Do Any Of U Have Decent Recipes That Are Like 5 Ingredients (not Including Spices) And Take 45 Mins Or

snoopy of the day

It bugs me that so many people's default example of published fanfic is 50 Shades of Grey.

What about West Side Story, a famous modern AU of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet?

What about Dante's Inferno, a self-insert RPF if I've ever seen one?

What about Wicked, a pre-canon AU of The Wizard of Oz?

Hell, what about Percy Jackson? There's definitely an argument to be made that that's a modern AU of various Greek myths.

Humans have been writing fanfic as long as they have been telling stories. In about the year 20 BC, our dear Roman poet Ovid wrote the Heroides, a series of aggrieved "letters" from the female characters of famous myths to their respective male heroes. Are you telling me that Ovid, writing a letter from the perspective of Queen Dido to Aeneas -- Aeneas, whose fantastical adventures were put into poem by Virgil -- wasn't writing an outsider-POV fic? A fic that is, in fact, translated in Latin classes world-wide today!

There is so much famous fanfic out there, but people tend to forget that it is fanfic once it becomes mainstream enough. And as a consequence of that, people who aren't into fandom don't see how beautiful fanfic is, and some members of fandom feel shame associated with writing and reading fic. But fanfic is beautiful, and it is something humans have always done, and it is nothing to be ashamed about.

So if you ever find yourself in a situation to give an example of published fic, think outside the box. Remember that published fanfics hide in plain sight; once they're famous enough, we no longer think of them as fanfic. And never forget that fanfic is a very, very old human tradition, and your ancestors who partook in it would not have wanted you to feel ashamed of it.

the signs as natural phenomena

Aries: volcanic lightning

Taurus: penitentes 

Gemini: sun dogs

Cancer: lenticular clouds

Leo: aurora borealis 

Virgo: fallstreak hole

Libra: fire rainbow

Scorpio: fire whirl

Sagittarius: light poles

Capricorn: supercells 

Aquarius: frozen methane bubbles

Pisces: water spouts

EXTREMELY rare w from the uk media

Good morning! I’m salty.

I think we, as a general community, need to start taking this little moment more seriously.

This, right here? This is asking for consent. It’s a legal necessity, yes, but it is also you, the reader, actively consenting to see adult content; and in doing so, saying that you are of an age to see it, and that you’re emotionally capable of handling it.

You find the content you find behind this warning disgusting, horrifying, upsetting, triggering? You consented. You said you could handle it, and you were able to back out at any time. You take responsibility for yourself when you click through this, and so long as the creator used warnings and tags correctly, you bear full responsibility for its impact on you.

“Children are going to lie about their age” is probably true, but that’s the problem of them and the people who are responsible for them, not the people that they lie to.

If you’re not prepared to see adult content, created by and for adults, don’t fucking click through this. And if you do, for all that’s holy, don’t blame anyone else for it.

I did a very quick, sketchy comic because I was extremely inspired by this post. (Credit to @pinkdiamondprince for the original post.)

The entire analogy was just fantastic and so, so accurate, and I wanted to make a comic for it, even if it’s very sketchy because my attention span is nil.

Three... Guards?

Summary: Tifa finds Cloud at the train station in Sector Seven. It’s the first time she’s seen him in seven years. But he’s not alone. Three silver haired boys protected him. Three silver haired boys that triggered memories of her hometown. Of steel through her chest. Of SOLDIER First Class.

Of Him.

Inspired by this prompt by @im-totally-not-an-alien .  

Please Enjoy!

…

Chapter 1: Punishment

This wasn’t part of the plan. This was one hundred thousand percent not part of the plan. They were supposed to use Mother’s cells and become Him. It was that simple. Basic. Elementary. And they almost had it. How did everything go wrong? Why was it so complicated? 

If that stupid president didn’t make that shot. If Mother's box stayed intact. If they took a different turn and avoided the decommissioned mako reactor. If they didn’t slip off the ledge. If that black sheep of a big brother didn't gain the upper hand. If he managed to save them from falling into the remaining Lifestream. If that brother was successful. 

If.

If.

If.

These scenarios wouldn’t help them now. They couldn’t waste time thinking about ‘possibilities’ when reality screamed in front of them. 

Big Brother needed help. After submersion in the Lifestream, the three of them found themselves spit out somewhere in the wasteland surrounding Midgar. The entire city stood proudly, Shinra Tower and the Sector Seven plate unified and composed and supported. Like the city itself was reborn along the horizon. Whatever it was, it would be a long walk back. And was it just them, or did everything seem… bigger? Even the few cliffs and rogue plants in the ruined land seemed larger than before. They turned to each other for explanation and…

…What?

What?! 

They looked like children, short and small! As old as the children they healed! What did the Lifestream do to them?! They understood some kind of retaliation was coming but why this. 

Great. The oldest was about to cry again, completely panicked and losing his very loose grip on his emotions. The middle was far too calm, but even that facade started to crack when he noticed none of them had any weapons. The youngest, in all honesty, was ready to strangle every living thing, but that would have to come later, when they eventually made their way into the city. Making it across this worthless plain would be a lot harder as pint sized packages with no vehicles, but they didn’t find any other options. Was the Planet trying to ‘walk’ them to death?

Well, no. They quickly stumbled across a body, skin a soft green and birds picking at the rotting flesh. It must’ve been dead for at least a day. The man had black hair, a SOLDIER uniform, dozens of dried bullet wounds that vultures took full advantage of, and a solid blade of the sword Big Brother fought with. The same one they found, and kicked to the ground, when pursuing him. The eldest grew curious. Approaching without hesitation, he broke the grip of the corpse and lifted the blade, though holding it to attention forced his body to shake in struggle. 

“Put it down,” The youngest spat. The older one dropped the sword immediately in surprise, the hunk of metal clattering and ringing as it fell. The birds scattered, flying nearby for the moment these children left. 

“Don’t scare me like that!” 

The youngest rolled his eyes and stayed silent, knowing that if he said a single word back, they'd all have to deal with his tears. They didn’t have time for that.

“Hey, Kadaj…?”

“What now?” The boy immediately turned to the other brother, annoyed and tired of all the weird stuff that kept happening today. A strong part increasingly frustrated at his failure to carry out Mother’s plan before suddenly appearing outside Midgar.

“Is that… Big Brother…?” 

Kadaj’s face soured with confusion and he moved to observe the being. But his breath hitched the moment blonde spikey hair came into view. At the silent response, the eldest followed, eyes wide and completely lost upon seeing the man.

It was. It was him, his body leaning against the rocks and his head low. Like them, he wasn’t the same either. He was younger and clearly weaker to start. His skin was dangerously dry, his lips peeling around rapid shallow breaths, his eyes sunken and darkened. The middle child moved his arm and lifted his head in analysis. 

“He seems dehydrated…” He stated simply, his voice naturally quiet and lulling as it had been before. “He might die out here…”

Kadaj stared at the unconscious body. All his questions about this punishment snapped into place, completing the puzzle with a single realization. Too much had already changed. They couldn’t risk any greater ‘butterfly effect’ without risking wherever Mother was. “Loz, pick him up. We’re taking him to Midgar.”

The eldest acted immediately. “I got it.”

“Do you think he knows where Mother is…?”

“No. But I think he’s our best chance at finding her. He always seems to be around- what are you doing?”

Loz managed to lift Big Brother’s arm over his shoulder, but the other half practically dragged through the dirt. 

Kadaj glanced at the middle sibling. “Yazoo.”

He nodded, already adjusting to help.

“No, I got it,” Loz grumbled, turning the body just out of reach.

“You do not got it. Everything’s a mess.” He countered with a snip in his voice, approaching the blade. “I’ll grab his sword. Let’s go.”

Yazoo aided as much as he could with his slightly shorter height than his brother, balancing the blonde between them. Kadaj picked up the hilt, dragging the tip on the ground, not wasting energy trying to lift it or prevent the horrid wear on the blade itself. They needed water, food, probably gil, and any weapons they could get their hands on, if they wanted a chance at saving Big Brother.

It was a long way to Midgar.

* * * 

The smell of garbage and rot under the plate always filled the air, smog skewing the natural light from the gaps within the structure. The dirt roads and barely functioning homes were just a part of life here. A roof was almost a luxury. Afterall, it wasn’t like they got any rain or snow here. Monsters within the dumps were usually problems, but communities set up watches and hunting sessions to protect the normal civilian life.Life was, to an extent, peaceful. 

Besides the resistance the black haired woman housed under her bar, a bar she currently needed to stock. 

Upper plate always had the best product anyway. This was routine by now. Every Monday and Thursday, she made her way to the train station, took it to Sector Zero, collected what she needed, and headed back. An ever mundane task compared to the actual looting of Shinra facilities her friends conducted at night, and housed spoils beneath her workplace. 

Today, this simple life flipped on its head. 

She dropped the empty box in her arms. There was no mistaking it. He changed. He grew, but he still kept his blonde hair spiky as a palm tree. He was taller, stronger by the shape of his muscles, clothed head to toe in SOLDIER fatigues, just as he promised all those years ago. His skin was pale, but he still had color in his face. His mako blue eyes were open but empty, lost, hollow. But it was still Cloud Strife in front of her, leaning against that platform.

But…who were the three boys with him? 

All of their hair shined with perfect mercury. They couldn’t be older than ten, shorter in stature, but stronger than they seemed at first glance. One had long hair, one only had it to his shoulders, but the last, and the bulkiest, had his cut short and pushed up. 

For a moment, she felt herself distracted from Cloud, when the smallest glared daggers directly into her eyes, mako blue inhuman needles staring straight into her soul.

He looked like Him. They all looked like Him.

They figured someone would come for Big Brother eventually, but he couldn’t be left alone. Nor would they let him be alone. Occasionally, he mumbled incomprehensibly, calling out to something or someone. They just ignored it. Yazoo acted caringly and offered bottled water directly to his chapped lips, but he always took too small a sip than he needed, if he drank any at all. Loz stayed close while surveying the people disembarking the trains, watching for someone to recognize their brother. Kadaj did the same with the crowd coming from the slums, which is how he alone found himself locked in a staring contest with one of their enemies. 

He tensed his hand, ready to whip out the pocket knife he found in the rubble and garbage. “What do you want?” 

The other two looked over immediately. 

His voice cut her like a knife, the anger, almost malice behind her catching her off guard. Dark. Cruel. Burning. “I- I…” Her heart suddenly pounded in her chest, reacting to her memories and leaking panic slowly into her mind. For now it was just anxiety, but she felt it growing. She needed to protect Cloud. She needed him before she let this show. “Is- Is that Cloud?”

They nodded, still skeptical, still defending. Loz approached as well, blocking part of her view but observing carefully. 

“H- How did you find him? Is he okay?”

“We found him unconscious in the planes beyond Midgar…” Yazoo explained, earning a soft glare from Kadaj. “It didn’t seem like he would make it, and well… we chose to bring him here…”

“I can help him,” She explained quickly as she took a step forward, but the two in front of her blocked her path. “I live nearby. I can take him from here and make him better.”

“You are not taking Big Brother!” Loz demanded, clenching his fists and standing at the ready. 

Big Brother? Bewilderment claimed her expression. Cloud didn’t have any siblings. That didn’t make any sense. “What are you talking about?”

“Ti…fa…?”

Her breath hitched, and all of them snapped their eyes to the stirring blonde. 

“T-Tifa…?” Cloud pushed himself to his feet too quickly, stumbling forward from the unbalanced blood rush. Yazoo grabbed his arm to stabilize him. Once on his feet, he didn't react to the boy at all. His blue eyes instantly glued to the black haired woman. 

The two guarding boys parted and let Tifa run to Cloud. 

“Cloud, it’s really you!” She was so happy she almost jumped into his arms, but he was a bit wobbly on his feet, his mind still partially dull with weak vertigo from his time in the wasteland. 

His body nearly collapsed on her, and she found her arms wrapped around him in support rather than a hug. “S-Sorry…” His eyes blurred as he tried to lift himself back to his feet. 

Did he really just apologize for fainting?

“I’m glad you’re okay…”

Tifa squeezed him softly before adjusting him over her shoulder. “Don’t be sorry. Come on. We’re going to my place, okay? I’ll patch you up there…”

He gave a reluctant, embarrassed nod. But he lost consciousness immediately after, the moment Tifa took her first step away from the track.

Now, all three boys blocked her path in a single impenetrable wall. A shaky and unnerved sigh that left her breath. She didn’t like them. She didn’t like the feeling in her gut or the memories they brought. But, they did save Cloud, and they clearly protected him from anything they could. Maybe that ‘big brother’ statement was just a story they fabricated to stay with him, especially since they look nothing like him. Maybe, since they brought him all the way to Midgar, they wanted to confirm that he was okay. She hoped they’d leave after that. She prayed.

“You guys too. Come on.”

All three remnants surrounded her and Cloud, the smaller two in front and the largest behind. They still acted like guards. But at least the long haired one picked up the box she completely forgot about as they headed for the bar in the Sector Seven slums.

.

.

.

.

Thanks for reading!

To be continued…

Author's note: It's my first time writing the remnants! I've been wanting to for a while but I never knew how to apply their personalities to most situations. I also have a very nostalgic attachment to Advent Children (music, fight scenes, some of the voice acting) so I wanted to do this right, not just a joke and not where I need to fill in most of the world, at least to start. Thus: another adapted time travel AU. 

This won't be too many chapters (I think) but I hope it's a good time. Thanks for reading!

We will never know their names.

The first victim could not have been recorded, for there was no written language to record it. They were someone’s daughter, or son, and someone’s friend, and they were loved by those around them. And they were in pain, covered in rashes, confused, scared, not knowing why this was happening to them or what they could do about it - victim of a mad, inhuman god. There was nothing to be done - humanity was not strong enough, not aware enough, not knowledgeable enough, to fight back against a monster that could not be seen.

It was in Ancient Egypt, where it attacked slave and pharaoh alike. In Rome, it effortlessly decimated armies. It killed in Syria. It killed in Moscow.  In India, five million dead. It killed a thousand Europeans every day in the 18th century. It killed more than fifty million Native Americans. From the Peloponnesian War to the Civil War, it slew more soldiers and civilians than any weapon, any soldier, any army (Not that this stopped the most foolish and empty souls from attempting to harness the demon as a weapon against their enemies).

Cultures grew and faltered, and it remained. Empires rose and fell, and it thrived. Ideologies waxed and waned, but it did not care. Kill. Maim. Spread. An ancient, mad god, hidden from view, that could not be fought, could not be confronted, could not even be comprehended. Not the only one of its kind, but the most devastating.

For a long time, there was no hope - only the bitter, hollow endurance of survivors.

In China, in the 10th century, humanity began to fight back.

It was observed that survivors of the mad god’s curse would never be touched again: they had taken a portion of that power into themselves, and were so protected from it. Not only that, but this power could be shared by consuming a remnant of the wounds. There was a price, for you could not take the god’s power without first defeating it - but a smaller battle, on humanity’s terms. By the 16th century, the technique spread, to India, across Asia, the Ottoman Empire and, in the 18th century, Europe. In 1796, a more powerful technique was discovered by Edward Jenner.

An idea began to take hold: Perhaps the ancient god could be killed.

A whisper became a voice; a voice became a call; a call became a battle cry, sweeping across villages, cities, nations. Humanity began to cooperate, spreading the protective power across the globe, dispatching masters of the craft to protect whole populations. People who had once been sworn enemies joined in common cause for this one battle. Governments mandated that all citizens protect themselves, for giving the ancient enemy a single life would put millions in danger.

And, inch by inch, humanity drove its enemy back. Fewer friends wept; Fewer neighbors were crippled; Fewer parents had to bury their children.

At the dawn of the 20th century, for the first time, humanity banished the enemy from entire regions of the world. Humanity faltered many times in its efforts, but there individuals who never gave up, who fought for the dream of a world where no child or loved one would ever fear the demon ever again. Viktor Zhdanov, who called for humanity to unite in a final push against the demon; The great tactician Karel Raška, who conceived of a strategy to annihilate the enemy; Donald Henderson, who led the efforts of those final days.

The enemy grew weaker. Millions became thousands, thousands became dozens. And then, when the enemy did strike, scores of humans came forth to defy it, protecting all those whom it might endanger.

The enemy’s last attack in the wild was on Ali Maow Maalin, in 1977. For months afterwards, dedicated humans swept the surrounding area, seeking out any last, desperate hiding place where the enemy might yet remain.

They found none.

35 years ago, on December 9th, 1979, humanity declared victory.

This one evil, the horror from beyond memory, the monster that took 500 million people from this world - was destroyed.

You are a member of the species that did that. Never forget what we are capable of, when we band together and declare battle on what is broken in the world.

Happy Smallpox Eradication Day.

So my sister wants to start sewing more, because

a. She’s 5′ 11″ and can never find pants long enough for her legs or shirts long enough for her arms.

b. She hates synthetic fibers as much as I do and it’s difficult to find natural fiber clothes that aren’t made of cotton

c. She’s a biologist and would physically fistfight microplastics if given half a chance

So her gift from mom and dad for her birthday was a sewing machine. Not a super expensive one but a good solid serviceable one.

And recently she asked “So where do I GET wool or linen and thread that isn’t polyester” and mom was like ‘go ask your sister’

And I, of course, crashed into the group text like “GET A PEN I HAVE WEBSITES FOR U” and honestly I’m thrilled about this

twenty years across the sea