My headcanon is that I am an excellent Draco Malfoy, and I am a picky eater, therefore in this essay I will –
Nah actually I have never thought about Draco as a picky eater before this ask, but now that it’s in my head, I can imagine this particular sort of image of him. Like, I imagine he’d be picky in the sort of way where it’s all brushed off as ‘refined tastes,’ and he doesn’t think he’s picky at all, because I definitely think of him as well-fed and raised on gourmet, of course, plus he’s always getting sweets from home, et cetera, so he probably thinks he’s a robust eater. But all the same whenever he encounters something unfamiliar or foreign or prepared in the wrong way (ie, not how they make it at home) it becomes reproachable to him, and he can’t tolerate it. He frames it as the food being inferior and him having superior taste buds. If someone tried to feed him a hamburger he’d probably react like Ron around spiders.
Additionally, I imagine his tastes dwindle and diminish starting around sixth year when he becomes utterly socially isolated and depressed during his quest for Voldemort. Everything starts tasting like watery celery or pale gruel and he can’t summon an appetite. That probably impacts him so heavily that for years after his appetite and taste ranges are significantly shrunken and he remains on the edge of underfed for quite a while.
joseph kavinsky + movies for the ask thing!! & Enjolras + cats
Kavinsky will relish in almost any movie with a shit ton of explosions or death or monsters (sex drugs rock n roll etc), but above all he mostly stans old gangster movies. He’ll memorize lines from all of what he considers “the greats,” complete with acting out machine gun noises. He also secretly harbors a soft spot for classic, Golden-Age cinema because it reminds him of his mother at her best.
Enjolras has a deep-seated private desire to be good with cats. He is decidedly not. Aside from being allergic he is essentially a magnet for cat scratches and can’t seem to convince a single one to let him hold it. Poor guy.
I'm making this because most of the other one I made feels really uncreative. Especially the power I gave him.
So...
Jonesy has talent with spiders (and other arachnids).
His mother, while pregnant with him, accidently ticked off an ill mannered and in a hurry witch. The witch cursed her unborn child with spiders but didn't have time to stick around and get specific. His mom brushed off the incident quickly enough.
Since birth, Jonesy could telepathically communicate with spiders. Since the majority of spiders aren't big on talking much and there's only a few of them in any given room, he didn't think much of it.
By the time he was 10, Jonesy could command near by spiders. Which while kinda interesting isn't nearly as cool as what his friends could do. Around this time he had to stop eating pancakes because everytime he cooked them or was present in the house during their creation, they'd get vaguely spider-shaped markings and had the texture and appearance of bug guts on the inside. Other pancakes were taken off the menu because of the association.
By the time he was 12, Jonesy learned how to make spiders. By drawing, folding, cutting, carving, painting, or writing about spiders he could make them appear. These made spiders always had properties associated with the medium used to make them.
Not long after this discovery, Jonesy started attracting spiders in his sleep. Native spiders, foreign spiders, spider cryptids, alien spiders, extra dimensional spiders. Teeny spiders, little spiders, big spiders, huge spiders... After waking up one morning to find an inch of spiders covering every surface that spiders could cling to in the house, Jonesy's parents moved. After another week they moved again. They continued to move nearly every week as the spiders gathered where they were currently staying, no matter where they went.
Eventually a Secret Scientist studying the "Spider Houses" left in their wake tracks them down and offers to try and help them with their problem. Things only improve a little once Jonesy figures out how to send the spiders elsewhere. Jonesy ends up becoming an apprentice of the Secret Scientist while working with her.
By the time he's 16, he gets his talent under enough control that spiders only layer places he's stayed at for over a month instead of on a weekly basis. Jonesy can also turn any solid or liquid he touches into spider golems at will. He can presumably transform anything at all into spider golems, but he'd rather not.
While on assignment in a desert he starts to hear scorpions and mites as well...
I haven't edited this and yet my only worry is that I've fucked up my description... That and some of these lines I'll never be happy with.
~~
He does not want to be out here. The night is dark and misty, a swirling cloud of moisture and ink blackness that even the floodlights cannot pierce and he knows as he sits that somewhere in that shadowy expanse the enemy is watching. All glowing eyes, teeth, and claws, waiting to bare down on him. To split his stomach, pierce his throat, have his steaming intestines trail from its jaws and slid down its gaping maw.
His grip on his weapon tightens.
Sentry duty was never fun, long hours alone in the dead of night, bored out of your skull, but at least before they had been peaceful. Now, now the forest is silent where it had once been full of life. Birds do not call, insects do not chirp, nobody has seen a kayr in days. They all know what lies outside the gate, watching them, waiting for them, but not attacking. Nobody knows why.
He has never seen one of them, but his best friend swears he has. The beast had drug a kayr to the edge of the forest, directly in front of the gate, as he stood guard. It was massive, he said, all dark skin and rippling muscle, fangs like hunting knives, eyes like a fire, and it had watched him. Just, stared as it ate its prey, bones and all. Only when the creature had slipped silently and suddenly back into the brush had he realized he hadn’t so much as breathed under that stare. Several of their squad mates think he’s a liar trying to scare them.
It’s worked.
If the beast truly watched him from across the gate then they know where they are. They know, and are doing nothing. He cannot shake the idea that their foes are toying with them.
He thinks of the wall, thick and solid, and briefly entertains the though that they cannot get in, but the idea flits away like one of the bugs that have disappeared. All their forts have the same giant wall containing them and nobody lives within this wall, soldier or civilian, who does not know the fate of those fortresses. One by one each has gone silent, some suddenly stopping contact, others getting out a last distress signal before they were overtaken.
Those are the worst. He has heard one of these transmissions. The speaker’s sobs will haunt him for as long as he lives.
The last transmission had come five days ago, the last refugees four. Three days ago the kayr disappeared. They have shored up their defenses as best they can in the meanwhile, piling goods and scrap against the gate with only a small spot for a guard. Long before they had rigged the top of the wall with razor wire and fire, and yesterday a group of men was sent to circle them with more wire.
They succeeded.
They never made it back inside.
His heart stops as a splash of color appears through the mist. Twin points of blue floating in the darkness. Slowly, they begin to grow, coming closer, and he finds he cannot look away as the hulking form slides gracefully from the night. Its thick, dark skin is littered with golden stripes and jagged scars that shine in the floodlights, lights that glint off its fangs as it flexes its jaw. A thick ridge of hair runs down its back, long tail following behind, cutting through the mist like a saber as it sways. Before he can breathe the creature is at the gate, watching him with those glowing eyes just as he watches it. It lifts a mighty paw, easily the size of his hand and armed with knife-like claws, and places it gently on the gate. Now he understands how his friend could be so entranced. This creature is massive and magnificent, every movement radiating with strength and power, and so much intelligence is reflected in its eyes. He does not even think before lifting his hand, placing it opposite the great paw.
“Amazing…” His voice is quiet and airy and the beast’s lips twitch in response. It begins to purr, head tilting to the side, and he can almost believe the creature is laughing as it peers over his shoulder
thenixkat said: It is a beloved game and cheating is punishable by law. There is some betting by the spectators but betting important items is frowned upon.
thenixkat said: There’s a goalie for each team at least 2runners per team who try and get the ball to the other side+at least 3guards who protect their runners from the other team’s guards and try to stop the other team’s runners.Only runners+goalies touch the ball
Random thought. The reason Osmos V is a death world and so much managed to survive the proto2s? Because they'd all already had to evolve to handle the Choo-a-loo's *other* bioweapons. (You can't tell me they didn't start off using them on each other...)
Yes, it was at one point filled with mostly normal wildlife. Most of the terrestrial predators (that would sneak into compounds designed to defend against aerial threats) and toxic plants(for making better poisons) are the products of bioengineering.
thenixkat said: I’ve thought a little about it and the things I came up with were: wrestling, foot races, swimming races, diving contests, tag +hide n’ seek, something like rodeos, and a game that’s a like a cross between soccer, football, and hockey?
