“Many people, encountering fanfiction for the first time, wonder why so much of it is erotic. Anne Jamison, in Fic, gives a pretty good answer: a lot of fanfiction questions mainstream assumptions about gender, sexuality, and desire. But writing erotic fanfiction is also a wonderful game. The fanfiction community might be the first place where a woman is encouraged to enjoy her sexual fantasies and praised for the dirtiness of her imagination. Writing and reading fanfiction is a social, communal activity, and considering how much shame is still attached to the expression of female sexual desire (what’s so funny about it?) the creation of shared erotic fantasies is still radical.”—Introduction to The Communications Officer’s Tale, The Fanfiction Reader: Folk Tales for the Digital Age (via francescacoppa)
“While many people think fanfiction is about inserting sex into texts (like Tolkien’s) where it doesn’t belong, Brancher sees it differently: “I was desperate to read about sex that included great friendship; I was repurposing Tolkien’s text in order to do that. It wasn’t that friendship needed to be sexualized, it was that erotica needed to be … friendship-ized.” Many fanfiction writers write about sex in conjunction with beloved texts and characters not because they think those texts are incomplete, but because they’re looking for stories where sex is profound and meaningful. This is part of what makes fan fiction different from pornography: unlike pornography, fanfic features characters we already care deeply about, and who tend to already have long-standing and complex relationships with each other. It’s a genre of sexual subjectification: the very opposite of objectification. It’s benefits with friendship.”—Francesca Coppa, “Introduction to The Dwarf’s Tale,” The Fanfiction Reader (via rembrandtswife)
Rachel: Was it love at first sight, for you? Tobias: Mm… no, truthfully. It was more like terror at first sight. Falling in love took, oh, an hour or so.
“Look, Naomi, I know Rachel. She’s not the useless type. She doesn’t stand there and scream helplessly. She makes other people do that.”—Tobias reassuring a worried mother, probably (via incorrectmorpherquotes)
<p>
<b></b></p><p> <b>Random Assailant:</b> [grabs Rachel] We walk out of here unharmed or the girl gets it, all right?</p><p></p><b></b> [Marco sniggers]<p></p><b>Jake:</b> I hope you're not going to kill anyone.<p></p><b>Random Assailant:</b> That's up to us!<p></p><b>Jake:</b> Sorry, was I talking to you?<p></p><p></p>
“You know those days you sometimes have? The days that seem totally ordinary when you wake up, but by the time you go to sleep that night, your whole life is divided into before that day and after that day? This is one of those days.”—Jake in the first book, probably (via incorrectmorpherquotes)
as someone whos experienced multiple traumas, i do have ptsd but i don’t have any way of getting professional help for it! idk if thisll help but here are a bunch of resources that help(ed) me and might help u if ur in the same situation <3
record your thoughts uncensored. notebooks are preferable but a word document, voice recordings, whatever works for u. keep all ur stuff about trauma here. resources, quotes, ur own Personal Journey, document it all! keep it safe
confide in something or someone. find an outlet where u are mostly honest w urself/ur situation/ur thoughts. having a supportive network, even if they don’t know ur whole situation, rly helps! if u don’t have anyone irl, its honestly so okay if all of ur friends are on the internet (as long as youre safe)!
try to do something small every day. that can be taking two minutes to relax and do nothing, or saying one nice thing about urself, it doesnt have to be a whole hour of workbooking or w/e! any progress is good progress! it doesnt have to be every day either
not all coping mechanisms are equal. if a coping mechanism starts doing more harm than good, wean yourself off of it, replace with a healthier one. (for example, self harm is an unhealthy coping mech. taking a walk or watching tv might be healthier for u).
use a variety of resources. ofc find what works best for u, but also use many sources to research etc so u don’t end up w biased info! i tried to link a variety of resources here (website articles, pdfs, tumblr posts) but if u find ur own, make sure its not like Bad idk.
lmk if i linked or said smth bad please! i dnt want to hurt anyone & also if u want more detailed trigger warnings for something, lmk and ill do that !!
anyway I LOVE U ptsd is so rough and even if u don’t have it bt uve experienced trauma i love u. its hard to rebuild urself afterwards. its okay if u realize ur different now. keep going ur gna b okay!
he asked, sounding defensive. He was quiet a moment. Then, abashed, he said.
‘Your relatives are jerks and they didn’t deserve you,’ Rachel snapped.
”—
Book #31: The Conspiracy, pg. 42 (by K.A. Applegate)
Okay but just let me, like, get this off my chest.
I feel like a lot of the various ghost writers didn’t have a super great grasp on how to deal with Tobias’ background which, like, hey y’all, no judgment, I’m told it’s hard to generate authentically fucked up family dynamics without shall-we-say hands on experience. (Actually the person who wrote 33 did really well, particularly the scene with Tobias’ near-death hallucination/what-have-you and every time I read it I need to physically remove my heart from my body in order to make it stop causing me pain but A N Y W A Y.) But this person, who wasn’t even writing a Tobias book, I think presented one of the most authentic moments of Kid Who Was Pretty Fucked Up To Start With accidentally reminding all his friends who are More Freshly Fucked Up that his life has literally always sucked. Like, this person nailed the FUCK out of this particular exchange.
It’s how casual it is. I think I saw someone comment once that Tobias seems almost uncaring in this book which…yes? I mean, it’s not so much that Tobias doesn’t care, he cares very much, but he just has NO point of comparison. But it’s the totally casual nature of this comment that makes it seem natural. This seems like a totally logical statement on Tobias’ part, and the revelation that it’s not is upsetting to him. Not because he’s profoundly distressed in the moment about his family, but because he’s experiencing a shift in worldview–something he viewed as normal, maybe even as a positive, is an indicator of neglect. It’s a weird feeling. And this exchange NAILS THAT FEELING.
Also, Rachel’s clear and evident rage on his behalf makes me really happy.
Remember when the Ellimist was like “how about we pit seven of your ultimate killing machines against my six accident-prone teenagers and a hardwired pacifist” and Crayak was like “there is obviously no trick here, I don’t see how this can possibly go wrong”.
Imagine aliens coming to Earth and having translators that work perfectly. Except they don’t pick up on tone.
Tone has a HUGE impact on a message. Consider the following sentence:
“You look nice today.”
Now repeat it stressing each word one by one.
“YOU look nice today”, implying someone else that you are probably indicating with your body or to whom you’d previously referred does not.
“You LOOK nice today”, implying that you don’t smell/sound it.
“You look NICE today”, thus turning what would otherwise have been a casual remark into a compliment. You don’t just look nice. You look damn fine.
“You look nice, TODAY”, which is clearly an insult purpoiting that you usually look like crap. Damning by faint praise, as they say.
And all of these are possible - and wildly differing - meanings to a simple four word sentence.
In this scenario, super secret plans could be discussed in front of the aliens with them being none the wiser simply by saying it à la Mean Girls. Should war between the two factions emerge, humans would win by the power of passive-aggressive bitching
Going off how the Humans are Space Orcs and “Humans bond with anything despite obvious danger” that annoys the rest of the alien crew, think about them being introduced to earth oceans
After all it’s common to have to always remove their human from unknown likely dangerous life forms despite constant protests and that they were only “playing”
they start to notice that their human never really speaks of their earths sea creatures, which makes sense as the humans organs aren’t equipped to survive in that environment despite being able to “swim” (it is a common theory discussed that humans could survive if given no option to otherwise as that’s what they always seem to do)
curious and nervous, a rookie of the crew, decides to ask (the veterans have learned not to ask about earth as it always ends in confusion and horror)
Only to be told that “they aren’t really sure”, in human speak this can mean many things. One is that they never looked, another is that they were honestly telling the truth.
Confused, they ask again as surely the species that does everything to fulfill their curiosity would surly know what fills 75% of their surface?
Only to be told of creatures that are the length of their ship with a jaw just as wide. Of creatures that glow to attract and trap their pray. And that there was never a pod that was created could withstand the pressure of deepest depths. Or if it could, the visual feed would always disappear within rows of jagged teeth. And that are only the stories that have been proven. There are stories of the old ages, of creatures that could drown you with the sound of their voice, of things only seen in the shadows with a glimpse of sharp teeth.
Humans don’t go in the ocean, they learn. Humans that are made of iron and steel, known to bond with anything, and a curiosity that defies all known logic don’t dare to explore the depths of their own planet.
The crew learn that the only thing to terrify their human are the creatures that lurk in the oceans of their own earth.
Everything must seem tame to them compared to the monster planet that they call home.
And suddenly, things make sense.
I am 100% convinced that “exit, pursued by a bear” is a reference to some popular 1590s meme that we’ll never be able to understand because that one play is the only surviving example of it.
Seriously, we’ll never figure it out. I’ll wager trying to understand “exit, pursued by a bear” with the text of The Winter’s Tale as our primary source is like trying to understand loss.jpg when all you have access to is a single overcompressed JPEG of a third-generation memetic mutation that mashes it up with YMCA and “gun” - there’s this whole twitching Frankensteinian mass of cultural context we just don’t have any way of getting at.
no, but this is why people do the boring archival work! because we think we do know why “exit, pursued by a bear” exists, now, and we figured it out by looking at ships manifests of the era -
it’s also why there was a revival of the unattributed and at the time probably rather out of fashion mucedorus at the globe in 1610 (the same year as the winter’s tale), and why ben jonson wrote a chariot pulled by bears into his court masque oberon, performed on new year’s day of 1611.
we think the answer is polar bears.
no, seriously! in late 1609 the explorer jonas poole captured two polar bear cubs in greenland and brought them home to england, where they were purchased by the beargarden, the go-to place in elizabethan london for bear-baiting and other ‘animal sports.’ it was at the time run by edward alleyn (yes, the actor) and his father-in-law philip henslowe (him of the admiral’s men and that diary we are all so very grateful for), and would have been very close, if not next to, the globe theatre.
of course, polar bear cubs are too little and adorable for baiting, even to the bloodthirsty tudor audience, aren’t they? so, what to do with the little bundles of fur until they’re too big to be harmless? well, if there’s anything we know about the playwrights and theatre professionals of the time, it’s that they knew how to make money and draw in audiences. and the spectacle of a too-small-to-be-dangerous-yet-but-still-real-live-and-totally-WHITE-bear? what good entertainment businessman is going to turn down that opportunity?
and, voila, we have a death-by-bear for the unfortunate antigonus, thereby freeing up paulina to be coupled off with camillo in the final scene, just as the comedic conventions of the time would expect.
you’re telling me it was an ACTUAL BEAR
every time I think to myself “history can’t possibly get any more bananas” I realize or am made to realize that I am badly mistaken
It was an actual, TINY bear. Just. like a babbeh polar bear.
well, here’s a story about a plane. one steve did not actually jump out of.
a rare tale indeed.
if youve ever been in the military–any branch, really–you’d know that everyone in every branch thinks their branch is best. this is not a new thing, and it was certainly going strong during wwii. mostly it just meant that if a bunch of marines wandered into an army bar there would be a fight, but honestly it was all in good fun, just a way to blow off steam.
so of course there was a friendly rivalry between us howlies and the pilots we hung around with. most of the pilots and crews we knew were transport guys, not bombers, but we got around more than most units and wound up spending a few weeks stationed near the 97th bombardment group. the 97th was made of b-17s, these huge bomber planes called flying fortresses–and they earned the name, those birds were basically the tanks of the sky. they ran a 10 man crew, and we got friendly with the spectacular idiots of the Pistol Packin Mama. as you can tell from the name of their plane, the were exactly the kind of guys who would get along with a group of people called the Howling Commandoes.
but rivalries being what they were, pranks happened.
the pistol packers fired the opening salvo. merrifield, Mama’s copilot, was probably the mastermind behind it; he was a good tempered guy who never passed on a pun. which was why for the first prank, the pistol packers stole all our underwear. haha, commandoes.
such an affront could not stand. we put shoe polish on the rims of their headsets, and they came off mission with black rings on the sides of their faces. they hid dead fish in our barracks. we salted their coffees.
the usual nonsense.
but then we came back one night to discover that every one of our footlockers had been painted with ‘EAT IT.’
and that, my friends, sparked a whole new wave of stupidity.
morita was the genius behind our retaliation. during wwii, VD was a major concern, and condoms were widely available for any soldier who wanted or needed them. each of us went separately and got as many as we could get our hands on. steve’s face was red enough he couldve been used to flag down a plane. the quartermasters probably thought us howlies were about to host the biggest orgy camp had ever seen, but by the time each of us had contributed to the stash, we had some 300-odd condoms.
so that night we went and broke into the airfield. we were highly skilled troops, it wasnt that hard. gabe mumbled something about using our skills for evil, but soon enough we had found the Pistol Packin Mama, all glorious 104 feet of her.
she’d taken a few hits on their last run, and was awaiting maintenance before she went up again. luckily for us, the repair crews were a little swamped, and it would be a few days before they got to her. so we climbed aboard and set to work.
anything we could fit a condom over got wrapped. joysticks, armrests, controls–all of it got covered in latex. the remaining 250 condoms we inflated. theres nothing more manly than a bunch of soldiers sitting around in a bomber blowing up condoms. and after about four hours of macho dick balloon making, we were near ready pass out from lack of oxygen. but we’d also managed to about half-fill the Mama with condom balloons.
our work done, we sneaked back to the barracks and fell asleep.
as i understand it, merrifeld realized he’d forgotten a lucky picture of his girl inside the Mama, and went back to pick it up. he opened the hatch and a rain of condoms descended on him, which attracted attention from pretty much everyone else nearby. the pistol packers got crap about it from everyone for weeks. eventually, they came to us and declared truce. as a gesture of good faith, steve offered to do some nose art for them.
so steve painted the Pistol Packin Mama. and how a man who cant ask for condoms without his face turning the color of a stoplight can paint a larger than life half naked lady on a plane calm as you like, i will never understand.
Languages are made up can you believe that? it’s just a bunch of phonetic sounds gibberish none of it actually means anything. this post??? i could smash my hand on the keyboard and it could mean the same thing, it only doesn’t because we say so. Nothing is real
jacques derrida is gonna rise from his grave and give you a high five bc you just described his theory to 75,000 teenagers and they listened
I had thought this would fit particularly well in your de-aged slave children AU. Because this Anakin, whose identity as a slave is known by everyone as far as he’s aware, doesn’t have his older self’s reticence to divulge his past.
Picture this:
Baby Anakin becoming enthralled by a particular piece of tech. A very shiny, cutting edge piece of tech. The kind of which he only dreamed he could get his little desert rat fingers on before. And of course since this is an army on the move the piece of tech is a weapon system.
And the adults clones are like, maybe we should not let the little 3.5 years old, mechanical genius or no mechanical genius, play with things that are lethal.
So one of them picks him up, sets him down at a safe distance, and tells him he shouldn’t touch it.
“Do you know why?”
“yes, sir. It costs more than I do.”
Have I mentioned I love your brain? Because I do. Baby Anakin would totally say that, voice pitched in that sing-song tone of a child repeating something he’s been told a thousand times before. “And if it breaks, I’m the one getting sold to replace it,” Anakin says, finishing the threat more familiar than the sound of his own name.
OKAY BUT IMAGINE THE REACTIONS
Rex just kind of stares at him for a really long moment, trying to process what the tiny, child version of his general just said.
In fact, all the clones in earshot are staring.
And finally, all Rex can get out is, “I-I…no. No, it’s dangerous, and we don’t want you to get hurt.” Which sounds lame, even to his own ears but what in the hells does he say to that???
yeah but later could u imagine the clones comparing notes since they cost money too.
“the general was a slave”
“yeah he said he’d cost less then –”
“so about how many of us would he have cost then?”
Today I figured I’d write a bit about an interesting phenomenon in Scandinavian folklore: the concealment of the true names of some of our wild animals.
The idea that a true name holds magical power is fairly universal; it pops up in everything from Egyptian mythology to German fairytales, and nowadays it’s a pretty common fantasy trope too. In Nordic folklore in particular, it was often believed that speaking the true name of a dangerous creature could actually summon it. For example, the English idiom “speak of the devil (and he shall appear)” has as its Swedish equivalent “speak of the trolls (and they stand in the hallway)”, stemming from the belief that trolls would appear if you mentioned them by name.
Now, what’s really interesting about all this is the way it’s shaped the Swedish language. You see, the danger of speaking a creature’s name out loud also applied to wild animals that were feared in the old days: bears, wolves, and so on. As a result, people invented new names for these animals - false names, if you will, that could be spoken without risk. Nowadays, such false names are said to be “noa words”, while the true names are “tabu words” (these terms are borrowed from Māori, just like the English word taboo).
Over time, the noa words for many of these animals became their de facto names. That’s just kind of how language works: call something an X enough times, and voilà, now its name is X. Even today, many of our animals’ true names are archaic words that a Swedish speaker would never use naturally. Here are some examples:
Wolf:The true name of the wolf is ulv, which shares its etymology with the English word. Ulv is archaic; the average Swedish speaker would recognize it, but never think to use it. Instead, we say varg, which originally means something along the lines of “killer” or “criminal”.
Magpie: The true name of the magpie is skjora. This word is still in use in some dialects, but most Swedish people would not have heard it, and it is not officially recognized. Instead we say skata, meaning “something long and thin” or “something that sticks out”, referring to the tail. The magpie might not seem like an animal to be afraid of, but they were considered bad omens, thieves, or even harbingers of death… and besides, have you ever been swooped by a magpie?
Fox: The true name of the fox is räv, and in this case, it has actually remained in usage. I guess the fox wasn’t intimidating enough for its name to become completely forbidden, hehe! In the old days, farmers would sometimes refer to the fox as Mickel to avoid summoning it. You see, foxes weren’t direct threats to humans, but they did have a tendency to break into hen houses and run off with the chickens. (This is also why foxes are known in our folklore for being cunning and sly, rather than outright dangerous). I’m not entirely sure why the farmers chose to refer to the fox by what is essentially a Scandinavian version of “Michael”, but I did a bit of digging, and it turns out that old Danish uses Mikkel as a generic insult for an incompetent or foolish man. So, I guess it’s a little bit like calling the fox an asshole.
Bear: The true name of the bear has been lost to history! No one actually knows what they were originally called, since all Germanic languages use “bear” or some variation thereof, and Slavic languages use medved (meaning “honey-eater”, from what I gather). In any case, the contemporary Swedish word is björn, which - like the English word - seems to just mean “brown”. Historians speculate that the true name of the bear might be similar to the Greek ἄρκτος (arktos), but I guess we’ll never know.
There are more examples on Swedish Wikipedia, but sadly there seems to be no article in English. Still, I hope you learned something interesting from all this!
Now, imagine the kind of power we would have if we knew the bear’s true name…
Yes, a deer. A three-day-old baby deer. It was a terrible idea. When the students rocked back up to the field station with it, we told them off for stock rustling, took it to the farmer who was like, what the fuck am I going with that, I’ll have to cut its throat and use it for dog meat, and we were like, uh, no, so we took it to the SPCA, who were DELIGHTED.
I THOUGHT A “FAWN” WAS SOME KIND OF OBSCURE GEOLOGICAL TERM I DIDN’T UNDERSTAND
YOU PUT A BABY DEER IN A BACKPACK
More geology field shenanigans!
Respected professor claims our hydrochloric acid solution is less acidic than coca cola. We dare him to drink it. HE DOES.
Hiking up a mountain on crutches. “YOLO!”
Painting Cambrian-age trilobite fossils with nail polish.
Creepy abandoned fishing villages. So many creepy abandoned fishing villages.
Student finds brachiopod fossils in an outcrop behind said creepy abandoned fishing village. Respected professor gasps and squeaks “Brachiopods??!?” and goes tearing off up a hill to find them.
Students collect so many rock samples that we can no longer see the floor of the 15 passenger van. The van floor begins to develop its own stratigraphy.
Racing the roadside moose in the 15 passenger van.
Respected professor takes both hands off of the wheel of the moving van to get a picture of the moose. Panic ensues.
Mapping an island with nothing but a Brunton compass, a field notebook, and the largest bottle of fireball whiskey money can buy.
Respected Professor singing along to “Man-Eating Trilobite”
Entire class goes to local bar and won’t stop singing local drinking song for about a week.
That one vegan student that survives off of french fries for a month.
Stealing rock samples from National Parks
Straddling the moho
Licking the moho
Peeing on mantle peridotite just to see if it fizzes
Using the same pocket knife for everything. Eating. Scratching rocks. Removing splinters. Seriously, it’s gross.
Hiking down a river only to discover the water level is MUCH HIGHER than anticipated
Nearly drowning in said river but damn it you kept your electronics DRY
“It’s not safe to drink the water. So everyone gets 2 beers per meal”.
Fitting the entire class into a single hot tub
Every lobster is named Jack Daniels. It is known.
That one “Chinese Canadian Fusion” restaurant
*DID* IT FIZZ?
my husband was once Responsible Adult on a geology field course and the highlight was when I was calling him and it was like
Dr Glass: Oh, an undergrad’s just thrown his compass into the sea.
Me: is that… part of the exercise?
Dr Glass: *nonjudgmentally* well…
(an unearthly, animal roar is heard over the phone)
Dr Glass: Ah, now he’s going into the sea.
Me: …To get the compass?
Dr Glass: I think he just wants the sea to take him.
(a peaceable, nonjudgmental silence follows, with distant splashing)
Dr Glass: Well, I think I’ll go get him now.
I wanna know the lyrics to “Man-Eating Trilobite”.
-Leaping away from rattlesnakes you can only hear, not see.
-Playing “hide the rock”
-Loosing your compass because it flipped out of your holster while you were peeing on the outcrop, which was actually a win, because it’s so hot out that usually you don’t pee all day.
-Flinging your rock hammer (i.e. lightning rod) and running like mad because a thunderstorm suddenly hits.
-redrawing cross-sections at night while the tent bows inward from the force of all the insects trying to get in.
-finding dead things and getting unreasonably excited because it’s something other than a rock.
-Listening to a professor sing WWII german army songs…
-Trying to keep up when drinking with a European and regretting it one hour later.
-Climbing up an outcrop and then realizing there is no reasonable way to get down.
-Eating at the last restaurant open in town because it’s 9 pm and camp is still not set up.
-Losing half your caravan when there was only one time the road split.
-Inspirational night pees out under the milky way.
Oh, god, this post keeps bringing back all my repressed college memories.
-Running away from angry cows
-Running away from suspicious, armed ranchers who think you’re from the govt
-Squatting to pee and falling over into a cactus
-Losing parts of your tent as you raft down the Green River; by the end of the trip, your tent no longer stands
-Having to ground your raft repeatedly in stands of seriously thorny salt cedars
so tonight I’m at synagogue, listening to the Purim Night reading of the Book of Esther, like you do
and near the end of this chapter my brain presents me with the following:
nooooo ooooone plots like Haman calls the shots like Haman plans a genocide by casting lots like Haman
(It only works with the Hebrew pronunciation of Haman, which, like Gaston, is accented on the second syllable.)
By the time we get home my brain has added:
for there’s none so well-favored and kingly yes, we all can be certain of that he’s so rich that his pockets are jingly and he looks really sharp in a three-cornered hat
*face in hands*
Petition to sing this every year at Purim.
I shared this with my dad, and he added:
No one’s spruce as Haman, Nor abstruse as Haman; No one’s half as good tying a noose as Haman! He’ll use gallows in all of his decorating! No one else hangs as well as Haman!
niiiiice
i know several people who will definitely appreciate this.
this is beautiful
oh wait
When I was a lad I hatched four dozen plots Every morning, to raise myself high… And now that I’m grown I hatch five dozen plots So all those who oppose me shall die!
Been seeing a lot of these Humans Are Space Orcs posts around- which is good, because I love them- and I started thinking: in sci-fi stories, humans in the future often have a bit of genetic engineering- like disease immunity or faster healing or even just a lack of body hair.
And I had a thought- what if that’s just us? What if we’re the only species to engineer ourselves like that? Imagine how freaked out they’d be;
“You’re telling me that you alter your own genetic code?”
Or take it a little further- we’re the only species to use vaccines. Every other race just toughed it out and evolved past it, but humans injected ourselves with weakened diseases to make ourselves stronger.
Or even further back, when people used to drink poison to gain an immunity- imagine that reaction:
“OH MY GROP THEY DRINK POISON TO GET STRONGER THAT’S IT FUCK THIS PLANET I’M OUTTA HERE”
Equally, what if we’re the only ones who don’t use genetic engineering on a mass scale? Like, we just make machines that’ll adapt for us, and everyone else does it by biology - much slower, but much less chance of it breaking down at the critical moment?
Imagine a species who’ve spent decades adapting a small group to colonise a planet with an inhospitable atmosphere, almost ready to start their mission, and along come the humans like “masks on, lads, here we go!”
And imagine the reactions that humans get when they come along in their environmental suits. Like, we have everything our bodies need to survive in our suits and then we go off and explore. We use our suits to set up shelter that we can live in without our suits.
And the aliens are uber-confused by the fact that we don’t wait to adapt to an environment. We go with what we’ve got and then change the planet to meet our needs. (“What do you mean your bodies aren’t suited for this environment? Why are you here then? Wait, you can deal with it because of that mask?”)
Can you imagine how frustrating it must be when they’ve spent years adapting a group to survive a planet they want to colonize and humans just show up and go, “Eh, we’ve got breathing masks. Let’s go!”?
