To consider Europe a single being is the worst you could do. Everybody hates everybody. The British hate immigrants, Germans hate Italians, Italians hate the French and other Italians, the French hate everyone else
In conclusion
Eurovision is the battleground on which the old hatreds are rekindled.
Also, this is quite frankly the most accurate post i’ve ever seen in my life.
ok but has anyone considered… stormtrooper memes. stormtroopers with injokes. stormtroopers quietly passing along little nudges and references while they’re standing guard or patrolling endless hallways. hux pausing halfway through a speech, suspiciously— he just heard a very tiny, staticy giggle. like,
(standing in front of blank wall or empty box) nothing to see here, move along
let’s just put that in the back pocket for now mmkay
*eats ration bar* mm mmm tastes like [dead comrade]
you can’t be mean to me on my birthday
*force chokes a problem*
(between heavy darth vader wheezes) i’m not mad, i’m just disappointed.
(when something falls over) rebel scum!
*points at large machine* mom
it’s party time (everyone stands perfectly still for at least a minute)
(when friend come into the room) you’re surplus to requirements
I have lived to see the Prime Directive implemented on Mars, a warp drive break the laws of physics, and a legal battle with Klingon insults in the briefings.
As I get older I’m finding that a lot of the “intellectuals” I used to admire are actually just condescending and pretentious. And also realizing how much more important it is to be present, considerate, and empathetic because nobody really knows what they’re talking about and anyone who claims to know everything about anything is feeding you bs.
“When I was young, I admired clever people. Now that I am old, I admire kind people.”
Okay, this is in incredibly petty nitpick, but: if you’re writing a fantasy setting with same-sex marriage, a same-sex noble or royal couple typically would not have titles of the same rank - e.g., a prince and a prince, or two queens.
It depends on which system of ranking you use, of course (there are several), but in most systems there’s actually a rule covering this scenario: in the event that a consort’s courtesy title being of the same rank as their spouse’s would potentially create confusion over who holds the title by right and who by courtesy, the consort instead receives the next-highest title on the ladder.
So the husband of a prince would be a duke; the wife of a queen, a princess; and so forth.
(You actually see this rule in practice in the United Kingdom, albeit not in the context of a same-sex marriage; the Queen’s husband is styled a prince because if he were a king, folks might get confused about which of them was the reigning monarch.)
The only common situation where you’d expect to see, for example, two queens in the same marriage is if the reigning monarchs of two different realms married each other - and even then, you’d more likely end up with a complicated arrangement where each queen is technically a princess of the other’s realm in addition to being queen of her own.
You’ve gotta keep it nice and unambiguous who’s actually in charge!
What if oxygen is poisonous and it just takes 75-100 years to kill us?
My science teacher said he thinks that’s true actually
Yeah this is actually pretty much exactly what is going on. It’s why anti-oxidants are such a big deal. Bonus fact: oxygen oxidizes stuff in your cells or, in other words, it’s not toxic, just setting you on fire
very very slowly.
What if there are aliens out there but they subsist on entirely different substances and they’re just scared as shit of us and our crazy ass hell planet? Once in a while some alien anthropologist type suggests checking out the people on this inhabited planet out towards the galaxy’s edge. The other aliens just look at the naive academic with horror. No!! We do not go to that world. That is where the DEATH BREATHERS live. They recreationally consume poisons and are more or less composed of biological fire. Their atmosphere is made of rocket fuel. We must leave the DEATH BREATHERS in peace. Do not go there. Do not.
I tend to always reblog posts about humans being terrifying weirdos to aliens.
okay but…that is actually what went down on earth about 2.5 billion years ago.
Earth was doing just fine with a mostly nitrogen/carbon dioxide atmosphere and everyone was happy to go on living in anaerobic bliss and then cyanobacteria suddenly hit the scene, altered the atmosphere composition so that there was a ton of oxygen gas and killed practically everything (97% or more of all species on earth).
We are literally descendants of the DEATH BREATHERS and cyanobacteria is our deadly mother.
The cyanobacteria holocaust is so big, it doesn’t even have a cool name; it’s just called “The Great Oxygenation Event”; the *second* most apocalyptic extinction event in our planet’s history is the one that’s called THE GREAT DYING (the Permian-Triassic event, about 252 million years ago).
This shit makes like the rock-throwing that wiped out the dinosaurs look like kindergarten.
OH HOW I LOVE THIS POST. It makes me so much happier about being alive. I AM BURNING VERY SLOWLY. *hugs it*
I just realized……Hydra knew super-soldiers could survive despite being cryogenically frozen, because they did it to the Winter Soldier.
So they knew for certain that Captain America was alive after he crashed the plane in the Arctic.
I find the timing of Cap’s find very suspicious.
I personally believe Obadiah Stane was somewhat affiliated with Hydra (and had them send the Winter Soldier to have Howard killed). And he could easily influence where Howard searched for Steve and the plane.
I believe that Obadiah misdirected Howard intentionally whenever it looled like he was close, bc Hydra didn’t want Captain America back.
It was only when Obadiah died that SHIELD found Cap.
this… makes soooo much sense, but also, FUCK! I didn’t need this pain.
On the flipside, imagine if Hydra, knowing just how much a serumed up person can survive, actively was looking for Steve… and they found him first. Imagine Steve barely-conscious and still trembling with bone-deep cold as he’s stuffed into The Chair for the first time.
It doesn’t work as expected the first time (Steve thought the grave was supposed to be cold and final but instead he’s dying by inches with electricity burning through his veins, twisting whips of fire tearing through his brain) so the Hydra scientists note down their results and hunker down for a fullscale Science Experiment!
They recalibrate and try again.
And again.
And again.
Meanwhile Steve tries to hold it all together. He knows that he’s surprised to be alive (in the worst moments he wishes he wasn’t). He knows he was fighting a war (he’s pretty sure they must have lost). He knows that nobody is coming for him (not the kid from Brooklyn, the only one who really cared about HIM is, well…)
(And nobody’s coming after the soldier, the war hero, the propaganda machine, that came after. Who would believe he could survive that crash? The ice?)
(Even if he lives through this, the man that used to be Captain America isn’t sure how much of Steve Rogers will be left.)
After a few months, one scientist gets the bright idea to bring in the Original for comparative testing. The new Subject goes absolutely ballistic the first time he sees the Winter Soldier.
Focused on restraining their new Subject, none of the scientists catch the flicker of expression (emotion) that dances over the Original’s face.
It’s three weeks before they leave the two alone together without muzzles to prevent biting (from the Winter Soldier) or speech (from the Subject). The higher-ups are annoyed by the number of otherwise promising recruits who have requested transfers after five minutes of talking to (or being talked at by) the Subject.
“I know you,” the Winter Soldier says firmly. After three weeks of observation he’s sure in this if not much else. They’ve wiped him a few times for fresh data, but he’s been clinging tenaciously to what little he can conjure up of that face, that voice, that attitude.
(‘Mouthy’ is the word that keeps springing up.)
(And punk. Or jerk? He’s not sure why those words make his lips twitch up at the corners.)
“You do,” the other man, the one who once was Steve Rogers and might be again. “You know me, and we…we’re gonna get out of here. Together.”
I’m the type of girlfriend who always just wants to annoy you like let me hold your fucking hand and let me just hug your back and put my head under your shirt or bite your shoulder or bite your nose or hug your head or some shit idk i love you hoe
has to literally be dragged home at the end of the night because they refuse to acknowledge that the party has ended and they’re the only person still there
2. Blissful Drunk
does nothing but laugh
just happy to be included
too good for this world
loves you so much even though they just met you four minutes ago
probably also does acid
3. Emotional Drunk
not great at parties
is either crying tears of sorrow bc there’s no chips left or crying tears of gratitude bc someone showed them where the bathroom is
brings out everyone’s inner mother
4. Parent Drunk
keeps everyone’s shit together
everyone thinks they’re sober but they’ve actually had 5 shots in an hour
knows when u need to go home and will make sure you get there
holds back your hair when you’re vomiting at 3am
5. Slutty Drunk
never gets cold
makeup never smudges
never has to buy their own drinks
you think they’re sloppy and have no idea what they’re doing but every move is calculated and intentional
6. Sloppy Drunk
wasted by 10pm
needs to be taken home early
will drink anything you give them as long as there’s alcohol in it
So, I’ve had the flu for like a week (I’m still not well and I’m quite worried about going in to work tomorrow but having been absent for two weeks, I think it’s time I made the attempt) and I have alternated between semi-lucid and SUPER ANXIOUS depending on when I took my cold medication. Like, I’m flipping my shit over something that’s not due at work until mid-May.
But one of the few benefits of having dealt with depression for twenty years is that I know when something I’m feeling is unrealistic; not enough to help, but enough to prevent myself from doing stupid shit, which is almost as good.
So I, knowing that my anxiety was irrational, googled “Anxiety” and “Flu” and APPARENTLY THE FLU CAN GIVE YOU ANXIETY. And not just like, “oh shit I’m sick and stuff is building up” anxiety. Like literal biological Capital-A Anxiety. It seems that cytokines, which are a kind of cell protein, are linked to anxiety and depression, and are released in way higher numbers when you’re sick. I haven’t sought out the studies yet, but there are studies which indicate that reports of depression actually peak during high flu season.
So if you’re sick and freaked out, FYI, there’s probably a stronger biological link than you suspected. Blame it on the cytokines!
the solar system is probably the most purely, simply fun exploratory experience humans will ever get to have, because there’s nobody there! there’s no colonialism and we don’t have to worry about aliens yet, so its just. fun!
we just land a robot on an empty planet and make it do wheelies and every few days we find like a cool rock and scientists yell about it on twitter
that point in the semester where everything is like
ever since I made this post it gets reblogged when there’s about 3 weeks left before finals which lets me know that it’s that point of the semester again
Why isn’t using sign language more common in society? like??? Not even just communicating within deaf communities but for everybody to use with anybody?
I feel like this should be standard learning material for those working in loud workplaces or with machinery, or maybe idk for talking underwater or when someone else can’t hear you at a concert. Or what about when somebody is having a panic attack and can’t talk, or just isn’t all that comfortable with voicing their feelings?
Why isn’t nonverbal communication more integrated into our society? Cause it should be.
we were little girls with messy hair who wanted to shoot lasers at the people who hurt us. we made our barbies fly, made them spies, made them as strong as we wanted to be. they could stand up to the bullies. when we were older, we would ask, “where are the female superheroes?”
“it’s just a movie,” we were assured, “and what’s wrong with being the girl next door?”
we were angry adolescents with no safe direction to lash out in. we were not allowed to be violent. those of us who turned to our playstation were embarrassed for it. many of us were bullied. many of us turned to fantasy. when we were older, we would ask, “why is there only one playable girl character in this whole game?”
“video games are art,” we were sneered at, “i’m sick of these fake gamer girls ruining our media.”
we were high school girls who were worried we weren’t being kissed fast enough, even at 15. we felt shame boil up around our ears when men leaned out of cars to sling slurs at us. we wanted to feel good about ourselves but were sent home for showing our shoulders. what were we telling people by being so in love with our bodies that we showed them off in any small way. when we were older, we would ask, “why does this advertisement for socks have a barely-18-year-old girl lying mostly-naked on a bed?” we saw our own 18-year-old self, who could barely kiss right and still trembled about sex.
“relax,” we were told, “if you don’t like it, don’t look. if you’re mad they’re selling you your clothes like this, just don’t buy from them.”
we turned into tired adults. we have our fires burnt out. we have explained and explained until our tongues turned numb why we deserve to be able to live without fear. we got sick of being teachers. any dent we made was quickly refilled. we were sick of trying to talk to people who would never change their minds about us. we were sick of it. and we still asked: “where am i? where are the people who look like me?”
i once was in a coffee shop sighing to a friend, “why don’t people get that not every girl has the same body or same metabolic system” and i was interrupted by a large man who has no idea how i eat or how much i weigh or how healthy i might be, and he loudly and briskly informed me, “Victoria’s Secret models have a more common body type than you think. If you’re so pissed about not being like the girls on tv, how about you change what you look like?” i had gone 6 days without eating.
so we made it up. we gave barbie a cape and our spotted dog the ability to control the weather. we wrote barely-legible fanfiction about vampires who were also terribly in love with us - because we were perfect in this world, unlike the mess of what really was - we crafted entire sub-stories about how the main characters in our favorite universes were secretly girls in disguise. we made 17-year-old characters who would cut the throats of anyone who hurt them. we drew pictures of women in full, angry armor. we wrote bad poems about the girls we loved and the ones we were jealous of. we hurt ourselves often, were excellent at denying ourselves in the name of something. we only ate salad, we wouldn’t touch grease, we didn’t buy certain things, didn’t get dirty. we used things to fill the gaps. bath bombs. fussy boots. venti iced mocha half-caf.
we made it up. we flooded the market. we put up pictures of ourselves smiling, with messy hair and silly faces, with back fat, with smudged makeup. we made videos perfecting our lips. we made art of possible fashion - all with pockets.
a few girls take selfies at a sports event. they are slandered across the news for it.
can you imagine? can you imagine the selfishness? the audacity? the self-possession one must feel to take a picture of themselves where they control everything?
we don’t belong. images of us have to be photoshopped. made in buildings with perfect lighting. a young girl in underwear. we don’t belong. we don’t exist. keep quiet. if you don’t like it, don’t look at it.
The chills won’t stop, pls boost this piece of brilliance all over the interwebz bc it’s spot on.
It really, REALLY bothers me when I hear people frame climate change and other environmental crises as something that everyday, average-ass people are responsible for, and not corporations and entire governments.
Like literally, how can a regular-ass person ~opt out~ of all damaging behaviors while still being able to function in society?
You literally can’t.
The future of our planet is not down to whether or not someone recycles their water bottle.
It’s down to whether or not governments and corporations decide to quit sucking up all our resources and poisoning the earth with reckless abandon.
I mean obviously people should still live as cleanly and as sustainably as they can manage where they are and with what they have, but like. THAT isn’t the major issue.
govts and corporations have deliberately put the onus on yr individual choices so the system can continue being as destructive/profitable
God bless this post this pisses me off so much
Also this hyper-individualist shift of responsibility is largely an American thing and consumerism is framed as a solution- e.g., buy more shit that’s sustainable! That’ll fix the problem (buy a new, green water bottle! buy a new, green car! buy a new, green whatever-the-fuck that’ll just ultimately produce more waste)!
I took a course in sustainable engineering.
The professor mentioned that even if every private individual in the world were to conserve resources and the environment the ol’ Jimmy Carter way- by turning down the thermostat, recycling your glass and plastics and metals, cut down on luxuries, take shorter showers, etc., it would only get us 10% of the way to where we need to be in order to avoid global catastrophic climate change.
when you see something that reminds you of a partner/loved one and you send them a link to it that’s a form of gift-giving (preserving the meaning and thoughtfulness behind “i saw this and i thought you would like it”) without costing money, and i think that’s a cool thing to talk about re: love in the digital age that’s not “millennials look at their phones too much and it’s destroying relationships”
absolutely. some of the best texts i get are the ones that are “i saw this and it reminded me of you.” i think that’s huge.
idk I just love how we Young People Today use ~improper~ punctuation/grammar in actually really defined ways to express tone without having to explicitly state tone like that’s just really fucking cool, like
no = “No,” she said.
no. = "No,” she said sharply.
No = “No,” she
stated
firmly.
No. = “No,” she snapped.
NO = “No!” she shouted.
noooooo = “No,” she moaned.
no~ = “No,” she said with a drawn-out sing-song.
~no~ = “No,” she drawled sarcastically.
NOOOOO = “No!” she screamed dramatically.
no?! = “No,” she said incredulously.
I’ve been calling this “typographical nuance” and I have a few more to add:
*no* = “No,” she said emphatically.
*nopes on out of here* = “No,” she said of herself in the third person, with a touch of humorous emphasis.
~*~noooo~*~ = “No,” she moaned in stylized pseudo-desperation.
#no = “No,” she added as a side comment.
“no” = “No,” she scare-quoted.
wtf are you kidding no = “No,” she said flatly. “And I can’t believe I have to say this.”
no no No No NO NO NO NO = "No,” she repeated over and over again, growing louder and more emphatic.
nooOOOO = “No,” she said, starting out quietly and turning into a scream.
*no = “Oops, I meant ‘no,’” she corrected, “Sorry for the typo in my previous message.”
me:
all of them together!! the best and the cutest
me:
they're the dream honestly i mean we're one movie in and they haven't even officially met all together yet and already i can't deal i mean they're so cuuute i can't
me:
the best
me:
wow
also me:
*wakes up at 3am in a cold sweat* oh my god what if they're somehow all related
thank god for the mythbusters though because it used to be that whenever i knew i had insomnia i’d just kind of accept it and stay up doing whatever until my morning classes and spend the day feeling like shit
but then they did an episode where they established that even just fucking laying there for a half hour, not even sleeping just laying there and not even for an hour, makes a significant difference and you’ll feel way better
it has made a huge difference in my life to know that it’s okay if i can’t fall asleep, it takes a lot of the pressure off and ironically helps me fall asleep better
…i did not know this, thank you
If anyone wants to look it up, the episode was specifically the Deadliest Catch crossover ep, and the myth was that it’s better/safer when working a 30 hour shift to take a 20 minute nap every six hours rather than try to power through. They did an obstacle course test, one without naps and one with, and even though they couldn’t even sleep half the time the naps resulted in their scores doubling.
So actually I undersold it, even if it’s 7:40 and your alarm goes off at 8 just lie down and shut your eyes and it will still be better than nothing
C-3PO to Han Solo in Empire: Sir, I don’t know where your ship learned to communicate, but it has the most peculiar dialect.
this isn’t gone into at all but I like the idea that the Falcon, bashed together from illegal aftermarket parts, familiar with all corners of the galaxy but with no real home, speaks her own patois that works reasonably well everywhere rather than learning several formal machine languages (I imagine there are relatively few of those compared to the range of lifeforms’ languages, but still)
3PO is fluent in over six million forms of communication, so he’s surely familiar with various pidgins, creoles, and so on, but if the Falcon’s sort of created one for herself then obviously translating it will be a more involved job
protocol droids probably have algorithms for parsing pidgins and creoles by identifying the parent languages and predicting how the language will behave based on the parents’ vocabulary/grammar and the general processes of creole formation
I like the idea of the Falcon getting impatient with 3PO because he keeps asking her to repeat herself and she’s like who the hell are you and why can’t you understand plain talk when you hear it
revisiting this thought: imagine Rey, who has met about a thousand different droids and computers and learned to speak whatever language they speak
she starts talking to the Falcon’s computer because something is broken, again, and it takes her all of five minutes to pick up the peculiar dialect because it’s similar to one common among smugglers’ ships she’s repaired, though it has a few idiosyncracies that are new to her (in part because it’s honestly just older than most things she’s run into)
soon enough instead of plugging in a droid to find out what’s wrong she’s just yelling at the Falcon from upside down in a compartment full of sparks and the Falcon is insulting her repair skills and insinuating some really unpleasant things about her parentage and Rey’s like JUST TELL ME WHERE THE SHORT IS ALREADY YOU CAN TRASH-TALK ME WHEN YOUR CIRCUITRY’S NOT SETTING ME ON FIRE
