This Is For That Ask Thingy You Reblogged.

This is for that ask thingy you reblogged.

I hope this doesn't sound offensive or anything, but I think you remind me a lot of how my mom can be! (Not that you are her or anything but just the character.)

I was pinning down why I often ramble a lot in your comment sections (sorry about that, by the way. I am usually not like that so if I talk a lot that means I think a person is pretty cool!)

You give a similar vibe of no nonsense, introversion and lack of clinginess, organization, and head over heart like she does. And your love of reading of course!

(again, sorry if this is weird or something, I don't mean it in an offensive way.)

I'm not offended at all!

Your rambling doesn't bother me, and I also ramble, so I'd say we're about even. (Cool, you say? Thanks. I doubt that I'm as cool in any usual sense in real life. I can actually be fairly boring, compared to most people in truth.)

I'm not sure if I'm truly no-nonsense, but the rest seems to hold true. Though, I'd guess that I'm likely not as organized as I appear to be.

We are gathered here today because SOMEBODY *glares at coffin* couldn’t stay alive.

a post-doc was doing a guest seminar at my institute and at the beginning of his presentation he was explaining why he chose birds for his evolutionary analysis - so he said "well first of all, because birds are the best and most interesting animals and it's fun to study them" and a few professors in the room gave him a very serious nod

Look, I know this is practically the antithesis of Rafal's character (with his whole "pirates are pests and subpar villain material" ideas and pirates being the opposite of his "orderly civilization" line of thought) but...

If I haven't convinced anyone based on premise alone, here's a drafted excerpt for the heck of it:

The iron stench of blood clung thick in the air, clung to Rafal’s new garments.

Craning his neck upwards at the barque, Rhian could’ve sworn his brother’s clothes smelt of blood, but he couldn’t see a trace of blood on him. Just, streaks of—blue—a strange, deep, sapphire blue on his clothes, tinging the edges of his hair, a spray of an inky substance speckling his jawline and the side of his face, and smears of blue on the… Night Crawlers assembled behind him.

And by the Storian’s grace, were those real Night Crawlers? He’d never seen them outside of storybooks. It was like Rafal had dredged himself out of a storybook, out of the deep undersea, like a myth among myths.

Rhian would have concluded it was blood, but it couldn’t be, could it?

Thoughts?