Hi, I can't figure out how to filter relationships! I've been at this for about 20 minutes, and I give up b/c I am impatient. So can I please have the filter id for steve rogers/tony stark :3.
Happy to help! I assume you’re looking to filter out Steve/Tony. I’ll show you step-by-step, complete with copious screenshots, so we’re going behind the cut (and of course, this method can be used with any filterable tag (using a bookmarklet for Additional Tags) that you want to filter out!)…
Not like women have been telling y'all this since the beginning of time or anything.
I mean, yeah, at one point three years ago I was curled up in a fetal position literally screaming/crying/gasping for breath on my bed in my dorm room, so my response to this headline is basically, “No shit.”
No wonder women are so likely to ignore heart disease/attack symptoms. If something isn’t as bad as my cramps, I figure it can’t be that bad.
THAT LAST COMMENT
No kidding! But when I said that as a kid my parents would tell me it wasn’t that bad?! Also just learned that women with weaker immune systems, it’s worse anyways.
miss me with that ‘weapon accuracy’ shit. im shooting everything. im laying down cover fire. im shooting the walls. im shooting my teammates. im shooting myself. my accuracy is 100% yall just dont know what im aiming at
I didn’t even read the rest because I’m still laughing at “miss me with that ‘weapon accuracy’ shit” like I’ve never read a more perfect phrase in my life
i always laugh whenever we have to centrifuge bacteria because imagine you’re just chilling in some broth with your buds and then someone comes along and puts you in a tube and spins you at fucking 14,000 rpm
to add to this “humans are weird” thing did you know that humans are the only species on earth with the ability to throw things with any significant degree of accuracy and force (apes can throw with about the force of a human ten year old, but cant lock their wrists well enough for accuracy)
and we just never really think about it bc its so easy and simple to us that pretty much all of our sports are based around the concept of throwing things accurately
so what if the concept of projectile weapons takes most species FOREVER to get the hang of, or even come up with in the first place. a human goes onto a ship and throws some trash into the nearest reclaimer, shouts “kobe!” and all the other aliens on board absolutely LOSE THEIR MINDS
@caffeinewitchcraft I hope you don’t mind me tagging you but I thought of you and your short stories when I read this ^_^
(Funnily enough, @iwouldbemerry tagged me in this too! And you both are so right!)
Yesenia blew it. Her one and only chance to serve on a Federation vessel (”A what? No, we’re a flag ship for the Intergalactic–” “It’s a reference, let me have this–”) and she’d blown it. The written portion of the interview had gone well, and the oral, but she’d tripped during the physical. Literally tripped. In front of the Captain and the First Mate and the head of Medical–
She gloomily takes a bite of her protein bar. “Why do science officers need hand to hand anyway? We’re not the ones going planet side!”
G’Rung, one of her friends from training, pats her on the back with one feathery appendage. “Maybe you didn’t do as badly as you think. I mean, I can’t believe they pitted a human against a V’afinog! Surely that’ll count for extra.”
Yesenia perks up. “Yeah?” She thinks back to the fight. She thinks she actually did get a hit in when she fell–it may have been accidental but it was still a hit. “Yeah, you know what? I probably did okay!”
“And you’re the first human to even get to the interview stage,” G’Rung continues encouragingly. Around them, their other interview group mates nod, murmuring agreement.
“And you’re really good at Botany,” Marsul says. He gives her the close-lipped smile that means he’s genuinely happy, careful to cover his sharp teeth. “They’d be dumb not to accept your application.”
Yesenia is touched. Marsul and her had never gotten along after the whole smile misunderstanding. Apparently he’d thought she was threatening him for the longest time. “Thank you!” She balls up her protein bar wrapper and looks for a trash can. She spots one behind her and, not wanting to leave just yet, twists in her seat and tosses it toward the narrow opening. “Kobe!” The wrapper doesn’t even touch the edge of the receptacle, nothing but net, and she crows victoriously.
When she turns back around, everyone is staring at her.
“That was lucky,” Marsul says finally.
Yesenia glances around the table, not sure what’s wrong. “Luck has nothing to do with it, dude. That’s talent.”
She’s trying to lighten the mood. It doesn’t work.
G’Rung gapes at her. “Are you saying you did that on purpose?”
“Well yeah,” Yesenia says. “The thing’s like ten feet away–”
“Throw this,” Marsul demands, shoving his own wrapper across the table to her. “Throw it.”
“Bossy,” Yesenia mutters. She scoops up the wrapper and throws it. Again, it goes in. And the next one and the one after that and the one that they have her throw from twenty feet away (that one might be luck).
Her group mates go crazy.
“Come on,” G’Rung says, tugging her up urgently, “Come on, come on, come on!”
“What?” Yesenia stumbles out of her seat, eyes wide. “What’s going on?”
Marsul is right on their heels as G’Rung drags Yesenia out of the mess hall. “We have to show the Captain! If he sees this he’ll have to let you on the ship!”
“Sees what?” Yesenia asks. “And I thought you said I did great!”
“I lied to make you feel better,” G’Rung says, pressing the button to the lift that’ll take them to the command deck. “You did terribly against the V’afinog, I know that hit was an accident–”
Marsul darts around them to open the door and practically shoves them both through it. “Captain! Sorry to barge in, but you have to see this!” He looks around, eyes fever bright, and then snatches up a data chip. He shoves it into Yesenia’s hands. “Throw it!”
“Captain,” Yesenia says, looking at the Leekylan sitting in the command chair with wide eyes. “I am so sorry for–”
“I don’t have all day,” the Captain says, iris-less eyes blinking slowly. “And, frankly, if this is something that’ll help your case, you want to do it after that physical exam.”
“Told you,” G’Rung hisses in her ear. G’Rung flaps feather hands in her direction. “Do it!”
Yesenia swallows and tosses the data chip back into the drawer it came from. Marsul darts forward, grabs it, and hands it to her. Yesenia does it again.
“And targets–!” G’Rung swoops down and takes off their shoes. “The wall–!”
Yesenia, unable to read the Captain’s face, decides to just go with it. She lobs G’Rung’s shoes at the wall, hitting the same spot each time.
When she’s done, she turns to the Captain, fidgeting nervously. At her sides, Marsul and G’Rung are practically vibrating with nerves and excitement.
The Captain considers her for a beat longer. “Your Science application was denied due to your inability to defend yourself,” he says. And then, before Yesenia’s heart can crash straight through the floor, he adds, “But, in this case, I believe that this skill more than makes up for your failure in sparring. Congratulations and welcome aboard.”
Yesenia gapes at him. “I– thank you, sir! But–”
“No buts!” G’Rung says, grapping her arm again. “Thanks, Captain, we’ll just be going.”
Marsul picks up the rear, closing the door before he can change his mind.
oh my GOD so i was talking to a buddy in psychology and then this kid came in who looked exactly like him and gave him a book he’d forgotten at home
and i went “holy shit you have a twin?!?” and he was like “yeah! his name is jason!” and i was like “????? i thought YOUR name was jason”
long story short i have one of them in my math class and another in my psychology class and i’ve developed a friendship with both of them but i thought they were the same person this entire time
remember this post? not-jason is refusing to tell me his name and everyone’s keeping it from me so i’m just calling him not-jason
The first guy who heard a parrot talk was probably not ok for several days.
Actually, weird history fact about that. The island of Bermuda’s first name was Isle of Devils, being thought to be filled with demons and angry spirits when it was actually just filled with some loud ass birds.
I wonder if the Inquisition has debriefings? Like, after the entire crew gets back from a mission they have a meeting with the advisors regarding everything that happened.
Or maybe everyone in the party is required to write a field report? I bet Cullen reads them all, just sifting through endless crap from the Inner Circle:
Sera’s reports consist only of crude drawings and obscenities – he actually finds those entertaining. She’s quite inventive and the point is always rather clear.
Cassandra’s are always perfect and detailed, if not a bit stilted. Not that he minds.
Dorian’s are always about the lack of amenities or certain comforts. Can’t you order us thicker blankets? I was freezing the entire time and there was a rock under my back.
Blackwall’s reports are always helpful, he makes notes about soldiers, or various things that need to be done in the area.
Iron Bull’s are always just an account of the things he killed or fought. Sometimes he’ll share a good joke he heard too.
Vivienne’s are to the point, crisp and tidy, never wanting. She’ll also tack on notes about the Inquisitor, or her companions, bits of pertinent information.
Cole doesn’t write reports, but sometimes he’ll pop into Cullen’s office and tell him a few things of note before disappearing again.
Solas’ are scholarly, recounting the areas they’d explored and interesting landmarks, usually with a very detailed map attached.
And then there are Varric’s, written on fine vellum imported from a printer in Kirkwall, the penmanship always neat, and flowing over the pages. And there are many pages as Varric describes, in that detailed way only a writer can, the exact way his boots squelched while in the Fallow Mire; the damp, musty smell that clung to him after spending ten days soaking wet on the Storm Coast, without a chance to dry out; the biting chill that cut through him in the Emprise du Lion, and the way the dark branches of the bare trees struck a bleak contrast against the snow. The fucking endless snow.
It’s when they return from the Hissing Wastes and Cullen sees that Varric’s report is eighteen pages detailing exactly wherehe found sand on his person, that Cullen informs him he is exempt from writing any further reports.
Curly–
Thanks for sending us to Emprise du Fucking Cold. This is exactly what I wanted to be doing at this stage of my life.
Everything is frozen. The wind sounds like it’s screaming when it sweeps through the trees, and it bites through fabric and leather and anything else that tries to stand in its way. Bare black branches stretch out their bony fingers and leave stark, torn shadows over the ice. The only color comes from red lyrium, and there’s so much of it, what sun there is shines through it like stained glass.
The ground crunches. Wolves howl. Ravens caw with doom in their eyes. There’s snow everywhere. I’ve got snow in my boots, snow down my back, snow up my sleeves. Do you know what it’s like being damp for days at a time? It chafes.
[This goes on for several pages.]
Everybody here looks like they’re awaiting the cold embrace of the grave. ‘Wolves took our last sheep, and Uncle Boris has the ague and will soon breathe his last, and little Peter isn’t long for this world, but ah, well, death awaits us all,’ they seem to say, and go back to their porridge, or whatever the hell it is people eat in this Maker-forsaken place. Of course, if I lived here, I would, too.
This place is the worst. Also, we killed some demons today.
ok, so first, you bring dorian, cassandra, and your choice of rogue. if you’re a mage.
if youre a rogue, bring cassandra dorian and maybe another mage or rogue???? a ranged rogue if u are not
if u r a warrior, bring cassandra, u, maybe varric/sera?? and dorian.
okay, then just go full rambo on it. no mercy and when youre about to die, you say its a good day to die hard, and you just keep hitting the shit out of it’s arm so it limps around like it stubbed its toe
ok and then you will die.
you will die, regardless of class, but one will remain
cassandra
im being 100% fucking serious cassandra will not die. u can take all the vitamin gummies u want it doesnt fucking matter, because you will die, but she eat nails for breakfast she will survive
cassandra will fucking wrap a blood-soaked bandage around her head, and use dragon’s blood as her war paint and scream every five seconds and have her guard all the way up and she will scowl and glare the dragon to death
and youre probably thinking, “ok, but the dragon is at half health or ¾ health, jo, there is no fuckin way”
ok first off, dont talk back to me, second off, cassandra pentaghast comes from a hardass family of unforgiving dragon hunters who bathe in dragon blood prbably and im half-convinced cassandra has found the key to immortality bc she does not die. i s2g she has killed over half of the dragons i faced all by her goddamn self and i dont hear a single word of it later, she just shrugs cause MAYBE she got a splinter in her finger, but she literally doesnt give a fuck, if that dragon bites her she will bite it back, she doesnt care she will climb that dragon and stab her sword confidently into it like she is claiming a goddamn logging stand and she will not give half a shit
Dorian’s intro scene is him beating demons to death with a stick. At some point he must have run out of mana and decided to channel his inner Bruce Lee and successfully bludgeon at least two demons to death before the Inquisitor arrived
Dorian masks honesty and insecurity with layer upon layer of snark, sarcasm, and faux-arrogance. He’s like an everlasting gobstopper of adequacy issues.
His fashion sense is leagues different than Orlesian/Ferelden fashions (for god’s sake his casual attire is a brown leather jumpsuit with one shoulder left uncovered. just one)
Underneath his layers of sarcasm and irony there is a doe-eyed idealist that rivals Cassandra Pentaghast who looks at generations of slavery and death in Tevinter and thinks “Yeah this is worth saving”
Dorian considers himself to be Andrastian though not in either the Tevinter sense or the Orlesian sense
i will no longer be inviting my enemies to ‘meet me in the pit’ from now on you are all expected to meet me in the hinterlands, a far more terrifying prospect due to the fact you must first FIND me in the hinterlands, which may take years
You know you grew up on Steve Irwin when you see a photo of a crocodile and think, “Wow. Just beautiful.”
And you see Stingrays as the devil themselves
nah man Steve would have forgiven that stingray and absolved it of its sins
He would have apologized for getting into the stingray’s space and making it afraid.
He actually did! Some of Steve Irwin’s last words were, “it wasn’t his fault. I startled him.”
He actually did forgive the stingray. He knew that he had scared it, and that it was only acting to protect itself.
If you put your ear up to a seashell you can hear the sound of mY HEART BREAKING INTO A THOUSAND LITTLE PIECES
This is why I get so mad whenever my folks have Animal Planet on lately and it’s all about WHAT ANIMALS ARE GOING TO MURDER YOU IN YOUR FACE?
EXOTIC PETS RIP OWNER TO SHREDS!
SNAKES! WILL THEY EAT YOU? (YES)
Steve Irwin (and at the time at least his contemporary follow-behind Jeff Corwin) ushered in such a pure unbridled LOVE of exotic, ferocious, terrifying animals. He respected the animals so much, he loved them.
Yes, crocs would charge and snakes would lunge, but he would respect when the animal deemed its boundaries well crossed and let it go back on its merry reptilian way.
This was the Tone for my childhood. My education of wild animals was Steve Irwin talking about how beautiful this deadly crocodile was, how majestic and chill and peaceful coexistence could be.
It was Jeff Corwin screaming and yelling at people at the discovery of a snake carcass, killed because of ignorant fear of it. It was harmless, and lost, and scared, and decapitated and he was livid. Why? Why would you do that? It was non-venomous, it didn’t want to be where it was any more than you wanted it to be where it was – why didn’t you call someone to release it?
And now it’s just… “Everything is murderous and animals will eat your face and everything is Ruthless Killing Machines”
and just.
I feel like I’m watching my own father’s work be tainted whenever AP is on. It’s so upsetting.
Because education and understanding don’t sell ad time.
Also why so much of Shark Week has become LET’S PISS THIS THING OFF TILL IT TRIES TO BITE US. “GREAT WHITES ARE MINDLESS KILLING MACHINES AND THEY WANT TO EAT YOU PERSONALLY, SUSAN.” is a lot more ‘exciting’ than “These things are gigantic and they feel with their very sharp mouths but they don’t actually mean anything by it they just don’t know what you are (also you taste nasty to them get over yourself.)”
u know what … i changed my mind… all u scientists out there who worked ur butts off just to have your research purposefully ignored by the government… do your science thing and bring back the dinosaurs… catch them ignoring you when a velociraptor is our next president…. like ding dong what’s that? it’s science, it doesn’t care about your silly ignorant opinion… it’s back with a vengeance… and it’s hungry, bitch
I hadn’t considered Jurassic Park as a solution to the Dump Truck presidency but I’ll take it
"Accidentally capture the wrong base"? .....tell us more? Please?
this was before we got agent agent back as our handler, and part of the reason why he finally turned up for work again.
so the thing about clint is that hes 1. not a good listener and 2. hes deaf. mostly. these are separate issues because being mostly deaf doesnt stop him from understanding what people are saying most of the time, it just means that you have to be sure he knows youre trying to communicate with him before you say something. (and also that you should make sure your mask doesnt cover your mouth so he can lipread, but whatever.)
we had this agent—incredibly boring guy in the worst sort of way–who’d requested clint, nat, and i for an op. nat and i were supposed to hit two of the leaders of a crime syndicate while clint got the third. easy peasy, kill some guys, free some hostages, small country liberated, total cakewalk. but the agent running the op and the briefing took FOREVER. he was talking us through like none of us had ever overthrown a country before, explaining every minute detail. nat and i could just kinda zone out and let things wash over us, picking up the pertinent details, but clint cant really do that. his hearing aids help but they weren’t perfect, so he also had to be kinda lipreading just to keep up. which takes a lot of focus for incredibly boring info. naturally he zoned out too.
which was how he missed the fact that his guy was not actually staying in his incredibly fortified base-slash-villa. his hostages were, but he wasn’t.
luckily, they covered this in the briefing packet we were each provided with, which was a mere 362 pages.
so obviously none of us actually read it.
we poked through, got blueprints, guard schedules, alarm systems and so on, but didnt bother with most of the rest of it.
they dropped us in the air over each of our respective targets, clint last. i had the cliffside resort, nat had the downtown headquarters, and clint had the base-villa. nat and i handled ours like pros, of course, corpses everywhere, and clint did too–mowed right through the security, got the hostages, and then called in that his syndicate leader wasnt there, what the hell, who gave me this bad intel.
which was when he was informed that the big bad wasnt IN the villa, he was on the ISLAND ACROSS from the villa, and that hed been supposed to covertly infiltrate the beach house there and quietly capture him. ideally without ever setting foot in the villa; he was just supposed to steal a boat from the villa docks and not get spotted by security.
unfortunately, clint had blown up all the watercraft at the villa’s docks to keep syndicate members from escaping. which meant he still had to get to the island and capture this guy, but now there were no motorboats left. and if this syndicate jerkoff got away, fury was gonna have his hide.
and thats how clint wound up launching a one-man amphibious assault on an international crime syndicate from a paddleboat.
i just received a text from my best friend that said “so i think i’m gay” out of literally nowhere
so i’m like “dude sweet for real just like suddenly you realized or?”
and she says “well i pretty much just had sex with a girl so”
AND THEN DOESN’T ANSWER ME FOR AN HOUR
HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT AND THEN NOT EXPLAIN IT AT ALL
update: she couldn’t answer me because was still banging the girl
I wish this wasn’t so glaringly fake cause it would be kinda funny if it were real but its not real so its not funny and I’m being redundant for the purpose of conveying shut the fuck up and don’t make up bullshit for notes
i just scrolled back three months into a conversation to prove you wrong lmao bye bitch get off my fucking post
THE POST GOT BETTER
every time i see this i sit and read the whole thing bc it just makes me laugh. every time
You know, I always feel a little sorry for Master Dennet. The Inquisitor is like, hey, I need a horse expert! Here is a horse expert! And he comes along to be your horse expert.
And for a while all is well. He brings his own fine horses, and the Inquisitor adds to the stable as she finds new breeding stock—often excellent. Where she got the charger from, he doesn’t know, and he feels too honored by having it in his care to ask.
And then the Inquisitor starts coming back with like… deer. And Dennet scratches his head, because he knows horses, and just because it has four hooves and you can put a saddle on it doesn’t make it a horse. Hell, the food and space and exercise requirements for a cob and a draft horse aren’t the same—a goddamn deer is presumably completely different. But he goes around Skyhold rounding up Dalish elves until he finds one who knew something about halla, on the principle that that’s probably the closest thing, and they work it out. (He’s always respected the way Dalish treat their halla, so it’s not that big of a leap. And even though Dalish—the Charger—doesn’t know anything much about how to raise halla, he looks the other way when she wants to spend half a day in the deer’s box stall being all affectionate at it. Can’t hurt.)
But deer of various kinds are at least still… well… grass-eating hoofed animals. Things don’t begin to really go sideways until they bring back the first dracolisk.
It’s a lizard. It’s a giant meat-eating lizard. Dennet is a master of horse, and he will stretch that to deer in a pinch, but asking him to figure out the care and feeding of big spiky lizard things is a bit much. It is—he tries to explain, first to Cullen and then to Josephine and finally to the Inquisitor herself—as if someone had decided that because you knew how to knead bread, you were obviously a master pugilist, because both things involved punching things. For his trouble he got a friendly clap on the shoulder and a “Just do your best! We can free up some funds to hire you more help!” (help from where? was he to hang up fliers somewhere for dracolisk handlers? where exactly was one supposed to go for that?).
(We will not even discuss the zombie horse with a sword through its head. We will not. The zombie horse got a stall to itself and was studiously ignored, on the principle that it was dead, and not much Dennet did could either help or hurt it.)
Dennet knew that he was in over his head and then some when the Inquisitor showed up with a charming grin and a giant fucking nug, and all he thought was, “Better see if any dwarves know what to feed it.” (Dagna does, but he’s a little afraid because she keeps having these ideas for ‘experimental feed,’ and….)
Hey guys, so I wanted to add to the humans are weird thing that’s going around, and this kinda came to me in the shower, so…enjoy?
Zah Rem was dying. They knew it the moment the Ra-Sek corridors
of the station began to feel cold. It had been easy to dismiss the chill at
first. The Humans always kept the main corridors to a barely tolerable 24
degrees Celcius, the Terran unit of heat. So Zah Rem had kept to Ra-Sek
corridors, content to survey the movement of their officers from the comfort of
warmer areas.
But then they had Stopped in the Ra-Sek sustenance area. The
area was used infrequently as most of the new officers preferred to communal
sustenance area, and so some time had passed before a Terran ensign
accidentally stumbled across them. The human had run to get help, and that’s
how Zah Rem found themself in the infirmary, a heat unit glowing above their
bed as machines monitored every pulse of their internal fire.
To the Ra-Set, the Cooling was a very private matter. It was
some small mercy really- a natural death for a Ra-Sek happened over the course
of only days, and after the initial passing ceremony the Ra-Sek left the dying
in peace to contemplate their life. At least, that’s how it had been before.
A human, mouth closed
in a Ra-Sek neutral expression, sat at the end of their bed, eyes occasionally
flicking between the machines and their pad. This one was the human counterpart
of Zah Rems previous station and they knew this one well. She would not be
leaving unless the dying process miraculously reversed. Humans always seemed to
treat this like a logical possibility.
Zah Rem had lived such a long time, even for a Ra-Sek. They
had seen the rise of space travel for their people, the first contacts with
other races, some friendly, some hostile. They had seen stars flicker out of
existence. And then, they had seen the arrival of Terrans. What a ludicrous,
terrifying thing that had been.
The humans had arrived in strange, nonsensical machines
seemingly only barely capable of long distance space travel. Most of them had
arrived asleep. The Ra-Sek had initially been very wary of this smaller race. Humans
could regulate their own body temperatures. Humans lived short lives but took
life-threatening risks, seemingly for pleasure. Humans reproduced quickly and
freely, having offspring even in space, so far from their own world. Humans
would fight, losing limbs they could not regenerate, and then fight more.
In short, they were too dangerous not to make allies of. And
so the Ra-Sek had, and in their many years, Zah Rem considered this one of the
wisest choices of their people. The humans had helped them explore planets
previously thought uninhabitable. They had seen human shipmates run headfirst
into aggressive unknown flora and fauna and categorize it, collect it, and make
it known. In one instance, they had seen the entire brunt of humanity brought
to bear on a now extinct warmongering race, simply because this race had been dubbed
“bullies that don’t play fair”.
The human shifted in her chair. “Hey dragon, still alive?”
Zah Rem exhaled a plume of steam. They knew this word
referred to them, and that it was a reference to a Terran creature that may
have never even existed. They had seen a picture once, and they did see the
similarities to a Ra-Sek. That didn’t mean they had to answer.
The human sighed and flicked her eyes up and across, a human
gesture of annoyance. “I know you’re alive, your monitors are going. I wanted
to ask if you need anything.”
“Need? I am dying, there is nothing more I need.”
The human curled her upper lip, almost perfectly mimicking
the Ra-Sek gesture of annoyance. Human mimicry really was uncanny. “I know
that, but, is there anything you want? Water? Food? A book? Are you just…gonna
sit there until it happens? Aren’t you…y’know, uneasy?”
Now that was a strange word to use for this state, and Zah
Rem wondered if their translator had translated the Terran Common incorrectly. “Uneasy?
Why would I be…Uneasy?”
The general shifted in her chair again, suddenly transfixed
by her pad. “Well, I mean, are you…afraid?”
Zah Rem tilted their head, trying to mimic a gesture they had
seen humans use. “Why would I be afraid? I am dying, this is a normal process
for all living things.”
The human seemed frustrated, and Zah Rem once again saw the
wisdom of their own tradition of leaving the dying to cool in peace.
“I know that! I
just mean…aren’t you afraid of what happens next? Like, to you…after you die?”
her shoulders curled inwards.
After…death? Zah Rem snorted. “Nothing happens after death.
Death is the end of life…is it…is it not so for Terrans?” A pang of fear
twitched in Zah Rem’s core. Humans…died completely, true? They thought of all
their deceased human shipmates the other humans had burned, or buried under
soil, and suddenly they were…uneasy.
The general waved at
the air “Don’t call us that. And yeah, yeah, human’s die all the way too-“Relief.
“But, some humans…we have this…idea, that a part of us, the sentient part,
lives after we die. And, I don’t know where it goes, but death comes to collect
it, and guide it to where it’s supposed to go next.”
“Death…comes? As in, the concept of death is…sentient? and… travels to the location of the dying to
take their consciousness? Where? Why?” Zah Rem’s internal fire quivered, and the
monitors began to chirp and hum in complaint.
“Woah woah take it easy!” Their human counterpart stood,
touching their forelimb gently. This gesture would have been aggressive among Ra-Sek,
but they had long since learned that humans touched other beings freely. Her
hand was warm, and the heat soothed Zah Rem’s own heat. The monitors quieted.
“Y’know what? Forget I said anything, it’s just a dumb
Terran myth. You wanna see this picture of a cat I found?”
And, for once, Zah Rem really, really did.
The next few days passed quietly. Healers checked the
monitors as discreetly as possible and the general was a constant presence,
sneaking back in every time the Ra-Sek healers shooed her out. For the most
part, she worked on her pad, guiding the directors of her officers. Zah Rem was
mildly envious of this, but they felt the cooling settling in, and they were
content to reflect on past action instead.
Well, mostly content. Try as they may, Zah Rem could not
shake the idea of death as a sentient presence, and tendrils of fear began to
snake into the waiting, fear that, like in so many impossible ways, the humans
might be right about death. They did not want their consciousness to be taken. They
took to scanning the room when their human wasn’t looking.
This fear was probably what exacerbated the process. It
happened suddenly, their internal temperature falling, falling, and the general
was shouting, calling for help and Zah Rem knew they were beyond help, nothing could
help, but they were so afraid of Death being attracted by the cries, if only
they could-
And suddenly they were alone in a space that was not bright,
and was not dark. They…no longer felt cold, but not warm either. It made Zah
Rem…uneasy. And then they heard footsteps, and in the distance there was a
small flicker of light.
The light drew closer and closer, and with it Zah Rem began
to make out a figure in strange clothing. The figure wore long, black clothing
that flowed downward, with a hood that obscured the head. It was carrying a
long stick with what looked like a small ball of fire on top. They also saw the
glint of long, sharp looking metal, reminiscent of a Terran knife.
Zah Rem bared their teeth. A weapon. This must be Death. If
it was, it wouldn’t steal their sentience without a fight.
The figure closed in.
“Stop. Come no further.” Zha Rem growled. “I am Zah Rem of
the Ra-Sek. I have seen races rise and fall. I have seen stars flicker out of
existence. I have fought alongside humans.
I will not let you take my consciousness.”
There was a moment of silence. And then a strange sound came
from the hooded figure. A soft, musical sound, not unlike a Ra-Sek trill, very
much like…a human laugh. The figure lowered it’s hood.
Of course, Death would be a human.
Zha Rem felt the anger leave them all at once. The human
smiled, mouth closed, and reached its dark hand out to touch Zha Rem’s forelimb.
Their touch was warm, and Zha Rem felt the warmth coil around their core, lighting it once again.
i keep thinking about how inconvenient that room above cullen’s office is, though it has potential. like what if the inquisitor just walks in during a meeting. people turn to look at her, and she just silently climbs the ladder up. they eventually turn away after she reaches the top. then they hear something hitting the ground–the inquisitors shirt. then the rest of her clothing piles up on the floor from the upper room. everyone slowly turns to cullen as he looks up, “it’s time for you all to leave.”
i still maintain that anakin was great with younglings (and we have canon proof that he was a good teacher)
but anakin as a role model is a completely different matter. like the council probably had to put a stop to weekly lessons with master skywalker after one stormy afternoon at the temple
youngling, timidly raising her hand: master anakin, what happens if your lightsaber gets hit by lightning?
anakin: great question! come on, kids, let’s grab our rain ponchos and find out!
in other words, anakin is a more chaotic, less education-oriented ms frizzle
Among my many headcanons is the fact that while Anakin is great with kids, and a good and willing instructor in many areas, there is still an absolute ban on him going anywhere near the speeder bay with anyone below the rank of Jedi Knight.
“Master, I heard you’re the best pilot in the galaxy. Is that true?” “I won a Podrace when I was nine and I once made my Master vomit over the side of a speeder.”
Also, he once taught a group of Padawans how to reprogram a bunch of Temple droids. Hilarity ensued–for the Padawans, that is. The Council…wasn’t so pleased.
nah, the hall pass/lockdown drill thing is something we do in my aussie school too. hall passes are accountability and are a (somewhat ineffective) method of reducing truancy. there are indeed people who cut class quite often, hence the hall pass (though we call it something diff here) and while you could argue that it's one's own responsibility to take care of one's studies, the school legally has a duty of care to us which gets problematic when someone is unaccounted for (cont.)
(cont.) just in case something were to happen. now, the ineffectiveness is because we don’t log toilet trips and so on into the school network, and rely on paper. if your student is missing carrying the only written record of them leaving at so-and-so time to go to the locker/toilet, what the hell is the use of that? the end goal is to make sure you’re in class as much as possible, because the point of a school is, after all, to educate. as a student, the place we are supposed to be (cont again)
(cont. 3) during lesson times is in class, learning. the point of kids going to school and then cutting class IS inherently contradictory to the point of a school, and i do not find that outrageous. now, one of the phrases most kids in my mandarin class (not in aus, though, this was a while back) could speak accurately was, translated, ‘teacher, can i please go to the toilet?’ i suppose it’s respect for the teacher/school as well as making sure you go where you’re supposed to be going. (cont)
(sorry this is getting so long) getting to lockdown drills and so on, we do those here too. it’s just safety. we understand the likelihood of someone showing up to school with a flamethrower or grenade launcher or simply handgun is not awfully high, hence why the kids dont take it so seriously, but the adults are Dead Serious because there is always a risk and people should know how to react. like i said, its simply safety (cont but i swear last one)
(sorry) teachers and admins have to know who’s out of the classroom and where they’re going (or where they say theyre going), not only to verify truancy and accountability stories, but also in the event of an evacuation (fire/shooters/freak floods/elephants raining from the sky), then emergency responders know where and for who to look. so i dont find it all that outlandish. sue them, theyre taking precautions. (thanks for the long read lol)
First of all, this was genuinely a fascinating trip through Australian school regs.
Second of all, particularly in the US…I still feel like a lot of problems could be sorted out with tighter gun regulations. That being said, yeah, I think there’s something to be said for knowing where your students are because, like, damn people definitely just wandered off in the middle of the day at my high school. THAT being said, I think US schools get a little…obsessive.
Third of all, in the interest of full disclosure, I can guarantee you’ve never seen a school give less of a fuck about student safety than my high school, in this context. So like I dunno if I’m the best source on this one.
So that makes Steve Patro.... Patty. And Bucky is Achilles? (I can't spell. :x)
Yeah, Patroclus would be default-Steve and Achilles is the unfortunate victim of getting a bit mindwiped. Which incidentally is not how I would assign those roles if, say for example, I was going to do some kind of reincarnation plot. Because literally the entire post-CA:TWS plotline can be summed up as “sing, o muse, of the wrath of Steven Grant Rogers when you fuck with Bucky Barnes,” which means that obviously Steve is the golden god-born hero of legend and Bucky is his anchor to mortal life and the cause for great ruin of their many-armed enemy upon his death at their hands. Complete with Pyrrhic victory.
help i just finished a psych analysis of a dogme 95 movie i didnt watch and im gonna give it back today for 15% of my final grade why am i like this
If it makes you feel any better, I have to research and write three chapters of my thesis in the next month, so…like, at least you’re not the only one who’s like this.
okAY so maybe ive been thinking a lot about that winter soldier/tsoa/iliad thingy you posted and maybe i have also written like... a bit on it, but so WHaT huh
gwendoline christie utterly epitomises the “get u a girl who can do both” meme. girl can stalk across a scorched battlefield dressed in full armour & covered in men’s bloodAND float down the red carpet in a gorgeous flowy dress and high heels looking like the actual personification of spring and sunshine. warrior harbinger of death and floral goddess. when will ur fav ever. when will anyone get on gwendoline’s level.
#okay now I need the movie #where they’re the four horsepersons of the apocalypse #except they’re all a bit disgruntled with their job assignments #so they decide to throw a spanner in the works #it would be like good omens but with more stabbing
(tags via @madmaudlingoes and may I just say that is an awesome idea? XD)
1. Progesterone: not for everyone, but for many people it may increase
sex drive and WILL make your boobs bigger. Also effects mood in ways
that many find positive (but some find negative). Most doctors won’t
prescribe this to you unless you ask. Most trans girls I know swear by
it.
2. Injectible estrogen: is
more effective than pill or patch form. Get on it if you can bear
needles bc you will see more effects more quickly.
3. Estradiol
Cypionate: There is currently a shortage of injectible estradiol
valerate. There is no shortage of estradiol cypionate. Functionally they
do the same shit.
4. Bicalutamide: This is an anti-androgen that
has almost none of the side-effects of spironolactone or finasteride.
The girls I know who are on it are evangelical about it.
Are there HRT medications that don’t increase blood clot risk? I’m already at risk because of my blood pressure, and my doctor won’t prescribe HRT that increases clot risk while I’m on the medication - and I may never not be on the medication.
Absolutely.
The concerns surrounding venous thromboembolic events as a side-effect of hormone replacement therapy can mostly be traced back to one particular study known as the Women’s Health Initiative. This study was an enormous undertaking which, unfortunately, demonstrated significant adverse effects of the hormone therapies studied. As a result of this the use of hormone replacement therapy in postmenopausal cis women was dramatically reduced as the medical community began to question whether or not the therapy caused more harm than good.
Naturally, trans women have been suffering from this fall-out ever since.
What physicians seem to fail to recognize is that the study examined a very specific hormone regimen which was, arguably, outmoded at the time the study was conducted: It examined the use of conjugated equine estrogen (Premarin) with or without the use of medroxyprogesterone acetate. Neither of these drugs is regularly used for the treatment of transgender women.
The estrogen most commonly used to treat transgender women nowadays is 17β-estradiol either in pill form or in the form of a sticky patch that you apply to your skin. Esters of estrogen (e.g. estradiol valerate) are also sometimes used either in a pill form or as an intramuscular injection.
Transdermal estradiol patches are the gold standard when it comes to treating women who are at high risk of a venous thromboembolic event. It simply does not increase the risk of developing a venous thromboembolism. The only thing you should keep in mind is that patches are not always well tolerated because of the lifestyle changes required to keep them from falling off and the fact that they tend to irritate the skin.
It’s difficult to find hard numbers regarding the relative risk of venous thromboembolic events with regards to hypertension. The best I could find after an hour or so of searching was this study regarding VTE in lung cancer patients. Hypertension increased the risk by a factor of 1.8.
As far as the anti-androgen is concerned: The primary use for spironolactone for cisgender people is as an antihypertensive.
Even if the risk of thromboembolism was truly significant with modern hormone replacement therapy it wouldn’t justify what your doctor is doing to you. The fact is that mortality in the transgender community from suicide–caused in part due to the lack of access to hormone therapy–is substantial. The quality of life lost when a trans woman is denied hormone therapy is substantial. The fact that your doctor does not appear to be taking this into consideration when they weigh the risk of thromboembolism against not receiving necessary medical care is deeply concerning.
I strongly recommend that you seek a doctor who is more sensitive to your medical needs as a transgender woman.
Edit: Fixed a minor, but embarrassing, error.
oh wow this is so helpful & good info
Everyone who cares about transfem people please reblog this
this was really fucking helpful
I know a lot of trans women dont have acess to information like this and its very helpful.
In American schools, if students move from one classroom to another during the day, which is the norm in middle and high schools (roughly age 11 to completion of school), the whole school does so at the same set times during the day. Being in the hallways at these times is Passing Classes, which is fine; being in the hallways at any other time is Roaming the Halls. A student who is Roaming the Halls is presumed to be Up To Something, and may be stopped and interrogated by any member of staff who witnesses said Roaming.
Of course, it does occasionally happen that a student has a legitimate reason to be in the hallways outside of designated passing times. In those situations, the student carries a pass (”hall pass”) which can be presented to any member of staff who stops and interrogates said student. Usually, the pass is written on a form that is signed by the teacher who authorized the student’s presence in the halls: at my school, the form had spaces for student’s name, date, time, where the student is going, and from whence the student is leaving.
Filling out the entire form every time a student wants to go to the toilet is a pain in the ass, so some teachers use some other form of pass. In my day, it was either just a regular pass that was pre-filled and laminated, or a block of wood with the classroom number and “Bathroom” written on it. Apparently nowadays, using some cumbersome and humorous object as the bathroom pass is A Thing.
This is all regarded as completely normal, so much so that I have explained it in what may be a tedious amount of detail, because I’m unsure what part of it strikes you as unusual. How is this situation handled where you went to school?
By raising your hand, saying you need to use the bathroom, teacher saying okay and you going. Nothing else.
So if another teacher sees you on your way there, they just…mind their own business?
That would never work here.
Would it never work there because of actual logistical issues, or do you mean people would not accept it as a safe solution?
Over here if a teacher sees you (they’re all in class anyway too so it’s unlikely anyone would be in the hallway during class unless they have a reason) they mind their own business, unless you’re dicking around or actually doing something troublesome or loud, or if they know you and know you’re supposed to be somewhere else, and you’re clearly not going to the bathroom. Or if they’re in a shitty mood and wanna yell at you for sitting on the windowsill which was forbidden in my school but nobody cared anyway.
Otherwise, no, no one’s gonna care. Not in high school, anyway- but in lower grades yeah because the kids are younger, but elementary schools will usually have a custodian walking around the halls. They’re still not gonna question kids going to the loo.
Would it never work there because of actual logistical issues, or do you mean people would not accept it as a safe solution?
Short answer is, the second one. Long answer is, the American school system is permeated with a sense that teenagers are this chaotic force that must be contained at all costs. (I’m right now having this very clear sense-memory of a hall monitor * saying “You can’t just roam the halls any time you feel like it!”** in the same sort of tone in which one might say, “You can’t just stab people any time you feel like it!”) It’s not even so much a matter of what you might do while out in the halls unsupervised; the very idea of teenagers Roaming the Halls (of a school, which is full of both teenagers and halls) is understood as being inherently contradictory to the purpose of a school. It isn’t even that you might go somewhere you’re not supposed to be; it’s that at any given time, there is only one place any given student is supposed to be. A hall pass creates a temporary change in your prescribed location, without undercutting the fundamental principle that your location should always be prescribed.
(*My school had professional hall monitors–grown adults who were paid a salary to keep order in the halls.)
(**At one point one teacher issued me a Permanent Hall Pass, for Reasons, essentially licensing me to roam the halls whenever I felt like it. I forget how long that lasted, but eventually a hall monitor stopped me with it and was, naturally, convinced it was fake. They hauled me to the office and were like, “We’re going to call down TeacherName and show her this,” and I was like, “Please do.” So finally they did, and she was like yes, that’s my signature, yes, I wrote that; what are we doing here?” I ended up getting detention anyway, “because the policy is that if a hall monitor brings you to the office, you get detention.” The teacher was also instructed to never issue an open-ended hall pass again.)
Today’s question: is the USA actually a giant prison?
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WHAT THE HELL????????? What if you have no class in the middle of the day? We’d just hang out in the halls. Not everybody went to the library or sth. I probably spent a year of my life in the halls. It was actually kind of a way to socialise with people.
Yeah, there’s even a stock phrase as Gaeilige which is about the first thing you learn in school (my dad taught it to me before I started Big School, i.e. age of five) asking for permission to go to the bathroom.
If a teacher sees a kid hanging around the corridors instead of being in class, they may ask them what they’re doing and wait to see if they head off to where they say they’re going (the usual dodge is “Miss/Sir, I have to get my books out of my locker”) but there’s no Hall Pass or any of the rest of this.
Dear America, why is your education system so strange?
Well for one, there’s never supposed to be a period where kids aren’t in class. There’s no study hall period, no free period, and you’re carefully monitored when you go to and from class as well as to and from lunch period. The idea is that, if kids are free-roaming, they’re going To Do Something like leave school (truancy) or cause some sort of problem.
But really, its more about training children for future jobs where their employers will treat them exactly the same way. If you are not in class/working, then you are doing something wrong.
You’ve also got to understand that, in American schools, not only is there a serious lack of trust between teachers and students, but also that the school systems will try to cram AS MUCH CLASSES into one day at a time to “maximize learning.” This includes having extremely short lunch breaks and hall passing times (I swear lunch breaks in my elementary school were like ten minutes long, which contributed to how fast I wolf down my food to this day. I also distinctly remember passing time being only three minutes at my middle school and having a panic attack on the third day of school because i couldn’t get my locker open and I was that afraid of being caught skipping class). Oh, and by the way, we watched a documentary in high school that took place in a prison once, and I was shocked at how much the prison in question actually DID look like a high school.
schools operate on the premise that All Teenagers Are Inherently Criminals
Added to this, since the late 90s, teachers and administrators also have to know who is out of their classrooms and why and for approximately how long, so they can make an accounting of which kids might be in the path of a random shooter.
Because it’s more important for adults to have the FREEDOM to amass huge arsenals of guns than it is to protect the physical and emotional safety of children.
My daughter has been in school for six years (she’s 10), and she and her classmates have had to practice hiding in the classroom corner in silence with the lights off about twice a year.
American students and teachers now go about their business every day with the background knowledge that at any moment, a kid with his dad’s guns can show up and try to slaughter them all.
Tell me that doesn’t do something to your psyche.
By the time you hit high school you don’t bat an eye at lock down drills or hall monitors. They’re pretty much part of the scenery. According to my friend who was a grade below me, they stopped letting kids have free periods at all after i graduated. Previously, they would lump your classes together and either you could leave early or come to school late, but it was a steady stream of classes.
American schools are also basically wide open to the public if you come in the front door. So hall passes are supposedly for child safety too.
