Obligate note that everyone is hot and I am
having A Rough Time. Especially Romeo
and Rosaline. Damn. Relatedly, I’d die for Rosaline. DAMN.
Lovin’ that character interpretation
and her friendship with Juliet. I
couldn’t give less of a damn about Benvolio/Rosaline, but give me all of
Escalus cutting out his own heart to save Verona and Rosaline hating herself
for not being able to hate him. The
scene of them in the church was some good shit.
This was EXACTLY the overwrought historically
inaccurate Shakespeare nonsense I hoped it would be, frankly. Sweeping beautiful visuals, sudden closeups
for theatrical one-liners, slightly confused plotline timing, and The Drama™. Good stuff.
I don’t generally care for versions of Romeo and
Juliet where the love story is played straight (Shakespeare wrote it as a
tongue-in-cheek tragedy, a lot of the narrative makes more sense with that
perspective, and the love-at-first-sight angle is kind of desperately overplayed
and therefore I Do Not Care) but I’m willing to roll with it because I knew
what I was getting into. And like they
do a decent job with it, it’s very tragic, Juliet is good, I like her, Romeo’s
death is nicely done. Kinda annoyed that
Juliet poisons herself rather than stabbing herself because I like the tragedy
of “I will kiss thy lips//Haply some poison yet doth hang on them.”
That being said, I think it was a narratively
good move to add some additional weight to the Montague/Capulet feud. Like, on the one hand, yes, folks are being
murdered in your streets, that is Not Good, but also let’s…have a solid reason
for the Prince to care, seeing as
that’s the whole plot of this show. And
it being Italy in the 16th century, concerns about a power grab by
the winning family are pretty legit. (I’ve
watched a lot of Borgias lately.)
ANTHONY. STEWART.
HEAD. AS LORD CAPULET. Aw man y’all the part of me that really
enjoyed the first two and a half seasons or so of Merlin (another show I have
Opinions on) as a terrible romp through somewhat bastardized Arthuriana is real
excited right now.
Glad to see Paris is a dick. Very pleased.
The all out riotous brawl at the funeral was
honestly the top thing on my wish list for this show and I feel intensely
gratified to have gotten it.
The line “Escalus, Verona is burning” was my fucking shit to be
honest. Like, damn, son, Isabella is
Athena, the clear-eyed goddess of wisdom and war, and I feel like the world
deserves to see her with a sword in her hand.
Here is my #1 Complaint: they seem to have
accidentally switched Benvolio and Mercutio’s personalities. This is not to say that Benvolio is
necessarily the voice of reason in the play (it’s a play of Bad Choices), but
Mercutio is 100% the “I am drunk at 10 AM,” Do It For The Vine friend. I got to the scene where Mercutio dies before
I realized that the other guy wasn’t Mercutio, and I was solely tipped off by
the fact that I knew Mercutio died. I
get it that they clearly wanted some sort of bad boy thing to be happening
here, but I’m so salty about this. Like,
why WOULDN’T you want Benvolio to be loyal and honest and grief-stricken and desperate
to do right by his best friends’ deaths for this thoughtless crusade? Romeo, the hopeless romantic, and Mercutio,
the laughing rogue, both dead from this hopeless feud, and Benvolio, true and dependable
as good steel, the last one left alive, who will see it mended if it kills him
but who can’t quite forget his friends’ voices enough to marry a woman he doesn’t
love. Like, what part of that DOESN’T
sound like good shit.
….I mean…personal headcanon that he’s drowning
himself in alcohol and misery because Mercutio doesn’t love him, and that he
doesn’t care what happens to him afterward because Mercutio is dead. Like, that’s the only way I can reconcile the
dude in the show and the play character.
But whatever that’s just me.
Ultimate conclusion: 10/10 on The Drama™, but it ain’t exactly Sense8 for structure or narrative cohesion. Will I show my Shakespeare nerd parents? Jury’s out. Will I continue watching it? HELL YES.
Karikki was sitting in the ship’s mess when the most recent addition to the crew stumbled into the room and collapsed into a chair with a relieved groan, dropping her head onto the table.
“Rough shift?” ie said, making a sympathetic noise as ie broke off another piece of ir food pack.
Melanie Dupré, recently hired on as a ship’s mechanic and as of one month ago the only human crewmember of the Xanaki Star, mumbled something into the table before lifting her head so that her translator could actually be of use.
“I could swear the ventilation ducts actually hate me personally,” she said. “I’ve been running around all day.” A look of horror crossed her features then, and she groaned again, dragging her hand across her eyes. “And I left my food packs in my room. Goddamn it.”
Karikki churred soothingly. “Don’t worry about it, you can have one of ours,” ie said, getting to ir feet and digging one of the vacuum-sealed silver packs out of the pantry.
Melanie made a noise that Karikki had learned to interpret as grateful and peeled the pack open, looking down at it dubiously. “You’re sure this is okay?”
“We’re nutritionally compatible!” Karikki said. “The captain checked, before we hired you on. Just in case you ran out of your own supplies. It should be fine.”
“Okay. Thanks,” she said, breaking off a square of the compressed nutrition block and popping it into her mouth.
A look crossed her face then that it took Karikki a moment to identify: disgust, ie realized. That was disgust–which was made all the clearer when Melanie gagged and grabbed a napkin, spitting the square out into her hand. “Oh my god,” she said.
Karikki could feel ir antennae fluttering anxiously. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is that a bad texture for humans?”
Melanie wiped her mouth, scrubbing at her tongue with the side of her hand. She shook her head. “No, the texture’s fine, it’s just like one of our protein blocks. It’s the [——], I’m sorry, I don’t mean to offend you, but it’s awful! How can you eat that?”
Karikki flicked ir ear. “Sorry, say that again? I think your translator cut out in the middle. It’s the what?”
Cellulite is a female secondary sex characteristic and should be celebrated as a rite of womanhood, not despised or eradicated.
it’s really a secondary sex characteristic?!
It is. It has to do with the way our bodies network fat. Female bodies create sort of a mesh network to support fat (female bodies are MUCH more hardy in times of stress) and it can present as delightfully lumpy. More than 90% of women have visible cellulite, but all women store fat in this manner.
why did no one tell me this?!
You know why :/
Spread this. I only just started to see mine and I started to freak out a bit. More people should/need to know about this
Here’s an illustration of the aforementioned difference in fat storage.
Men’s lattice pattern collagen threads holds subcutaneous fat in a way that, when the skin expands because of the fat storage, it expands evenly. Women’s “pockets” expand unevenly when we accumulate fat, creating that orange peel effect. Our storage pattern means we can healthily store more fat than men. Like a woman with 25% body fat is average, a man with 25% body fat is chubby. Because of that, like OP said, women are hardier in times of stress or famine. It’s also one of the reasons why our bodies can survive pregnancy, which is a massive energy demand on our system.
And there’s absolutely NO “treatment” for cellulite that will work. They are all bullshit designed to separate you from your hard-earned cash. It’s a secondary sex characteristic, it’s perfectly normal and it’s not going away no matter what you do. Like I’m very lean myself and I work out 5~6 times a week, and I still have cellulite. Someone giving a woman shit for having cellulite is akin to giving her shit for having skin. It’s just a mixture of misogyny and corporate greed.
Love your lumpy skin, ladies. It means you are a badass surviving machine shaped by millenia of evolution.
u wanna watch a video thats any amount of time??? thats too long, even if the video is like 10 seconds
becoming too aware of how things feel or how u do certain things or just regular bodily functions like breathing or blinking
staying up until 4 AM or later for no reason aside from adhd said so
that sinking feeling when u realized uve spaced out for most of a conversation and u feel too bad abt doing it to ask the person to repeat what they said
overstimulation
meltdowns
when u have the motivation to get shit done, but executive dysfunction is like “lmfao nope”
trying to get certain stuff done and ur managing ok, but u still get distracted on occasion and u scold urself every time u do but u cant stop urself from doing it
the antsy anxiousness that comes with being confined to doing smth for too long
“i hope i remember this” u didnt remember it
outbursts which cause u to snap at ppl and then u feel bad but u couldnt help it
no volume control so ur constantly told to stop yelling but u cant make ur voice quieter
*someone explains instructions and its a rather simple thing* “ok got it” u dont got it
getting irrationally irritated over the smallest shit but u cant help it everything is just So Frustrating
“u know what i think im having a good day” and then mood swing that makes u either Super Sad or Super Mad for no reason
having what ur gonna say right in ur head but somehow u still space out in the middle of talking and forget what u wanted to say
forgetting why u were upset but still feeling upset
the sinking feeling of remembering why u were upset and now ur even more upset
when rsd is being extremely irrational and u know its bullshit but u dont have the energy to fight it so u just sit there in sadness
when rsd makes u self conscious abt stimming in public
having absolutely no time perception at all. what even is time ive never heard of that in my life
needing to get smth done and u manage to focus, but ur focusing on the wrong thing
overanalyzing past stuff thats happened and realizing other shit u couldve said that wouldve helped the situation and damn why didnt u think of that when u were in the situation
look, whatever the han solo series ends up claiming as “backstory”, you and I know that what really happened was that han solo grew up an orphan of the late republic in the slums of corellia.
at some point in his erstwhile adolescence (’erstwhile’ is leia’s word; he remembers a lot more dirt and desperation and starving than ‘erstwhile’ really conveys) he takes stock of his worldly possessions:
a vague, foggy shape in place of his mother, a story she told han (or han told himself, he’s never sure) about a handsome pilot for a father;
four credits;
a perpetually-damp pallet that the Amber Twi’iek’s mistress sometimes rolls out in front of the fire, in exchange for him chasing off the rats in the cellar, running messages, and acting as lookout for troopers;
an itch, in his feet, in his gut, behind his eyes, that demands he get into the sky even if it requires building himself a set of wings out of wax and flimsi, which—well, lends some credence to the pilot story.
(there’s a saying: you can tell a corellian by looking. they’re born with crooked necks, to better stare up at the stars)
by the time he meets lando, he’s been haunting the cantinas around the docks looking for someone willing to take him aboard. they’re all eager—he’s young and strong and naive in certain ways—at least until they see the faint, raised bump in the hollow of his palm.
it’s a galactic crime to take an orphan from their planet of origin without the proper paperwork; it makes him a liability. (part of senator amidala’s anti-sentient trafficking initiative, and if han knew, he’d curse her and all her descendants. yes, even those ones.)
either way—it’s a smoggy night and he’s nineteen, trying to pass himself off as older, which lando finds inexplicably charming (there’s a lot about han’s bravado he finds inexplicably charming, probably because it’s so poorly constructed; probably because it makes lando feel so tender about the whole thing.) you have a ship? he says, and lando likes the way he flushes when lando says yes, leaning in—overeager, artless—and saying, buy me a drink then.
lando is only twenty-five and his ship is a junker, practically a historical artifact, that he won in a hand of sabacc and can just barely fly without a copilot. he buys the stranger drink anyway.
the first time han set foot in the falcon, he came home. lando remembers, because he woke up alone in his bunk the next morning—the attractive stranger from the night before was sitting, shirtless, in lando’s cockpit, touching the controls one by one, like he was turning over something fragile and desperately vital in his hands.
lando had watched, and lando had thought: I wonder if I can make him look at me like that.
(han hadn’t noticed. han had been busy falling headlong, desperately in love, in the way he wouldn’t again, not with anyone)
one night turns into three turns into—well, han crawling between lando’s legs and holding out a vibroblade. Then his hand, palm up. cut it out, he says, and lando looks at him, all that poorly-stitched-together bravado. han is very beautiful when he’s young, it makes him difficult to refuse.
if you want to be a pilot, your hands are your life. can’t risk damaging them, lando says, gently closing han’s outstretched hand into a fist. wait another two years, they’ll remove it—
it’ll be too late, han says, and this is lando’s great fault, he never really learns to predict these flashes of wild selflessness and loyalty, doesn’t know what to do with them. you’ll be gone, you’ll have forgotten me. cut it out.
it’s really difficult to overstate how beautiful han is, at nineteen.
I’ll be careful, lando promises. afterwards, they burn the bloody sheets and the tracker chip along with them. the heap is still smoldering as han watches lando prep for takeoff, and it’s—almost, it’s very close to how he looked at the falcon, that first morning.
(lando is very beautiful too, it should be said. but he will be his most beautiful at thirty-one, heartbroken and standing among the clouds of bespin—it hasn’t happened yet, how beautiful he is. han will never be more beautiful than he is now, the first time he clutches at the co-pilot seat so tightly his hand starts bleeding again and his eyes fill with the stars.)
what next? han breathes, as lando puts the ship on autopilot. he’s staring at the blue whirl of hyperspace like nothing has ever been so beautiful.
(lando is staring at him, ditto.)
anything you want, lando says, and han just—just laughs.
legolas & gimli!!! bc i saw you mention them in your faramir & eowyn answer and got v excited but then you didn't get TOO sidetracked lmao
1. I love the dynamic, of like, light-hearted kinda scatterbrained eccentric and slightly goofy elf ranger who verbally shitposts and sounds like a loon whenever he opens his mouth but occasionally says deep and genuine things too, plus the super-serious well-spoken soulful proud dwarf lord who also talks weird but in like, the opposite way, with these heartfelt open feelings couched in kind of solemnity and manners, but more and more frequently over the book babbles and says spontaneous stuff, and how they fit together so well in a dynamic that is really un-cliched on the personal level – this weird melding of senses of humor and viewpoints on the other characters and events around them, which are pretty different but don’t oppose one another as much as overlap and join together to create a single bigger, even more fun outside viewpoint, they’re such a good pseudo greek chorus-y thing
2. I think this pairing is the main reason I kinda like the LACE ‘elves have no desire to have sex with anyone unless they fall in love and sex equals getting married for them’ thing tbh. I love the symmetry with the ‘dwarves only ever fall in love once and never marry otherwise but nothing is said about extramarital sex for them’ thing, Meaning it’s like, some weird special experience on both sides but in different ways. I usually don’t care for this trope in most shippy fic, but I like it in interspecies and I really like it for them.
3. Aaggghhhh the getting-together process! Most of all, I think about the fact that by all accounts, and as implied by certain lines in Fellowship, the dwarves of Erebor don’t really get elves and the elves of Mirkwood don’t really get dwarves, and there’s probably a lot of just, natural assumptions that are totally wrong and which they never thought to examine. It could even be that the fire-forged-ness of their bond might actually interfere with some of this understanding of each other, if they moved into this state of complete attachment and acceptance of each other while in this upside-down fugue state of pre-apocalypse where they didn’t really have…that much time to talk, after their period of downtime in Lothlorien where I assume the first stage of their friendship was formed. Like, when they emerge from emergency-mode after the destruction of the Ring, they’ve already plummeted straight into “oh I know he’s a weird alien and I love him, oh no wait it’s that kind of love, okay lol this definitely won’t work welp I’m screwed I guess???” without considering that no maybe he’s not that much of an alien, and yes you can fuck him without it being a disaster.
4. OBVIOUSLY the whole immortal/mortal thing, especially highlighted since they live in pretty close contact and temporally in parallel with Aragorn and Arwen, whose mortal/immortal problem is totally different. Also the sea-longing! How, and when, was it decided that Legolas would stay in ME that long, or that he would take Gimli with him to Valinor? So many opportunities! In some ways, their time in ME after the war is a grace period, a finite stage of overlap, a kind of once-in-an-age, improbable, forgotten, enchanted sort of time, where the dwarves are building for the future but the elves are just pretty much just lingering and housekeeping for the humans on their way out, and it would feel like there is a sort of pressure to make something of this time, both their own separate lives and whatever their relationship is like.
5. lmao I think the main reason I imagined Legolas as blond was either because Thranduil had golden hair in the Hobbit book or because something something weird associations with personality types something (because I had no idea about any of the movie castings at the time I read the books). BUT ALSO: “I say to you, Gimli son of Glóin, that your hands shall flow with gold, and yet
over you gold shall have no dominion” :)
6. I am TRASH. I will read SO MUCH SILLINESS with them. But here are just three HQ recs:
Anyway here is an itemised list of the reasons why I’m loving Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries so much:
Miss Fisher is obviously a badass but also she’s not young! She’s Of A Certain Age and she still lands the absolute hottest dudes. The hottest dudes. The hottest dudes
It’s the Carousing Good Guy trope but a lady!
Her lady-loving doctor friend Mac wears the most wonderful suits and she is amazing and I want to kiss her
What kind of a name is Phrynie. It’s absurd
Super old-school anti-procedural. Like Jonathan Creek but without all the British cringiness. Like Star Trek but instead of space stuff it’s murders and instead of space it’s set in Australia.
I didn’t even know Australia had a ‘20s until I watched this show. Upon closer study, it seems plausible
Miss Fisher is absolutely ruthless, clever, dangerous, insightful, and willing to go to any length to solve her case - including playing any number of fanciful parts, scaling large buildings, getting herself nearly poisoned to death, and otherwise putting herself in physical and emotional danger - and she does all this without having to sacrifice her love of pretty things. She scales those buildings in beautiful hand-tooled Italian heels. She is always impeccably, gorgeously dressed, and doesn’t ever change that about herself, even when she starts being taken more seriously by the police force or when she is doing serious detective work like interviewing wicked murderers or hunting for the man who killed her sister. Miss Fisher is only ever entirely herself.
She adopts strays like no one’s business.
There’s something very appealing about the story of a woman who has seen terrible, gruesome things, decided afterwards to dedicate her life entirely to pleasure, and then (almost despite herself) ended up becoming a philanthropist and a den mother and a doer-of-good. I have seen this story many many many (many, many) times from a male perspective, but not so often from a female viewpoint, and Miss Fisher does it without ever begrudging what she’s become. She’s infinitely more graceful than every other good-guy-against-his-better-judgment story I’ve watched or read.
oppressors paint famous radicals as soft pacifists because they know quiet rebellion (read: quiet acceptance of the system) won’t get us anywhere. if you manage to convince someone that their hero was peaceful and kind even in the face of oppression, you manage to squash rebellion before it can rise up.
“During the lifetime of great revolutionaries, the oppressing classes constantly hounded them, received their theories with the most savage malice, the most furious hatred and the most unscrupulous campaigns of lies and slander. After their death, attempts are made to convert them into harmless icons, to canonize them, so to say, and to hallow their names to a certain extent for the “consolation” of the oppressed classes and with the object of duping the latter, while at the same time robbing the revolutionary theory of its substance, blunting its revolutionary edge and vulgarizing it.“
That Gal Gadot has never ‘supported the Palestinian genocide’.
Does not have a rifle with the notch marks of all those she’s killed.
And has stated outright that she believes in coexistence.
She worked as a fitness instructor, never seeing combat during her mandatory stint in the Israeli army (IDF), and the only thing she said was that she wished luck to her former colleagues in the army (you know, the equivalent of ‘Support Our Troops’) and specifically wished them luck against (and condemned) Hamas, which is a terrorist organization. Her tags then went on to note #stopterror and #coexistance.
You don’t have to like her, or Wonder Woman, or DC, but if you could keep the antisemitism out of it, that’d be great.
draw women in post-apocalyptic world settings with armpit hair, leg hair, bushy brows and pubic hair ya cowards,, draw brown women/women with dark thick hair with arm hair and happy trails and sideburns and mustaches i’m sick of seeing silky smooth soapy clean make up wearing post apocalyptic dolled up women next to stinky sweaty crusty men with dirty nails and sweaty clothes and sweaty greasy hair and 3m long ugly beards
or, if you must depict women maintaining that shit, at least be interesting about it. I can actually buy someone shaving/putting on makeup if that’s their way of coping, something they do to tether themselves to the past or an ellusive feeling of normalcy. So show me the EFFORT put in, yeah? Show that woman risking a zombie horde because she spotted a fucking tube of scarlet lipstick and christ she hasn’t seen that color in five years but it’s what she wore on her first date with her now-dead husband. Show me the girl who is quietly starting to fucking lose it but covers it up with fanatical commitment to her appearance because if she gets these eyebrows right, maybe no one will notice how she stares at things that aren’t there.
I find it completely plausible that some women would go to incredible lengths to maintaining their appearance, because they’ve been socialized all their lives to caring about it, because it’s a part of their identity. So show me how that part gets negotiated with once the world has gone to hell.
Catch me in your local bunker doing a smoky eye with the ashes of my former life.
One of the visual images that still sticks with me is from the 2000 TV show Prairie Quest, when modern people simulated homesteading in the 1870s. They all got kind of bushy and hairy as they dealt with an extremely limited supply of clean, warm water or good soap. One of the women hated the feeling of hairy legs while she slept, so as an act of love and care, her husband had her prop her legs up on the kitchen table while he carefully shaved her legs with a hunting knife.
… that is honestly fucking adorable and kind of hot and I am totally stealing it for a post-apocalyptic setting.
You start a game of DnD with a blank character sheet. Your DM has them all. You only discover stats and things as they become relevant.
Like, “I rolled 7 on my constitution check” “You get a +2 bonus so that’s a 9.” *Hurriedly marking it down*
Or
“I would like to ask the innkeeper if there is anything weird going on in the area” “Dragonborn are rare in these parts, so she is suspicious at your approach.” “Wait I’m a DRAGONBORN?!?”
It would be absolute chaos but for a one-shot I feel it would be fun. Maybe all the characters have amnesia and they have to figure out what they can do from scratch.
not to get mad nerdy but I just discovered tabletopaudio.com and I’m fuckin losing it
this person (people?) goes about making 10 minute long loopable ambient noise tracks for every imaginable setting (docks, taverns, forests, airships, spaceships, office buildings, sewers, EVERYTHING) and has over a hundred tracks to offer, and on top of that if none of them suit you there’s a huge feature called soundpad where you can mix and match from their set of hundreds of individual sound effects and music clips to make your own ambient background track
holy shit dudes
I did a little further reading on his about and the guy running this is just a dad with two kids who like playing tabletops with him and he had the composition and musical training to start making soundtracks for his games then decided to spread that to the world for absolutely free, he even welcomes you to use his tracks in your works (podcasts, videos etc) and is open to being hired for custom tracks
I love the Han Solo comparisons that everyone made for Cassian during promo for Rogue One and then it totally bait and switched that Jyn was actually the vest-wearing, mercenary asshole who reluctantly joined a noble cause and got a crush on a rebel with pretty brown eyes and a stick up their ass.
Honestly, I think the whole “don’t pay the writers” thing boils down to the notion that everybody thinks they can write. It’s the old saw about the novelist at a cocktail party having to hear someone say, for the millionth time, “I’d love to write a book someday.”
Someone–Stephen King? Pretty sure I saw this in a Stephen King foreword–once said they’d like to say to a brain surgeon, “Boy, I’d love to do brain surgery someday.”
We treat “the ability to put words into a sentence” like it’s just the same as “the ability to form a coherent narrative that engenders a variety of emotions within the reader and puts them in a scene and shows them what they didn’t see before”.
And that’s like me drawing a stick figure and saying I’m an artist.
Writers are constantly devalued because everyone thinks they have a book in them and don’t realize the level of skill and commitment it takes to finish even a short story, much less a whole book.
This goes well beyond fandom, but man, I would’ve hoped fandom would know better.
Do you ever just sometimes marvel at the fact that the aesthete culture of the likes of Oscar Wilde has found new life in Millennials? Like there is an established subculture of the “deeply shallow” (to quote @dionysae ) who find real meaning in the look, feel, and texture of our worlds. We have this amazing talent for finding uniform beauty in different vibes and we have no shame in organizing our lives around that vibe pursuing the feelings and values said vibe stirs up in us. Like the “live and die for the aesthetic” meme is funny by it’s not a lie; we are the inheritors of a great tradition of building personalities and commentaries out of sublime, carefully cultivated Looks. Art for art’s sake is back in a Big way folks.
u wanted prompts: steve takes it upon himself to stand outside planned parenthood clinics and fight people who attack and harass pp
Listen, I see and observe your ‘Steve’ up
there, but I raise you Forty Percent of the Marvel Universe because I am bitter
about the current direction of the whole comics thing at the moment. *Max Rockatansky voice* I guarantee you, a
hundred and sixty days out, there’s nothing but salt. Anyway, if you’ve read my Claire Temple AO3
fic that may or may not get more stuff added to it when I feel inspired, this
is technically that universe, but prior knowledge IS NOT REQUIRED, okay good
let’s do it. Also I believe that movie
canon only applies to me when I feel like it so everyone is in New York and the
Avengers live in the Tower, no one is dead and everything is F I N E. I dunno, this is only like the first half of
a much longer thing that covers this whole day and, if I had my way, would be a
full-blown elaborate media fic with tweets and Trish’s show and
everything. But here, it’s real long, so
I left it alone. It’s on AO3.
Steve got the call pre-dawn, just as he was leaving the Tower for his
run.
“Captain Rogers,” FRIDAY said politely from the ceiling, “you are
receiving a call from an unknown number with a New York City area code.”
“If it’s a reporter, let it ring out,” Steve said, knotting his running
shoes.
“Reporters do not have your personal cell number, Captain,” FRIDAY said,
and there was a trace of genteel condescension in the artificial voice this
time that made Steve grin down at the floor.
“Where in the City?”
“Hell’s Kitchen.”
Steve frowned, straightening up.
“That might be Daredevil in trouble.
You better put it through to my phone.
Thanks, FRIDAY.”
“Of course, Captain,” FRIDAY said.
Steve’s top-of-the-line, not-on-the-open-market-yet, Jesus-Cap-does-your-shit-phone-even-text-here-let-me-replace-it
StarkPhone rang, a jaunty tune that sounded distinctly like the National
Anthem, and even more distinctly like the foreboding of Bucky getting his ass
kicked.
“Steve Rogers,” Steve answered, hitting the green button and raising the
phone to his ear.
“Um…hi, Captain Rogers,” the voice on the other end said
hesitantly. “This is Claire Temple, I
don’t know if you remember me, but–”
“Of course I remember you, Miss Temple,” Steve said, grinning. “You pulled a piece of rebar out of my chest,
hard to forget a first meeting like that.”
She laughed, the same slightly worn chuckle he remembered from her. “And it’s just Steve, please, ma’am. I think once you’ve been up close and
personal with someone’s lung tissue you can probably skip the ‘Captain.’”
If this gets 50 notes I’ll tell you guys how I ran an underground sex ed class and helped put a pedophile in jail during second grade
Okay, so my mom has always been super open about health stuff and when I was just starting elementary school she got me a bunch of those American Girl books about your body and your feelings and they were really informative and truthful and I really liked them. One day I was talking to a friend about one of them and we started reading it and she was asking a ton if questions and seemed really excited and interested by it and I answered questions and explained stuff. We talked about the books during recess and eventually more girls joined in until we were a group of about 10-15 seven year-olds talking about puberty and sex and a lot of things that most adults don’t The thing about those books is that they look really innocent with cute drawings and there are chapters about brushing your teeth and stuff; but what most people don’t expect is that there’s a lot of health stuff about puberty and mental illness and drugs and a lot of really important stuff that everyone should know. The teachers didn’t care because the books looked super innocent and they thought were talking about proper brushing habits or something. We’d go sit down and read a chapter and I’d add some other stuff that my mom had told me and then we’d just talk and ask questions. It was kind of like group therapy but with sex ed. This was all okay until one of the boys saw a page with a ton of boobs on it (the page was demonstrating a breast exam) and he told the teacher. So they found and I got suspended and I wasn’t allowed to bring any more of those books into school.
Closer to the end of the year, one of the second grade teachers was revealed to be a pedophile when one of his students said that he tried to touch her inappropriately and then three other girls came forward with the same story. After he was arrested, the girl told me that she said what he did because we had talked about what to do in that exact situation. Because of our group she knew that she probably wasn’t the only one and she knew that it was wrong for him to do that and that she wouldn’t get in trouble if she told someone and that she probably wouldn’t have said anything if she hadn’t read those books.
I started doing it again the next year. No one stopped me.
Why do people show dungeon masters as wizards in art and stuff? They’re clearly bards. Chaotic evil bards, often.
you think a bard can figure out the 3.5 grapple rules
A bard knows when to bend the rules of their chosen medium in service to the story. No satisfying narrative has ever resulted from trying to follow the 3.5 grapple rules.
Chapters: 1/? Fandom: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Captain America - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Steve Rogers & Justice Characters: Steve Rogers Additional Tags: Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, One Shot Collection, Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic, Podfic Length: 10-20 Minutes, aggressively progressive Steve Rogers, other tags will to be added as pertinent, Bananas, RIP Steve’s Publicists TBH Summary:
Steve Rogers wakes up in the 21st century and there are some very specific expectations for how this relic will respond. Steve never did do well with being told how to live his life.
Is there literally any canonical evidence for Jake being a history buff, or is that just a headcanon that bb!me got really committed to?
Like, I am fine with either one and I will not be moved on this matter, Jake is a history buff, but seriously, which one is it.
He never explicitly mentions liking/studying History, but he can name half a dozen battles (several of which I, a decade older, don’t remember) off the top of his head in book 17, and knows the specifications of an aircraft carrier aT LENGTH, SERIOUSLY SO MUCH LENGTH on that one Ax book.
I’d say well-supported fanon.
*fist bump* Thank you my friend, you’re a champ.
Also in #33 he goes off on a rambling monologue that suggests he knows military history and has deliberately been studying famous leaders.
I know there are other examples. At one point he talks about how General Sherman revolutionized warfare, I think. (#31 or 47? IDK.)
I’d say Jake deliberately studying military history out of necessity (not passion) is cannon.
All right, awesome, I knew this couldn’t be something I’d made up wholecloth.
what you said was very sweet and means a lot to me but i am incapable of properly responding in any way besides “thank you so much aaaah” because i do not know how to accurately express the exact level of my gratitude to where you completely understand how much what you said meant to me without me getting even more emotional and looking like a fucking nerd: an autobiography
Is there literally any canonical evidence for Jake being a history buff, or is that just a headcanon that bb!me got really committed to?
Like, I am fine with either one and I will not be moved on this matter, Jake is a history buff, but seriously, which one is it.
He never explicitly mentions liking/studying History, but he can name half a dozen battles (several of which I, a decade older, don’t remember) off the top of his head in book 17, and knows the specifications of an aircraft carrier aT LENGTH, SERIOUSLY SO MUCH LENGTH on that one Ax book.
Hey all! Some of you are asking about the bear incident. I will tell you in due course, but for now ill give you a teaser
It involves a bear, a tree, and a lack of pants
Well I’d be worried if the bear was wearing pants…
To clarify. Im lacking pants
hopefully you’re fully equipped with as many pants as you need at this point in time, i’d be much more worried if you didn’t have any pants at all.
To clarify AGAIN: AT THE TIME OF THE BEAR INCIDENT I WAS LACKING PANTS
CURRENTLY I HAVE MANY PANTS AT LEAST 2 OK
Okay but did the tree have pants
THE BEAR HAD NO PANTS I HAD NO PANTS AND THE TREE HAS MY PANTS OK
YOU WERE ROBBED BY A TREE???
…..maybe…..not exactly
As a non-native speaker I always wonder: pants as in two long tubes of fabric that go down to your ankles or pants as in the underwear. Please tell me it’s the latter
I mean at that point it was both
A tree panty thief… i always knew trees were suspicious…
Wait, how does the bear fit in??
DAMMIT YOU GUYS
I WAS GONNA GIVE THIS ONE TO YOU LATER WITH PROPER THOUGHT AND WRINTING BUT NO YA’LL HAVE NO CHILL
BUCKLE UP FRIENDS YOU’RE IN FOR A WILD RIDE
Ok so i’m twelve. little twelve year old Rekina. I was a scout for most of my life, so the forest is like home to me ok. In a city i get super turned around, can’t find my way around to save my life
but drop me in a forest? man ill have an entire camp set up and find my way out in less than a day ok im wilderness survivor exrtordinare
So i’m out camping with my troop. We’re big kids now so the adults dicthed us for our very own solo three day hike
let me just say that my troop didn’t like me. I was the quiet nerd kid who read alone in my tent and kicked everyones aass at lighting fires, when they all were sneaking in booze, peeping on girls, and failing to light fires
So one afternoon while i’m out hunting for supper (a task no one has succeeded at, they just wanted me out of the way. fools) i discover i severly have to pee. So i got ahead and prop mysef agaisnt a tree as you do
Now, when you’re a girl, you don’t get the lucury of just whipping it out and pissing on a mushroom ok you have to remove all clothing from the lower half and squat agsint a tree like a weight lifter
so im doing my thing, my pants around my ankles, when i hear the bushes near by rustling
Those fucking boys i swear im going to kick their asses if they’re spying on me
but im midstream and you don’t just stop midtsream ina forest cause then you drip all over your under wear and its not fun
I get two more seconds of peaceful pee time
BAM the bush fucking explodes
i scream, and almost fall over because my legs are getting tired ok peeing in a forest is hard work for women let me get an amen
But its fine, i look over and it isn’t one of the boys
it’s a baby bear no threat to me
I continue about my buisness.
wait
baby bear =
mama bear
Sure enouogh the second i think that she rears up from behind the bush
now this thing is gigantic im talking would knock an nba player away from the hoop and get a slam dunk with out even trying ok
huge
I don’t move. I;m racking my brain like ok what did the manual say to do what would indiana jones do shitshitshitshit well ok as long as it doesn’t see me im safe ill just wait for it to go away and make no noise
she looks over and roars
had i not already been peeing i would have pissed my pants
I was caught, literally, with my pants down.
I think its time to beat a hasty retreat i threw the manual and indiana jones out the window
id like to say i calmly made my escape, floating like a graceful ballerina
didnt happen
i waddled away like a psychotic penguin screaming and flailing and being decidedly ungraceful ok i would have made Mumble proud for how my my little feet were moving i was like a penguin tap star
I booked it, desperaty trying to pull up my pants so i can at least die not looking like Bert from mary poopins doing his ridiculous little dance
so im running for life, a big ass knife in my hand and i know i won’t be able to stab this thing
or out run it
or out last it
i couldnt out anything it
but im good at climbing
I beeline for this massive oak and scramble up that thing like a penguin, squirel hybrid. I prop my self up on one f the high branches, stilling trying to pull up my pants, but that’s kind of hard while your ass is being tickled by fire ants
lets just say i took the short cut down
I plummeted face first out of the tree, screaming like a banshee
The bear screamed back andd ran away because when i say banshee i mean banshee ok i have the shriek of a dolphin on helium
suddenly im not falling.
A branch had snagged my jeans and now i was dangling maybe ten feet of the ground by my pants
in a true, rekina, cliche move, i slip from the branch and crsh the ground completely unharmed (except for my bruise dignity) and somehow managed to not stab myself with my knife on the way down
on small problem
i left my pants in the tree.
The branch had flung my three layers of pants three different ways
my underwear fluttered to the ground beside me like the graceful ballerina i wish i was
my long underwear was twisted around a branch not far above my head
and my jeans had been freaking rocketed into one of the highest branches, the bough too thin for me to climb
i so i put on my now fire ant infested under wear (after doing my best to clean them and quickly snag my long johns because i know one thing for certain
i still see baby bear
mama is coming back
I high tail it like i have never high tailed before ok i was hauling ass outta there
I sprint for a good minute or so when suddenly a brown blur shoot from he bush and im thinking oh shit ima dead man so i do the only logcal thing because im going down fighting aint no bear gonna find me curled on the ground
i lashed out with my knife like a frickin knight in shining armour except im not a knight
and im in my under wear
and it wasn’t a bear
in my amazing survival stab the beast reflexes i didn’t notice how low to the ground i was aiming
i had stabbed a water rat
you can bet your ass im not wasting that meat
I scoop it up, its blood splatterd all over my face and strut back towards camp
i roll in there pantsless, covered in blood, dirt, and fire ant, grinning like a maniac
“I found supper”
none of the boys ever peeped on me again
How are you even still alive
I wish i knew
Mother fucker this is exactly why the aliens are never going to attack earth. A furious monster attacked a human youngling while as vulnerable as possible and the youngling not only survived, it also climbed a tree half naked, scared the monster away, and caught dinner for it’s pack members with a blade. Not to mention we’re all just chillin’. Laughing about a terrifying near death experience.
“Is it actual clowns or people dressed up as clowns” is such a dip into the modern human psyche where we all just collectively know that “clown” is a species
If humans had a third hand what do you think it would be called? If you could play any instrument without practicing, what would it be?
First one: This? The greatest question. Okay so like obviously if it was a hand that sprouted from like right above your sternum, it would be called the middle hand, seeing as we already have the right and left hands (fun story, you know that phantom limb thing that happens with ADHD, among other things? My brain used to really stubbornly spit out ‘middle eye’ as A Thing I Had when I was younger, it was weird). On the other hand (ha, I’m a riot), if it was another hand below either your right or left hand (wouldn’t it be interesting if it was genetically dictated which side you had your third hand on, like handedness is genetically dictated or which thumb is on top when you lace your fingers) I imagine you would still have a ‘dominant’ hand. Like, one of the three would be more dexterous than the others. So maybe you’d have like “Yes, this is my left hand, and this is my right hand, and this is my prime hand.” WHICH WOULD BE RAD. Also, if you had two pairs of hands you could have your ‘prime’ hands and your ‘off’ hands, so like ‘prime left’ and ‘off right’ and yeah, this was a good question.
Second one: ANY. I have very limited patience for learning instruments because I can’t read sheet music for shit (I have tried, I have made an effort, I have spent years on it, but nope, brain won’t do the thing). I can sing! But IDK I played the flute for a while, which was fun, and I’ve always wanted to be able to play like a harp or a lap harp, or the guitar. I would really love to play either of those. (I recognize that the flute and the harp are both really delicate instruments for someone like me but I like them, okay. At least the guitar fits The Aesthetic.)
um. this is oddly specific, but have you by any chance read familiar by achievingelysium? its altean!lance and its like solid langst, so [shrug]. just wondering. sorry i know its weirdly specific but i do have Reasons for asking.
I have not! I haven’t read a ton of Voltron fic (although I recommend the hell out of the Let The Spectrum In series because it’s just…real good) because…well, I just dragged myself out from under my thesis, and off the top of my head I don’t recall any Altean!Lance fics. I think this is possibly because my response is always “????? 10000 years where?” but then again I get literal at weird moments.
