it, let alone bend it.

Korra is eighteen when she loses the connection to her past lives. Her body shakes emptily, a low drumming that spreads to her core. Each touch is a numb print on her skin and for the first time her hands feel cold.

As she prepares to board the airship with a renewed skip in her steps, she chases down the excitement she feels at the dawn of a new adventure. She lets it collect in her belly and blames it when she can't fall asleep during the first night. Her shoulder is brushing Asami's under the covers, the two of them sharing a bed because of the cramped numbers of bedroom on the airship. Asami's feet are cold as her hands.

Korra is in Zaofu when she dreams about the same sets of rough hands, and the same bruising hold from her childhood nightmares.

The dream shakes her insides like the present.

Hazy and mellow, ready to slip into unconsciousness after the failed kidnapping attempt, Korra imagines Asami's shaking hand hovering over the top of her head. The image evokes a similar memory, one that involves her meditating into the spirit world under Asami's watchful eye.

The sand bites her cheeks as she watches Asami dabs at her sweaty forehead. Her hands are nimble and skilled even with a rusty welding torch, hanging precariously from a swing she had rigged up from scraps.

The same hands pry her fingers loose from the white knuckled grip she has on the phone after her surrender to Zaheer.

Korra is eighteen when poison travels up her limbs. It seeps into her arms and legs, spreading from the frozen circles of her shackles. It burns and burns and aches and burns, leaving a trail of boiling under her skin.

But Korra roars and rises over the pain.

She buckles and trembles and collapses in her wheelchair, armrest padded with a woolen lining. And when she tosses and turns in her bed, she swears she can still feel the poison burning her veins, despite having seen Su removing it from her body.

Asami touches her hands, following the lines of her palms. Korra can't tell if they feel cool to the touch.

Her arms stop hurting after two weeks, but they feel nothing compared to the aching numbness in her legs. Her thoughts are splintered, riddled with pain that freeze and fracture.

She welcomes the biting cold of the South Pole on her twitching fingers with a tired sigh.

Korra is twenty-one when she discovers the poison hadn't completely left her body. She cuts her hair and trudges forward, feeling the mud dampen her socks through the holes in her shoes. She covers her arms with white training tape.

The air of Republic City hangs ominously over her head, but Asami welcomes her back with a warm hug, hands coming to a rest over her shoulders. She's glad she's left her shoulders bare.

She tumbles and bruises in the Air Temple yard, and it feels good to train properly again. After each session of training, Asami's hand brushes hers while she hands her a tea cup.

Korra keeps her arms covered, not feeling brave enough to bare them.

Korra is twenty-one and Asami's body feels small as she curls beneath Korra's chin. The golden light of the new spirit portal hums and glows. In the darkness, Asami holds onto Korra's hands, clutching at her like a lifeline. They are still holding hands when they step into the spirit world.

but so elphaba 

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lena just gets on with her life every episode even tho shes been manipulated into horrible situations by her abusive mother and almost murdered by her brother several times WHILST getting blamed for everything they do NOT TO MENTION been thrown off a fucking balcony and been absolutely sure that she would die in the fall yet she ISNT EVEN FAZED by it is honestly?? unrealistic

Hello. Feel free to not post this if you feel it doesnt belong on your blog. Its just, I barely have any followers and I just want people to know. This is about Beirut. Lebanon was already on the brink of a famine, and in the midst of hyperinflation and economic disaster. This explosion.. its devastating. The word is not big enough. The ruling elite have completely murdered us and destroyed the city. Theyre blocking international aid. You read that right. They let ppl die waiting under debris fo

for days. They blocked rescue missions into the port to help. they didnt even move a finger to help clean up the city - the ppl went down and did it themselves. we need help. there militias are brainwashed and tomorrow the protests start (the mournign period ends today). it is going to be bloody. we have no one but each other, and the international community. People are dying still and everyone feels dead. I am not exagerrating. Everyone is afraid of what tomorrow will bring but we dont care. we have to take to the streets. they have to pay. and we need the world to watch over us because they refuse accountability and have weapons that we dont. But we have to do this, and we will do this, but we need your help. your donations, your push against them by condemning them on social media, we need it. Theyre BLOCKING INTERNATIONAL AID! that news broke me, but then i though of hanging them and felt better. I'm not violent. This is where I've reached. Help us, keep us in the news.

🙏🙏🙏

I made a field guide about the Korok Forest (but it’s magical!)