I work at a kindergarten and this is a collection of cute Wonder Woman related things that happened within a week of the movie being released.
On Monday, a boy who was obsessed with Iron Man, told me he had asked his parents for a new Wonder Woman lunchbox.
A little girl said “When I grow up I want to speak hundreds of languages like Diana”
This girl had her parents revamp her Beauty and the Beast birthday party in THREE DAYS because she simply had to have a Wonder Woman party.
Seven girls playing together during recess on Tuesday, saying that since they all wanted to be Wonder Woman they had agreed to be Amazons and not fight but work together to defeat evil.
There is this one girl that refuses to listen to you unless you address her as Wonder Woman.
Another girl very seriously asked the teacher if she could ditch her uniform for the Wonder Woman armor bc she “wanted to be ready if she needed to save the world”. The teacher laughed and said it was okay, and the next day the girl came dressed as Wonder Woman and not a single kid batted an eye.
They are making a wrap-up dance show, and they asked the teacher if they could come as superheroes, they are going to sing a song about bunnies.
This kid got angry and threw a plastic car over his head and a girl gasped “LIKE IN THE MOVIE”
A boy threw his candy wrapping in the floor and a 5-year-old girl screamed “DON’T POLLUTE YOU IDIOT, THAT IS WHY THERE ARE NO MEN IN TEMYSCIRA”
On Wednesday, a girl came with a printed list of every single female superhero and her powers, to avoid any trouble when deciding roles at recess.
I was talking to one of the girls that hadn’t seen the movie, and the next day she came and very seriously told me “you were right, Wonder Woman was way better than Frozen.”
Consider this your friendly reminder that if this movie completely changed the way these girls and boys thought about themselves and the world in a week, imagine what the next generation will achieve if we give them more movies like Wonder Woman.
Women have more power and agency in Shakespeare’s comedies than in his tragedies, and usually there are more of them with more speaking time, so I’m pretty sure what Shakespeare’s saying is “men ruin everything” because everyone fucking dies when men are in charge but when women are in charge you get married and live happily ever after
I think you’re reading too far into things, kiddo. Take a break from your women’s studies major and get some fresh air.
Right. Well, I’m a historian, so allow me to elaborate.
One of the most important aspects of the Puritan/Protestant revolution (in the 1590’s in particular) was the foregrounding of marriage as the most appropriate way of life. It often comes as a surprise when people learn this, but Puritans took an absolutely positive view of sexuality within the context of marriage. Clergy were encouraged to lead by example and marry and have children, as opposed to Catholic clergy who prized virginity above all else.Through his comedies, Shakespeare was promoting this new way of life which had never been promoted before. The dogma, thanks to the church, had always been “durr hburr women are evil sex is bad celibacy is your ticket to salvation.” All that changed in Shakespeare’s time, and thanks to him we get a view of the world where marriage, women, and sexuality are in fact the key to salvation.
The difference between the structure of a comedy and a tragedy is that the former is cyclical, and the latter a downward curve. Comedies weren’t stupid fun about the lighter side of life. The definition of a comedy was not a funny play. They were plays that began in turmoil and ended in reconciliation and renewal. They showed the audience the path to salvation, with the comic ending of a happy marriage leaving the promise of societal regeneration intact. Meanwhile, in the tragedies, there is no such promise of regeneration or salvation. The characters destroy themselves. The world in which they live is not sustainable. It leads to a dead end, with no promise of new life.
And so, in comedies, the women are the movers and shakers. They get things done. They move the machinery of the plot along. In tragedies, though women have an important part to play, they are often morally bankrupt as compared to the women of comedies, or if they are morally sound, they are disenfranchised and ignored, and refused the chance to contribute to the society in which they live. Let’s look at some examples.
In Romeo and Juliet, the play ends in tragedy because no-one listens to Juliet. Her father and Paris both insist they know what’s right for her, and they refuse to listen to her pleas for clemency. Juliet begs them – screams, cries, manipulates, tells them outright I cannot marry, just wait a week before you make me marry Paris, just a week, please and they ignore her, and force her into increasingly desperate straits, until at last the two young lovers kill themselves. The message? This violent, hate-filled patriarchal world is unsustainable. The promise of regeneration is cut down with the deaths of these children. Compare to Othello. This is the most horrifying and intimate tragedy of all, with the climax taking place in a bedroom as a husband smothers his young wife. The tragedy here could easily have been averted if Othello had listened to Desdemona and Emilia instead of Iago. The message? This society, built on racism and misogyny and martial, masculine honour, is unsustainable, and cannot regenerate itself. The very horror of it lies in the murder of two wives.
How about Hamlet? Ophelia is a disempowered character, but if Hamlet had listened to her, and not mistreated her, and if her father hadn’t controlled every aspect of her life, then perhaps she wouldn’t have committed suicide. The final scene of carnage is prompted by Laertes and Hamlet furiously grappling over her corpse. When Ophelia dies, any chance of reconciliation dies with her. The world collapses in on itself. This society is unsustainable. King Lear – we all know that this is prompted by Cordelia’s silence, her unwillingness to bend the knee and flatter in the face of tyranny. It is Lear’s disproportionate response to this that sets off the tragedy, and we get a play that is about entropy, aging and the destruction of the social order.
There are exceptions to the rule. I’m sure a lot of you are crying out “but Lady Macbeth!” and it’s a good point. However, in terms of raw power, neither Lady Macbeth nor the witches are as powerful as they appear. The only power they possess is the ability to influence Macbeth; but ultimately it is Macbeth’s own ambition that prompts him to murder Duncan, and it is he who escalates the situation while Lady Macbeth suffers a breakdown. In this case you have women who are allowed to influence the play, but do so for the worse; they fail to be the good moral compasses needed. Goneril, Regan and Gertrude are similarly comparable; they possess a measure of power, but do not use it for good, and again society cannot renew itself.
Now we come to the comedies, where women do have the most control over the plot. The most powerful example is Rosalind in As You Like It. She pulls the strings in every avenue of the plot, and it is thanks to her control that reconciliation is achieved at the end, and all end up happily married. Much Ado About Nothing pivots around a woman’s anger over the abuse of her innocent cousin. If the men were left in charge in this play, no-one would be married at the end, and it would certainly end in tragedy. But Beatrice stands up and rails against men for their cruel conduct towards women and says that famous, spine-tingling line - oh God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the marketplace. And Benedick, her suitor, listens to her. He realises that his misogynistic view of the world is wrong and he takes steps to change it. He challenges his male friends for their conduct, parts company with the prince, and by doing this he wins his lady’s hand. The entire happy ending is dependent on the men realising that they must trust, love and respect women. Now it is a society that is worthy of being perpetuated. Regeneration and salvation lies in equality between the sexes and the love husbands and wives cherish for each other. The Merry Wives of Windsor - here we have men learning to trust and respect their wives, Flastaff learning his lesson for trying to seduce married women, and a daughter tricking everyone so she can marry the man she truly loves. A Midsummer Night’s Dream? The turmoil begins because three men are trying to force Hermia to marry someone she does not love, and Helena has been cruelly mistreated. At the end, happiness and harmony comes when the women are allowed to marry the men of their choosing, and it is these marriages that are blessed by the fairies.
What of the romances? In The Tempest, Prospero holds the power, but it is Miranda who is the key to salvation and a happy ending. Without his daughter, it is likely Prospero would have turned into a murderous revenger. The Winter’s Tale sees Leontes destroy himself through his own jealousy. The king becomes a vicious tyrant because he is cruel to his own wife and children, and this breach of faith in suspecting his wife of adultery almost brings ruin to his entire kingdom. Only by obeying the sensible Paulina does Leontes have a chance of achieving redemption, and the pure trust and love that exists between Perdita and Florizel redeems the mistakes of the old generation and leads to a happy ending. Cymbeline? Imogen is wronged, and it is through her love and forgiveness that redemption is achieved at the end. In all of these plays, without the influence of the women there is no happy ending.
The message is clear. Without a woman’s consent and co-operation in living together and bringing up a family, there is turmoil. Equality between the sexes and trust between husbands and wives alone will bring happiness and harmony, not only to the family unit, but to society as a whole. The Taming of the Shrew rears its ugly head as a counter-example, for here a happy ending is dependent on a woman’s absolute subservience and obedience even in the face of abuse. But this is one of Shakespeare’s early plays (and a rip-off of an older comedy called The Taming of a Shrew) and it is interesting to look at how the reception of this play changed as values evolved in this society.
As early as 1611 The Shrew was adapted by the writer John Fletcher in a play called The Woman’s Prize, or The Tamer Tamed. It is both a sequel and an imitation, and it chronicles Petruchio’s search for a second wife after his disastrous marriage with Katherine (whose taming had been temporary) ended with her death. In Fletcher’s version, the men are outfoxed by the women and Petruchio is ‘tamed’ by his new wife. It ends with a rather uplifting epilogue that claims the play aimed:
To teach both sexes due equality
And as they stand bound, to love mutually.
The Taming of the Shrew and The Tamer Tamed were staged back to back in 1633, and it was recorded that although Shakespeare’s Shrew was “liked”, Fletcher’s Tamer Tamed was “very well liked.” You heard it here folks; as early as 1633 audiences found Shakespeare’s message of total female submission uncomfortable, and they preferred John Fletcher’s interpretation and his message of equality between the sexes.
So yes. The message we can take away from Shakespeare is that a world in which women are powerless and cannot or do not contribute positively to society and family is unsustainable. Men, given the power and left to their own devices, will destroy themselves. But if men and women can work together and live in harmony, then the whole community has a chance at salvation, renewal and happiness.
Okay, so the whole humans are space orcs/earth is space Australia thing has me thinking: what about grooming/pampering?
Like, a lot of us go to spas/salons (or do the cheaper at home versions) to literally get hair ripped from our bodies using a large variety of different methods, to obtain our own personal desired levels of body hair. And we call it pampering. What if humans are the only ones who do that? Aliens that cut/dye hair, comb/style it in totally unique ways to suit themselves, but pull it out completely? What kind of creature tortures itself like that?
And we have so many ways of doing it. Tweezing, waxing, threading, hair removal creams that can burn your skin to name a few.
Plus there are facials that leave your face red and splotchy for hours afterward because they pick at your skin to remove gunk.
Massages, where in order to feel good they have to hurt you to remove the tension from your muscles, so while eventually it feels good, it hurts first.
We twist ourselves into weird positions to paint our toenails because our knees get in the way (not so painful, but reasonably uncomfortable).
We are willing to sit still for obscene amounts of time to get our hair/nails/make up done, even though humans are notoriously fidgety.
So some aliens at first would probably think we’re super vain (and some humans are), but more experienced aliens would be like:
“no, that’s just something the humans enjoy. It’s how they ‘treat themselves.’”
“But, Skrill, she’s literally ripping hair out of her face?”
“It’s how she gets her eyebrows - how did she put it? - ‘on fleek.’ Compliment them, humans are thrilled when you compliment them when they spend a lot of time on face hair removal.”
Brenneth and Crispin 16 if you don't mind. Love your work. :)
Listen I just want you all to know that I expected to get zero (0) asks for this, MAYBE one from a close friend or my mother or something who was trying to humor me. And now I have Many. Like eight all told. I have no idea if this is just one really curious anon or if this story got popular but welcome to my kingdom, you may call me my liege.
16: Is there anyone who makes them feel inferior?
I mean, each other, tbh. And they have understandable reasons for this, which doesn’t help their respective buckets of Problems.
So, Crispin’s reasons for thinking Brenneth is better than him are pretty plain and simple. Crispin knows that he was the villain of their story, and as much as he might hate himself for it, he knows that Brenneth did the right thing. He knows that–regardless of whether he was necessarily compos mentis at the time–he killed a lot of people and attempted a takeover, and Brenneth was the hero who came in to stop him, no matter the cost. Beyond that, Crispin genuinely believes that Brenneth is a hero, talented and clever and stubborn and strong, and even though he has a very accurate grasp of his own skills and abilities, he’s always thought that Brenneth was severely underappreciated by the people around her. This translated into more than one extremely ill-advised attempt to get her to side with him during his stint as the White Wolf.
And like moreover Brenneth won. Brenneth isn’t just the hero, in Crispin’s mind, she’s the victor. Obviously she’s better than him.
Brenneth, on the other hand, has very similarly logical (if…debatable) reasons for her feeling that Crispin is better than her. First of all, she was passed over for the prophecy when they first arrived in Alleirat as kids, and that has an impact–Crispin was fated to be the great hero, according to the people who took them in, and Brenneth still feels some of that imposter syndrome, like she stole his title or cheated him out of it, even though he very much surrendered that right when he started murdering folk. Second of all, flat-out Crispin was better in combat for much of their time fighting each other. Like, it was an objective reality, he had trained as a warrior and a diplomat exclusively while Brenneth was both a blacksmith and a warrior. No level of natural talent (and Brenneth is very talented) can make up for that kind of time devoted to practice. Don’t get me wrong, she did a good job–she poisoned him once or twice, fought to the best of her ability when they clashed, tried to blind him one time–but Crispin was just having more success, better luck. There was even a time where he believed he had successfully managed to kill her (and in his defense, stabbing someone in the chest and burying them alive in an avalanche does seem pretty foolproof). By the end of their four years, the two of them were well-matched, almost perfectly equal in skill, but that time of knowing that Crispin was more competent left its mark. Brenneth believes–erroneously, perhaps, but no one can prove her right or wrong–that if she was as good as Crispin, she would have been able to save him from himself.
I was just complaining to my friend that my oldest sister didn’t know what to do the last time I had a convulsive seizure, and I ended up injured because of it. And my friend said that actually, they don’t know what to do when they see someone have a convulsive seizure, either.
So I thought I’d explain it to you. I’m not a doctor, and I have no medical training and not everything here will apply to everyone who has convulsive seizures, these are just the things that apply to me, and when in doubt, call an ambulance.
Here’s what you do:
Look around. Am I lying in the middle of a busy street or on the railroad tracks, or somewhere else dangerous, like in the bathtub? If yes, drag me to somewhere where I am not in imminent danger of being hit by a truck or drowning.
Am I somewhere safe, but lying near dangerous things like fire or knives or broken glass or pans of boiling water or anything that can hurt me? Move the dangerous things away from me.
My body will be convulsing. That means my head and my arms and my legs are rapidly hitting the ground. Put something soft underneath my head. If there’s a cushion right there, perfect. If not, wad up your coat or shove your shopping bag under my head. If there’s nothing immediately to hand that would take you more than a few seconds to grab, stick your feet underneath my head, it’ll work.
Am I wearing anything around my neck, like a tight collar, or a necktie, or a choker? Loosen it, so my airway is clear.
Don’t restrict my movements - don’t try to hold my arms and legs down. You’ve already moved all the dangerous things away from me, and cushioned my head, so don’t hold me down, unless it is necessary to keep me from doing serious harm.
Don’t put anything in my mouth. A lot of people think you need to stick your fingers or a spoon or something into the person’s mouth to prevent them choking on their tongue. Don’t do this.
Try to make a note of the time the seizure first started. If the seizure lasts for longer than five minutes, call an ambulance.
When the convulsing/jerking has stopped, roll me onto my side. If you know what the recovery position is, put me in the recovery position, if you don’t, just roll me onto my side, and check my airway. If I’m not breathing, or I’m having trouble breathing, call an ambulance.
It seems to be instinctive to help someone get back to their feet as soon as the seizure is over. Don’t do this with me. After a seizure, I’m in something called a post-ictal state. It makes me very, very confused, and lying on the ground or sitting somewhere soft is the safest place for me. If you pull me to my feet while I’m still this confused, I will walk directly into traffic or put my hand on a hot stove because I won’t know where I am, or what’s happening, and often I won’t be able to see at all for a few minutes. Keep me somewhere safe until I’ve fully recovered.
If I have another seizure before I’ve fully recovered from the earlier one, call an ambulance.
If you think I might be hurt, or you’re confused or not sure about what to do, call an ambulance.
That’s all there is to it. Make sure I’m not in immediate physical danger; cushion my head (but don’t restrain it); when the jerking stops, roll me onto my side and check my airway; keep me somewhere safe until I’m fully recovered, and if the seizure lasts a long time, or I have a second one, or you aren’t sure what to do or you think I might be hurt, call an ambulance. That’s it. It’s not hard, and I promise you can do this.
OP I hope you don’t mind me adding on to your super good (and accurate) post but, as it says above, don’t restrain a seizing person, please. There are medical reasons for this, beyond the fact that it’s alarming to come around while restrained. They might get lucky and be fine. Or they might be convulsing hard enough to tear a muscle or dislocate a joint if they’re restrained. Move them away from dangerous shit and cushion their head and note the time and then stop touching them.
I always get shit for using italics so much but you will take my excessive italics out of my cold dead hands because as far as I’m concerned each one of these is a completely different sentence:
“What the fuck are you doing here?” – this can be read a lot of different ways depending on context honestly. I mean it’s fine and there’s nothing wrong with it but two people could read it aloud in entirely different ways you know?
“What the fuck are you doing here?” – someone was startled and originally was just going to say ‘what’ but then they recovered and turned it into a complete sentence
“What the fuck are you doing here?” – someone’s really elongating the ‘e’ on that ‘the’ for emphasis, this person’s probably really obnoxious. although tbh they’re probably say it more like, “What. The fuck. Are you doing here?” wow what an asshole
“What the fuck are you doing here?” – this guy’s so pissed, this might be peter capaldi, i don’t know
“What the fuck are you doing here?” – this chick is at an exclusive party and her best friend just showed up without an invitation and at first she was just glad to see her but now she’s concerned
“What the fuck are you doing here?” – oh shit that bitch should have known better than to show her face here after what she pulled, it’s about to go down. actually that might have been her bestie right above this saying that right after someone said this.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” – not only has someone just shown up where they don’t belong but they’re doing something weird, they’re probably a secret teenage hero and all their friends think they’re on drugs
“What the fuck are you doing here?” – all the bars in all the world and you had to walk into mine, how did you even get here, you don’t even like bars, i didn’t tell anyone about this place i just filled a cave with some beer
5: List 3 fears; one “surface level” fear, one “repressed” fear, and one “deep dark” fear.
Um….
Surface level is that, ironically, Krei is afraid of fire. She’s a plant worker and briatan, tree-folk, meaning that she has a bit of a hereditary stress about fire. She herself isn’t flammable, no more so than your average human, but her instincts are kind of…jumpy about it. So was her mother, but given that Torei died in a fire, Krei has some serious nerves about the stuff. Both of them keep it pretty well on lock (sort of necessary working with a firesmith like Brenneth) and let other people light the campfire.
Repressed is a hard one to answer, because honestly Krei is pretty comfortable with herself. Her people live a long time–Torei was almost 600 at the time of her death (some 50 years prior to the start of the novel), and would have lived longer if she hadn’t died defending a village against a grief-stricken firesmith–and are often very powerful, which comes with a societal expectation that they get their shit together. That being said…I don’t know if this is going to make sense, but Krei is afraid that one day she’ll turn around and decide that her mother wasn’t enough family for her. Torei died when Krei was about 100, which is young to lose a parent for a briata (also Torei had Krei older than most briatan have children), but moreover most families are medium-to-large in Alleirat. Even if you assume a monogamous couple, as opposed to a poly constellation or an open relationship, you might have two parents, some children who might be biological or adopted (abandoning children is strictly verboten and a willing family is usually findable), and the amiasa or amdri (or both) of either or both parents, as well as grandparents and aunts and uncles and close family friends. The word ‘family’ is pretty lax in Alleirat. Krei’s family for most of her life was herself and her mother, with occasional but rare visits to Torei’s clan in the north forests. Torei meant the world to Krei, and this fear that Torei might not have been enough family kind of haunts her. There’s a word in Alleirai for ‘the amiasa of your parent’ and it means ‘more-than-uncle/aunt,’ and in theory Krei could use it as an affectionate term with Brenneth. It takes her a long time to come around to the idea that it’s not a betrayal of her two-person family to extend that to another individual.
Krei’s deep dark fear, as cliche as this is going to sound, is failing to keep people safe. Torei was a good mother, mostly kept her daughter from hearing the worst stories of the White Wolf, but Krei worshiped her mother, and the idea that even Torei and her mighty amiasa, the Fireheart herself, couldn’t save the Wolf’s victims instilled a conviction that failure is inevitable very early on. Krei’s about 150 now and she’s mostly gotten over her angsty teenage phase where she harped on it more obsessively (like…her 60′s to 70′s were rough), but it still drives her. She’s a very accomplished warrior, the captain of the latha, the elite guard of her city, but it chews her up every time someone dies on her watch.
28: Is there a certain type of person that disgusts them?
Well, traitors, if I’m being completely honest, which goes great with Crispin. Krei plays nice with Brenneth on the subject of Crispin because it’s clear that Brenneth is upset, and treats him humanely when he’s her prisoner because Krei has a moral backbone like solid oak, but she’s kind of fundamentally appalled by him. Not so much because he’s a killer–Krei has killed people, Alleirat still uses hangings, death isn’t a stranger to her–or even because he tried to take over, but she thinks of him as having betrayed his own kind. She is not wrong about this–Crispin readily admits that he turned on his teachers, his comrades, his countrymen, and his best friend when he became the White Wolf–but it’s more complicated than that. The fact that that loyalty and betrayal aren’t always clearly delineated, and that someone can be forced from one to the other against their will, is kind of a major plot point. Shiko is loyal…to a terrible person. Crispin turned traitor against good people, but because he felt like it was the only way to fulfill a task that had been set before him since childhood. Brenneth is loyal to Crispin past the point of reason. The complexities of loyalty are sort of A Thing here, and Krei’s ride-or-die loyalty hangup (which she shares with her mother) is something of a wrench in the gears.
It follows Sugar we’re going down (actual liner notes: wishing to be the friction in his jeans + the line about sleeping for the wrong “team”) and the other really LGBT fob song “Gay Is Not A Synonym For Shitty.” (“I’m supposed to love youuuu WHOAAAHHH) and of course Thks Fr th Mmrs (he, he tastes like you but sweeterrrr)
Uhhhh approved so jot that down
irrestiable says “mon chéri” meaning its about a man, so irrestiable is gay as well.
Also The (Shipped) Gold Standard has the line “I want to scream I love you from the top of my lungs but I’m afraid someone else will hear me” so that’s gay too
Heterosexuals aren’t allowed to listen to fall out boy anymore, I just decided
the first few weeks of the justice league actually being a team are probably a fucking nightmare. superman keeps using midwestern expressions. you’re not going to need paper towels to clean this up, you’re gonna need an irrigation system, he says. nobody is entirely sure what that means. aquaman keeps leaving in the middle of fights to go save lobsters from restaurants, because he can’t just let them get eaten, y'know? wonder woman quickly figures out that there’s maybe three people here with any serious combat experience. the flash is just a police officer, man. that’s all he knows. she’s in despair. speaking of the flash, someone made the mistake of giving him caffienated coffee, and now the power’s out. someone tell green lantern that he can’t wear the same gross jacket to every meeting. shouldn’t his space cop uniform keep him warm. who keeps playing ‘mmm whatcha say’ over the speakers. batman keeps disappearing during after battles, and it turns out he’s at the daycare down the street hanging out with the babies. he got bored
When I was 17 my appendix ruptured because I thought I was just having period cramps and didn’t go to the hospital so don’t tell me PMS symptoms are no big deal
this actually happened to me during my math final and i didn’t think anything of it and when i was later admitted to the hospital my math prof was asking me ‘you didn’t have to take the final! why didn’t you tell me it hurt?!?!’ and i told him i’ve had cramps worse.
he gave me 100
This is actually an extremely common occurrence simply because in sex ed they don’t teach you how to tell the difference between menstrual cramps and other more serious pains. The way to tell the difference between cramps and appendicitis is that while menstrual cramps are generalized toward the middle of the stomach below the belly button, pain from a swollen or burst appendix will start in the middle of the stomach and relocate to only the lower right side, even lower than menstrual cramps, and is a very localized pain. It also comes on extremely suddenly and will worsen over time or when you make a sudden movement, like a cough or a sneeze.
Basically, if you’re feeling any sort of pain, even if it’s menstrual cramps, don’t hesitate to tell the school nurse or a parent, or if you’re out of school and home even make a doctor’s appointment. Chances are if your cramps are that bad there’s something they can do to improve that as well.
I am boosting the shit out of that reply, because I am twenty-fucking-five years old and did not know how to tell the two pains apart
Adding another diagnostic tool! This is something we use in the ER called the rebound test. Basically, appendicitis and cramps react differently to certain things. If you’re still not sure if you have cramps or appendicitis, take two fingers and press them into your abdomen where the pain is (try repeating this on the lower right quadrant of the abdomen just to be sure.)
When you press in firmly, it will probably hurt. Here’s the test: LET GO. Does it get better or get worse? Appendicitis will immediately hurt worse when you let go. Cramps will not. Go to the ER if the rebound test makes it worse!
THE REBOUND TEST IS REALLY IMPORTANT.
My husband got sent home from the ER with a rupturing appendix. When he came back and was rushed into surgery, the surgeon was super angry – “Why didn’t anyone do the rebound test?!”
All great info, but there is another lesson to be learned here: if you’re in major pain, it’s probably important - so don’t let anyone tell you it’s not. There is a documented pattern of women who go to the ER with complaints of pain being dismissed as overreacting…when in reality women have an incredibly high tolerance for pain, to the point that some don’t even realize exactly how serious their condition is. These stories only serve to illustrate this point.
Solidarity between girls when one of their boyfriends fucks up is great. Group chat, screenshots, all the sudden it’s The People v Shit Boyfriend court is now in session is the prosecution ready to make an opening statement
The fact that this post picked up makes me laugh so hard
i realize i’m maybe like, the Nichest of markets here, but i really really really desperately want to watch further adventures of Diana Prince, Curator of Antiquities™
…like, imagine the interdepartmental meetings
Diana: we have recently acquired several exquisite pieces of very early minoan kamares ware. i feel a refresh of the gallery might encourage our visitors to–
some marketing dipshit: look, we can’t get people in the door for pottery. we need another big show, like can you get a vermeer or–
Diana of Themiscrya, Amazon, God-Killer, Daughter of Hippolyta: pottery is important
some marketing dipshit, lightly pissing himself: i agree
THIS but also I just wanted to add that although logic dictates that Diana has to move around bc of the whole immortal thing I’m so enamored with the idea of “Mlle. Prince Has Always Been At the Louvre” in which everyone who works there just thinks it’s too gauche to bring up that she should be 95.
oh my God, yes, headcanon 100000000% accepted
“non, emil. never again ask why her file system uses the pre-war numbering. you are new here. we do not speak of this.”
Also, Diana unconsciously handling the weapons like she’s prepping for a fight.
Because, as someone who has had training, it sticks. So, you pick up a sword to look at it (in, say, one of those weird shitty mall stores that sell bongs and incense and shitty wall hanger swords) and you kind of unconsciously drop into a stance a little bit, plant your feet, and maybe give it a practice twirl to test the balance.
Then you look around and realize that everyone around you has stepped back four paces and is eyeing you with a sort of wide-eyed combination of shock and terror.
And you’re just like ‘what. Also, this thing’s blade heavy’.
Okay, but when and how did Diana settle into being a curator in the first place? I assume she traveled a lot of places, maybe ending up in Egypt after a bizarre set of circumstances.
What I’m saying is maybe Diana of Themyscira meets one Evelyn Carnahan.
1) Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted.
2) Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.
3) Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.
4) Every sentence must do one of two things — reveal character or advance the action.
5) Start as close to the end as possible.
6) Be a sadist. Now matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them — in order that the reader may see what they are made of.
7) Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.
8) Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To heck with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.
Literally just from the first scene between
Escalus and his father discussing Rosaline I can tell you right off the bat
that I care 100x more about this politically fraught disaster of a relationship
than whatever tense affair they’re trying to arrange with Rosaline/Benvolio. Like, give me a relationship between two
people who genuinely love each other but are trying to deny it and betraying
each other because it’s the Right Thing To Do and doing massive amounts of
damage to each other in the process, and I will immediately and unhesitatingly
shove it into my awful maw with no regard for what canon tells me.
Rosaline being forced to live in the room of her
best friend who died for love while being forced into a marriage by the man Rosaline loves who also loves her
is kind of great to me? What if I wrote
a bunch of miscellaneous bullshit about Rosaline being haunted by Juliet?
I do not
care that much about Benvolio. Like, he’s
had a Rough Life™ and he Drinks And Sleeps Around and like…yeah, poor dude. Even though his carefully calculated descent
into artistic nerdhood endeared me to him for a hot second. Still don’t care. Maybe shove some backstory in there, throw in
some flashbacks, hit me with that gay Mercutio/Benvolio shit, ANYTHING to give
him a personality beyond ‘angry rich boy.’
Anyway. Moving right along.
“You make it sound like our noble lords are a
pack of dogs in the street.” …um, Escalus honey, they kind of are. There was a riot literally under thirty-six
hours ago.
I’m getting a lot of satisfaction out of
Isabella pulling the strings behind the scenes for selfish reasons—getting Rosaline
back as a friend, keeping her brother in power, retaining as much power as she can
for herself—as well as Protecting Her Home.
Also all of her clothes are real good.
Medical history aside: hey, look, boiling
oil. A+ historical accuracy, Paré’s
replacement for boiling oil only barely predated this and it’s entirely
possible for Livia to have learned that from her solider father. I’d also like to point out that this was not
standard procedure for sword wounds, as it was used to combat the supposed ‘poison’
of gunpowder, so like? Yeah, the nurse
being horrified is also totally feasible.
….I’m so pleased with Escalus for stabbing someone’s
hand, atta boy, but on the other hand I was really hoping for another
knock-down drag-out brawl at a serious formal occasion. Like, why else am I even here.
The way Rosaline spits Your Grace like her tongue is made of steel and her words are made
of poison is my life’s blood. Also
please have this become Escalus and Benvolio and Rosaline (and Isabella) all
having horribly tense meetings where they scramble to come up with a plan that
keeps Verona at peace without forcing anyone to get married. I just need a scene of all of them at each
other’s throats as they struggle to find a détente, with Rosaline throwing ice
cold cutting remarks left and right as Escalus fights to keep an even keel and
Benvolio is just generally an asshole (and Isabella cutting through the chaos
like a finely drawn blade with a plan that is terrible and awful and perfect).
ESCALUS, COMMIT TO SOMETHING. MAKE A DECISION ESCALUS. Something besides this sort of dangerously totalitarian
‘death for a death’ rule because, MY DUDE, you gotta at least give them a
trial.
Why am I still liveblogging this terrible
show? Why do I still love it so
much? It’s so bad and I’m enjoying the
literal hell out of it, guys, I don’t even know anymore.
Marco volunteers for the date immediately, as the only one on the team who is single and desperate. (Although, he admits, not desperate enough to sleep with a controller under any circumstances.) The thing is, though, that Sub-Visser Three-Eighty-One has a type: every guy Ax and Tobias have seen her flirting with in the two weeks they’ve been following her around has been tall, dark, and handsome.
Everyone on the team (especially Jake) somewhat doubts Jake’s ability to act well enough to play the part, but the only idea worse than sending Jake would be sending Ax to do it, so he reluctantly volunteers for the mission.
The setup goes more or less according to plan: Jake arranges to bump into the sub-visser coming out of a Sharing meeting, and to their enormous luck she becomes the one to ask him for a phone number. Jake suggests the time and the place, though, and doesn’t have to fake enthusiastic relief when she agrees.
The day of, Rachel spends nearly two hours dressing Jake in various combinations of the seven pairs of pants, eighteen shirts, and five and a half jackets that she bought for the occasion, before Jake throws up his hands and announces that he’s going naked if this nonsense doesn’t end soon.
Marco immediately declares that that would be a brilliant way to get Sub-Visser Three-Eighty-One dancing to their tune.
Cassie shyly volunteers the opinion that Jake looks nice no matter what he’s wearing.
Rachel tells them both to shut up, on the grounds that Jake getting arrested for public indecency would be just as bad for their plan as him showing up in the ill-fitting basketball shirt and ripped jeans he wore when he left the house this morning.
After Rachel’s initial attempt to teach Jake to flirt with her crashes and burns (“You’re the closest thing I have to a sister! I can’t just flirt with you!”) she substitutes Cassie into her own role. To her surprise, that manages to go even worse.
“Cassie,” Jake says, blushing so much he looks ready to pass out. “I like many things about you. You’re the sweetest person I know, and you’re brilliant at not just morphing, but, like, understanding the morphing. Oh, and you’re really smart at other stuff besides. You get people so fast, and there are all these things in science class that go way over my head that you pick up right away. And even though I was mad about it at the time, I thought it was cool that you saved those baby skunks—”
“CUT!” Rachel yells.
“You told me to compliment her,” Jake says indignantly. Cassie is currently examining the toes of her shoes with intense fascination, and appears to be fighting a fit of the giggles.
Rachel sighs loudly. “Not her personality. Think more physical.”
Jake takes a huge breath and draws himself up again. “You are, like, super strong for a girl,” he tells Cassie. “For anyone, really. That time when you pried that fox’s jaws open to make it vomit up the wolf poison—”
“CUT! Cassie, Marco, switch places!”
All three of them stare at Rachel in surprise for a second. Marco becomes the first to react, sidling up and sliding his arm through Jake’s. “So,” he coos. “Why’d a big strong man like you want to go out with little old me, anyway?”
“Because…” Jake glances at Rachel, who makes go on gestures. “Because of your hair. It’s very, uh, nicely done.”
Marco flips a few strands away from his face. “You really think it turned out okay? I only had time to run a brush through it a few times on the way over.”
“Yes,” Jake says firmly. “It is nice hair. And… you are… Notlikeothergirls!”
Marco bats his eyelashes, grinning now. “You really mean that?”
Jake attempts to smile as well. “I have never in my life met anyone like you, Marco. Seriously.”
“Now you’re getting it,” Rachel announces. She and Marco high-five at their own brilliance. Unseen, Jake and Cassie exchange a mutually baffled look and a shrug of bemusement.
Jake sets off for the date trailed fifty feet up by a red-tailed hawk and a northern harrier. He’s not sure why he’s wearing three shirts right now, or why the collars on all three are sticking straight up in the air (“Trust me,” Rachel insisted, “this is gonna be all over the country five years from now.”) like he’s a pastel version of Dracula. He’s also hoping he can take the weird flat sunglasses off soon—Rachel instructed him to hang them from the v-neck of his topmost shirt when he does—because the weather’s overcast and he feels ridiculous.
“What do we know so far?” he asks Tobias.
<Apparently, our dear little alien friend works in an arcade downtown, and is a big fan of shopping in her spare time. Likes: purple fabrics, smelling flowers, and spicy tacos from food trucks. Dislikes: dogs, dog owners, seriously don’t mention Homer, and small children.>
<Her selection of tacos was most excellent,> Ax adds. <The driver of that food truck adds large quantities of a wonderful substance known as Sriracha to his meat and meat by-products.>
<So we may have sampled the taco truck ourselves. Strictly for research purposes,> Tobias admits. <And yeah, Sub-Visser whatever’s got taste. Or Stacy does, jury’s still out on that one.>
“Stacy?” Jake asks, as loud as he dares.
<The name of her host?> Tobias says. <Seriously? Were you planning on walking up to her and being like ‘well, hello there, Iriess one-thirty-two’?>
“Stacy,” Jake mutters to himself, rather than admitting he forgot. “Stacy. Stacy, Stacy, Stacy, Stacy, Stacy.”
<And now you sound nuts, which should make a real good first impression.>
At Tobias’s urging, Jake stops at a stand outside a greengrocer’s and buys a dozen daffodils for her. He’s not sure if he’s allowed to take off the sunglasses when he’s standing under the shade of the awning, even though they make it very difficult to count out bills and change. He does know that he is not under any circumstances to push them back into his hair, because then all the gel will make a weird crunching noise and Rachel will boil him in oil when she finds his spikes deformed. He could probably fit the entire bouquet into one of the ridiculously large pockets on the pants that he’s certain are three sizes too large, but he tucks it under his arm instead. “I hate this,” he mutters.
<Be cool,> Tobias says. <If I could do meet-cute with Taylor in the middle of a coffee shop, you can survive ninety minutes of pumping a yeerk for recruitment tactics and Sharing plans.>
<I would recommend against bringing up Tobias’s decision to meet Taylor alone last March if you wish Rachel to leave the restaurant standing, Prince Jake.>
Jake gives them both a sickly smile of gratitude.
The initial meet’n’greet outside the restaurant goes reasonably well: Sub-Visser Three-Eighty-One exclaims over the daffodils, Jake remembers to call her “Stacy,” and with effort he ignores the skin-crawly sensation of Cassie (now a housefly) landing in his hair. By the time they make it into the restaurant, Tobias and Rachel are already posed at a different table with baseball caps in place, while Marco shuffles around in a white apron busing tables and Ax (despite eight or nine promises that this time he’ll be cool around food) remains safely out of sight and out of morph on the roof. If anything goes catastrophically wrong, the plan is for Cassie to alert Marco, who will create a diversion by overturning a dish cart while Rachel and Tobias hastily duck under the tablecloth of their own table—Rachel to morph, Tobias to demorph—as Ax provides everyone cover. Jake’s pretty sure that if his date wants to shoot him in the head there’ll be nothing the others can do in time to stop her, but at least he knows he probably won’t end up forcibly made into a controller by the end of the evening.
Rachel, blatantly eavesdropping even as she holds Tobias’s hand across the table and they stare into each other’s eyes (if anyone starts looking at them too closely they start loudly sucking face) has to admit that Jake does better than she would have expected. He asks “Stacy” where she got her shoes, laughs in a way that’s only slightly moronic when she compliments his sunglasses, and (after Tobias calls out a suggestion in thought-speak) even remembers to pull her chair out for her before she sits down.
As instructed, Jake waits until after they’ve already ordered their food to turn the conversation to the reason they went to all this trouble in the first place. He’s pretty pleased with how things are going so far, although then again he might just be light-headed from the smell of the instatan Rachel sprayed on him earlier.
“So,” he says. “You’re part of the Sharing, right? How’d you get into that in the first place?”
Ireiss 132 tosses a lock of Stacy’s hair over her shoulder. “My older sister got me into it, actually. She kept begging me and begging me to join, and then one time I just—Hey, you okay?”
Jake forces a laugh, doing his best not to think of Stacy, to think of Tom, to think but for the grace of God... “Sure. Just, uh, zoned for a second. So, the Sharing does a lot of recruitment events, right?”
<Don’t make her suspicious,> Tobias says unhelpfully. <Just keep her on her toes.>
“Yeah, we’ve got volleyball days, cookouts on the beach, whole weekends upstate…” She leans forward a little across the table. “You interested in joining?”
<Say yes!> Cassie suggests, at almost exactly the same time Tobias says, <Tell her ‘hell no.’> Marco, standing across the room, makes eye contact with Jake long enough to shake his head emphatically, just as Tobias adds, <Actually Rachel says to tell her yes.>
Jake closes his eyes for a second to find the patience not to swat at the back of his head and then throw a full plate of food at the next table over. “I don’t know, really,” he says diplomatically. “What do you guys do, anyway, besides sit around and eat hamburgers?”
“It’s all about community outreach,” Ireiss 132 says, apparently not noticing Jake’s hesitation. “We do days where we clean up litter at the park, we raise money to fund cancer research—”
<Of course they do,> Cassie says darkly. <Can’t have anything wrong with their prospective slaves, right?>
Jake, having missed the end of that sentence, has to make an educated guess. “Sounds pretty cool. Don’t you have, like, celebrity endorsements?”
“Oh, sure. There’s Jeremy Jason McCole, William Roger Tennant…” Ireiss ticks the names off on Stacy’s left hand. “That blond lady with the cooking show, Senator Malesin, Senator Argo, Angelina Jolie—”
<Angelina Jolie?> Tobias says.
Cassie gasps. <But she seems like such a nice lady on TV!>
<Who is Angelina Jolie? Is Prince Jake okay?>
<He’s fine. However, Rachel would like me to pass along a few comments with strong language about Angelina Jolie’s lifestyle, dress, and immediate ancestors.>
“Shut up!” Jake hisses.
Ireiss blinks at him a few times.
Jake clears his throat. “I just mean…” He changes his inflection. “Shut up! As in, you’re kidding me! You think maybe I could meet her sometime?”
“Join the Sharing,” Ireiss says. “We could make it happen. Once you get initiated as a full member your whole life opens up before you—you can’t imagine what it’s like.”
Jake forces another smile. He picks up his fork. This helps him to avoid giving into the urge to clamp both hands over his ears, slide under the table, and scream something about how they can never have his body. He can imagine the experience a little too well, and it’s not something he’s ever letting happen again.
Nonetheless, Jake manages to keep lightly deflecting Ireiss’s recruitment attempts while also digging for information, clear through until Marco—with a flourish—brings them a plate of mini cannoli for dessert. After he ducks away from their table he sweeps over to begin polishing the corner of Rachel and Tobias’s.
<Marco says he wants you to save him one, because they look delicious,> Tobias says a minute later.
Jake, who has just been distracted in the middle of Ireiss’s description of how they draw in community members to Sharing meetings, makes a mental note to define the term radio silence for the entire team when they get home. Then he picks up the last cannoli, very pointedly licks it, and puts it back on the plate uneaten.
<Marco says, and I quote, that there are ‘children starving in Montana’ that you are ‘not the man he fell in love with,’ and that he is ‘wounded to the depths of his soul.’ By the way, you do know not to offer to pay for dinner, right? Because you don’t actually want to get a second date out of this.>
“You were saying?” Jake says loudly.
Ireiss clears Stacy’s throat. “Oh, just that we really feel reaching out to vulnerable kids—as through the youth shelter I mentioned, and the after-school program—is the best way to offer them the Sharing as an alternative to gang membership.”
Jake dearly hopes that someone is taking notes on all of this, because if he suffered through the application of that much instatan for nothing he’s going to strangle someone. “That’s really cool. So is there, like, a place where you keep track of all the Sharing’s full members? Some kind of database or something?”
<Too strong, too strong,> Cassie says.
<Prince Jake, Cassie and Tobias have now been in morph for one-hundred-eight of your minutes. May I suggest that you put a wrap in it?>
<So close, Ax-Man, and yet so far.>
“…nothing that formal,” Ireiss is saying. “Hoping for more celebrities?”
“You know what?” Jake stands up. “It’s been real. But I’ve got a thing, so…”
Tobias is right: he emphatically doesn’t want a second date. Waving at Stacy, Jake pivots and walks out the door without another word.
They assemble in Cassie’s barn later that evening, Jake attempting to get one of Cassie’s horse-brushes through the horrible gel-stiff mess of his hair as everyone else trickles in. “Okay,” he says wearily, when they’re all present, “What did we learn today?”
“For starters,” Marco says, “That Tobias is apparently romantic as hell. Were I not healthily terrified of your beautiful and homicidal cousin, I would already be trying to hit that like a—”
<Before you can go any further, no.> Tobias glares at Marco. <Also, to answer your next question, I am also not interested in a threesome.>
“Besides that.” Jake rubs a hand over his face, smearing the makeup that Rachel insisted isn’t makeup across his skin. “What else?”
“I learned that, on second thought, lime green is not your color.” Rachel frowns. “I’m not sure the look works at all. You can take the boy out of the WalMart jeans, but you can’t take the WalMart jeans out of the boy, I guess.”
“Can we please stay on topic?” Jake asks.
“Angelina Jolie’s a controller.” Cassie smiles sympathetically at Jake. “So are two of California’s state senators, and a handful of B-list actors. The Sharing is recruiting at the youth shelter, which is just all kinds of gross and awful, and they’re making a push to move into more schools across the county.”
<Also,> Ax adds, <We have the names of several more businesses that have donated to the Sharing, and are therefore possible yeerk pool entrances. I suggest we start with further research on Burt’s Taco Truck, although I sincerely doubt that any yeerk would have that magnificent grasp of the subtleties of spicy and umami. Still, it warrants much more extensive exploration.>
They rehash everything Ireiss 132 said, hinted at, or confirmed in response to Jake’s questions for nearly two more hours. By the end of it they’ve got a decent plan in place for how to ensure the Sharing can’t spread any more feelers into any more parts of the community, and the beginnings of an idea for how to discredit the whole organization. By then it’s getting late, so Jake and Marco and Rachel all split off to head home.
There’s a note pinned on the fridge when Jake walks in. Midget— Some chick keeps calling the house wanting to know when she’ll see you again. Call her back or get rid of her, but stop clogging up the line with your dumb teenage nonsense.
Jake stares at it in incredulity for several seconds. “Goddamn yeerks,” he says at last, and balls it up to throw in the trash.
I’m usually pretty particular about the sorts of traits that get assigned as humanity’s “special thing” in sci-fi settings, but I have to admit that I have a weakness for settings where the thing humanity is known for is something tiny and seemingly inconsequential that it wouldn’t normally occur to you to think of as a distinctive trait.
Like, maybe we have a reputation as a bunch of freaky nihilists because we’re the only species that naturally has the capacity to be amused by our own misfortune.
Alien: Why are you happy? You’ve been seriously injured!
Human: *struggling to control laughter* Yeah, but I can imagine what that must have looked like from the outside, and it’s pretty hilarious.
Alien: …
Captain XXlr’y: First Officer Jane The Human, your olifactory protuberance is severely damaged! Why is this a matter for mirthful celebration???
First Officer Jane The Human: A SPARKLY LITTLE POMERANIAN THING WITH A GODDAMN UNICORN HORN CHASED ME STRAIGHT INTO A WALL! OH MY GOD! DID YOU SEE THAT? I RAN STRAIGHT INTO THE WALL.
Captain XXlr’y: Yes I just observed this sequence of events! It was terrible!
First Officer Jane The Human: OKAY WHO GOT THAT ON CAMERA, I WANNA SEE.
Captain XXlr’y: So you more fully understand that this is a situation you should never get into again?
First Officer Jane The Human: SO I CAN SEND THE VIDEO TO MY MOM!
Captain XXlr’y: For… for the solicitation of maternal concern…?
First Officer Jane The Human: NO, BECAUSE SHE’LL THINK IT’S HILARIOUS TOO.
viewings of the ancient human art based seemingly entierly around purposefully inducing misfortune are a source of constant xeno-anthropological arguments. As near as anyone can discern, these acts are some kind of core human performance form- so meaningful to their culture that recording these acts was very nearly the first concern on the invention of moving visual media.
Somewhat more disconcerting is the fact that these aren’t just recordings of accidental happenstance, but carefully choreographed, practiced, and refined to such a degree that there are nearly species wise recognizable symbols and routines performed.
There are thesis’ on ‘large wedding cake destroyed’, and hotly argued debate on the purpose of ‘Jackass’
Reblogging this again to suggest a different view of humanity, one where it’s not that we find injuring ourselves to be hilarious is the “defining quirk”. No, this one’s got to do with why you always want a human engineer or programmer (or both) if your ship’s going to be within two parsecs of a human.
Humans break things. They don’t mean to, and it can’t just be their curiosity – other species are curious, but they don’t break things like humans do. Humans make things stop working by trying to do things that they were never meant to do in the first place. I should know, I’ve seen it firsthand – one of the stubborn little bastards decided he was going to get the holodeck to show him an outdated media format called a “Vee-Ay-Chess”, and he spent twenty chrons trying to fix it after it started belching black smoke – and then he was at it AGAIN! And don’t even get me started on how he almost wiped our nav computer to try and play something called “Wolfenstein”.
But the scary part is, for every time it fails, there’s three times it works. There was a time when our warp drive broke down. You know, it was a Caledon Industries model, they’re cheap but they like to break. The problem was that it was a Tritium Reactron Fitting, and it got wedged in the back. Like, “take the ship apart and put it back together to get the fitting out” wedged. We were convinced we were going to be stuck for a few days before our signal got noticed.
And then the human – same one who broke the holodeck twice with his Vee-Ay-Chess crap and almost wiped all our nav data with his Wolfenstein game – he goes into the engine room and begins calling over the intercom for random tools, trash, parts of other things that were working just fine. He spends maybe twelve chrons in there, and when he comes out, he tells us to fire up warp. It sails us right to the nearest star system, no problems. And then the chief engineer takes a look at what he’s done. It looks like – I kid you not – it looks like the entrails of a Galthan Wingbeast. One that got splattered by a bomb.
Says he “jury rigged” it, whatever the hell that means, and we should get it replaced before it breaks again. And that’s why I never go anywhere without a human anymore.
one time alexander the great rode dick for 8 hours and then spent 8 hours the next day riding a horse, and that’s why i believe bottoms deserve more credit
Except no, he didn’t. There is no evidence anywhere that says Alexander the Great was gay. What historical reference says that? His multiple wives maybe? His many children born to them? Or whatever delusion you’ve cooked up to pass your own opinion?
honey , i’m not spending an extra year in uni to get a classics degree not to respond to this directly
i) alexander had one (1) unborn child at the time of his death, because he only, miserably, managed to knock up one of his three (3) wives after his boyfriend died
–> had alexander produced more than ONE (1) child, the hellenistic age would not have been defined by the fallout caused by his generals warring to decide a successor, ultimately destroying his empire and arguably sending everyone from macedon to modern-day palestine into a cultural dark age
ii) macedonian kings took multiple wives to secure succession, a political move that alexander resisted despite the urging of both antipater and olympias (i’ll let you google them on your own time) for almost an literal
decade
– > there’s an anecdote found in the curtius , your “historical reference” – you can google his dates – about alexander’s parents sending him a hooker because they were afraid he didn’t … how do i say it nicely? wanna fuck women
it’s absolutely true that you can’t say alexander was gay; that’s grossly reductive, because sexuality didn’t exist by modern definition in ancient times. more, alexander DID bone a woman, willingly, at one point – a satrap’s (google that) wife, named barsine, with whom he may or may not have produced a bastard child called heracles. getting dicked down doesn’t negate wanting to dick another down, an interesting concept that you would be familiar with if you took a quick jaunt out of that homophobic bubble wrap you’ve duct-taped yourself into. we also can’t FOR SURE 100% conclusively say that alexander and hephaestion boned; but plutarch, curtius, and diodorus are some notable biographers who delve into detail about alexander’s life-long, likely romantic connection to his right hand man, who he mourned so excessively at the time of his death that there was hardly a dime left for alexander’s own funeral. they didn’t make that shit up – you can google what source criticism is, but some of THEIR sources included ptolemy i soter and callisthenes – oof, more people for you to google! modern scholars from reames to borza to müller to green assume that he was getting dicked down for the above reasons, too!
at last, i shall acknowledge that my Humour Post refers to lucian (pro lapsu inter salutandum 8), who has some wink-wink-nudge-nudge content concerning who slept in whose tent when, but who wants to retread old ground? here’s another one of my favorites instead:
323 was the year of alexander’s death (historical!), but even if lucian made all of this up, as this scholar seems to nudge at, it’s still quite telling that a cultural memory and historical tradition that the romans associated with alexander included his love of massive, throbbing cocks, non?
people who share your dreadfully uninformed and outdated opinion include, if i’m not mistaken, a handful of stodgy greek lawyers, a man named william woodthorpe tarn, and helmut berve. tarn was an imperialist, and berve? a literal nazi.
I’m sorry but I just had to reblog this. This is a fucking epic beatdown.
Considering the staggering amount of votes this one got, here you go!
ok so it’s my sweet sixteen and i took two of my closest friends paintballing. We started off alone with just the three of us. Me and this girl formed a truce so we could take out her brother. He found a building with a roof to shoot from so i was criss crossing and sliding behind shelters.
Long story short with this guy i snuck up behind his building and shot him point blank in the ass while he was climbing a ladder.
Except now his sister is my enemy and a much larger threat.
I criss cross my way back narrowly avoiding being shot. I skid to a stop behind this bush with a really gappy fence and go GOOD ENOUGH BRING IT ON and poke my muzzle through. I cant particularly see but I remembered seeing her in a little chapel window. I aim that general direction and open fire. I immediately hear HIT. When she comes out i see where i hit her. Right between the eyes like I couldnt do that again if I tried. Ill take it.
We’re back at the base ops and these massive dudes come over like “yo wanna join us we need more players” and we’re like “oh ya bud the more the merrier” so we go over and everyone is freaking massive and there’s us three tiny lil teenagers. I over hear they’re a military team and just sigh because i know im dead this is just my luck
Apparently they wanted us so that they could simulate having civilian to protect, who were also armed. (They did a piss poor job of this seriously wtf)
So the game starts and im seperated from my friends. They’re on the opposite team.
Im sticking near the leader and just generally trying not to die. He’s giving me orders as softly and nicely as he can, thinking Im scared. I mean really who wouldnt be?
I wasnt. I was ready to kick butt. When I am silent, be afraid, im planning something.
Next thing i know he’s gone. Shot, running, hiding i dont know and i dont care i gotta move there are way too many heavily armed men in these woods for me to be comfortable
Im trekking through this woodsy area keeping as low as possible because the other team has a freaking sniper and im not dealing with that no thanks im just a tiny teenager leave me alone ok
Im doing my thing and trying to find people to shoot because everyone is mia when i see people ahead.
Not my people.
And they havent seen me yet. Im looking around looking for some decent cover or somewhere to take them by surprise and there is nothing. The entire area is just thistle bushes with massive thorns. And then my idea hits. A wicked, mischievous idea. I grin behind my mask and get ready to lay my trap.
I plop myself down right in the middle of these thistles and army crawl to the path their taking and just lay still.
These guys dont see me.
They’re not expecting someone to be in these bushes cause who is that dumb.
The one dudes boot is an inch from my hand and i spring up and yell SURPRISE before shooting him right in the chest and then the two behind him. Three down, way too many to go. I ran away cackling like a witch
Dont die dont die dont die
I head out again and meet up with some more of my group. They stick me at the back to keep me out of harms way. A valiant, if ineffective effort
Enter enemy attack.
We get split up into two groups to flank them and i end up alone again. I moving slowly, spinning in a slow circled because I am EFFED
I’m a tiny lil sixteen year old girl, all alone, with about 15 guns pointed at me. I was completely surrounded. My comrades who had fled to live and fight another day are now making haste towards me like WHO LEFT THE KID BEHIND HELP HER and im like
hell no i got this
I went absolutely ape shit on their asses.
Shots are flying around me like crazy and everyone is screaming. One of the enemies shouts FALL BACK WHAT THE FU–
I hear one if my partners like HOLY SHIT SHE’S ALIVE
I barrel over one of the attackers and side arm his gun away. I break out from the Circle of Doom and make a mad dash for cover.
I leap into the air and spin to fave them. Im not getting shot in the back I an a WARRIOR
I just start spraying with a battle cry to rattle the heavens
I smack back down to earth and land in a crouch
Every single one of the attackers were shot, usually multiple times, and i didnt get shot once. Frankly no clue how i managed but I am NOT questioning it. Luck or skill I dont care
Eventually it was down to two people. Me and the other teams captain.
He’s a big, scary dude. He had a custom gun that could pop off a frankly alarming amount of shots per second.
The odds arent exactly in my favour.
We find each other right in the middle with trenches and tiny little metal fences for cover. Im walking through like plz dont shoot me i am small be nice
The dude pops up from a trench and starts firing. No mercy here.
Fine then.
I duck behind a fence and it is the most pathetic thing i have ever seen.
I have barely enough room to crouch behind it because it’s so small. The other dude finds a nice big trench and big fence the lucky lil jerk.
So we’re poppin up like weasels trying to get a shot in. I cant hit him, he cant hit me. Up and down and up and down. My fence angles down ever so slightly so im tucked in as tightly as I could. My fence is rattling as shot after shot after shot hits. The shots stop, i poke my muzzle over the edge amd lay down some fire.
And the cycle repeats
I get tired of this little exchange so the next time he goes down i lay on some cover fire and sprint like hell for a near by trench like i am just bookin it thinking dont shoot me dont shoot me imma kill you
i slide in and pop up just as he rises to take a shot. Except im not where he thought id be.
I shot him right in the side of his bald lil head.
So i won. My team legit carried me on their shoulders back to base ops
And that’s the time I, a sixteen year old girl, beat a team of militarily trained behemoths
Imagine the Aliens’ reactions if this happened to them
Can you even imagine?? Just this litrlw teenager screaming BRING IT ON YA JERKS
@humans-are-seriously-weird is this an accurate representation (I would have added a gif of one of those action heroes beating up everybody around them but I couldn’t find one)
i realize i’m maybe like, the Nichest of markets here, but i really really really desperately want to watch further adventures of Diana Prince, Curator of Antiquities™
…like, imagine the interdepartmental meetings
Diana: we have recently acquired several exquisite pieces of very early minoan kamares ware. i feel a refresh of the gallery might encourage our visitors to–
some marketing dipshit: look, we can’t get people in the door for pottery. we need another big show, like can you get a vermeer or–
Diana of Themiscrya, Amazon, God-Killer, Daughter of Hippolyta: pottery is important
some marketing dipshit, lightly pissing himself: i agree
Not only will I join you in the Nichest of Markets, but I am suddenly stricken by the dismay that can only come from a depressing awareness of how niche this market is. Does anyone…like…have fic?
“Here you are, Ms. Prince,” says the mail currier. He grabs the tablet from his back pocket, presenting it to her. “If you’ll just sign right there…”
“Of course,” says Diana. She scrawls her name, and the currier dutifully passes over the package. It is reasonably sized, stocky, with the words FRAGILE, HANDLE WITH CARE written along the edges of the Wayne Enterprises logo. “Same time next week?”
The currier laughs. “More than likely, I’d wager. Weird that Mr. Wayne has taken a sudden interest in supplementing the Louvre with his own private collection, but hey. Billionaires, right? Who knows what they’re thinking.”
Diana thinks of the museums in Gotham, filled to the brim with some of the world’s most beautiful antiquities and artifacts, and about Bruce Wayne who cares not a lick about any one them but takes ownership of them anyway for the sole purpose of having free exhibitions open to the general public five days a week. She smiles, agrees, and waves the currier off, until the next time.
She is examining the dish (Uruk period, likely kiln production, as it is a strange almost-blue tint that suggests a high-temperature controlled oven), when Isabell in charge of Eastern Eurasian arts knocks lightly on her half-open door and lets herself in.
“New delivery?” she asks, nodding to the dish.
“Yes.” Carefully, Diana puts the dish back in its box. She makes a note to have one of her assistants come by later to pick it up and send it down to the lab for testing. “The meeting?”
“Oh, uh.” Isabell in charge of Eastern Eurasian arts clears her throat and looks briefly at the floor, embarrassed. Diana lets her have a moment, used to the reaction. “Yeah. Want to walk together?”
Diana is already walking around her, throwing her disposable gloves in the garbage as she passes. “Sure,” she says anyway and waits for Isabell by the door. Isabell jolts when she realizes Diana is already ahead of her. Diana politely chooses to ignore that.
It’s only when she is seated besides Isabell in charge of Eastern Eurasian arts and Haruki in charge of philanthropic outreach that she remembers: Timothy in charge of corporate marketing is going to be at this meeting as well.
She nearly groans aloud, already anticipating his tirade on diminishing returns this financial quarter and his chart predicting a downward trend of attendance among younger visitors.
Timothy in charge of corporate marketing does not disappoint. After the heads of every department say their piece and give the customary updates, Timothy in charge of corporate marketing has an assistant hold out a poster board detailing their declining revenue and inability to attract attention. For nearly half the appointed time for the meeting, he speaks, pointing back to his poster board at regular intervals with frothing enthusiasm.
“Well,” says Diana, when Timothy in charge of corporate marketing finally allows the department heads to speak. “We have recently acquired several exquisite pieces of Early Minoan Kamares ware. I feel a refresh of the gallery might encourage our visitors to—”
“Ms. Prince,” Timothy in charge of corporate marketing interrupts. He is smiling, not unkindly, in the way a headmaster might at a particularly rambunctious child. Diana feels her fist curl, despite herself. “We can’t get people in the door for pottery.” He laughs. “No, no, we’d need something bigger. Grander, you understand. Something that will hold our visitors’ attention. Perhaps if you could get a Vermeer, yes? I hear you’ve been receiving packages from Bruce Wayne himself, and he has a lovely piece, if I do remember correctly. Maybe try asking—”
The way Timothy in charge of corporate marketing says asking, Diana knows that is far from what he actually means. She is about as likely to follow through with that as she is to ask Timothy for anything.
As calmly as she can, she places both hands atop the table and uncurls her fists. Below her fingers, a minuscule part of the grained wood chips. She extends her spine, sitting straight, and beside her, Isabell in charge of Eastern Eurasian arts swallows.
“Tim,” she cuts in. “For how many quarters have our returns, as you keep reminding us, diminished?”
Timothy in charge of corporate marketing blinks. He squints. “Well, I would say for nearly six quarters now.”
“Hm. And remind me, how long have you been with us here?”
The room has the same quality of quiet that Diana is intimately familiar with, bordering on dangerous.
“Nearly six quarters, if memory serves,” says Diana.
“Now, Ms. Prince,” Timothy in charge of corporate marketing blusters, “if you are implying that somehow I am responsible for the state of our returns—”
“I am not implying anything. Just perhaps that big shows and singular centerpieces are not the way for us to go. Isabell?”
Isabell in charge of Eastern Eurasian arts jolts and looks up at her, wide-eyed. “Yes?”
“Didn’t you recently acquire some newly discovered Jomon pieces?”
“Yes.”
“Of course, it’s a matter of opinion, but if we were to redesign the gallery to incorporate the different wares from different eras and locales, it might encourage our visitors to learn more about them and could even encourage repeat visits.”
“I suppose…” allows Timothy in charge of corporate marketing.
Diana stares at him, the same way she might have once stared down her own mother to let her leave Themyscira or even looked down on Ares as he tried to tempt her to his side. She stares at him, and remembers with a certainty that has been granted to her after years in man’s world that he is but a man and like any man, he is fragile and breakable, when she is not.
“Pottery is important, Tim,” she says.
Trembling, unable to meet her eye, Timothy in charge of corporate marketing agrees.
YOU DID THE THING YOU WENT FORTH AND DID IT I SALUTE YOU !!!!!!!!!!!!!
the fact that divine leliana absolutely refuses to hire anyone that doesn’t get along with her nug babies is the most charming and delightful thing in the world and if i didn’t already want to marry her i’d want to marry her even more
ALSO the fact that in the face of rumors about her inappropriate relationship with the warden she just straight up erased the laws against it like
“most holy you’re not really supposed to be making out with your girlfriend in the grand cathedral all the time”
“who’s going to stop me?? the divine?? well i asked me and i now declare us divine and wife, au revoir”
For those of you Not Up To Date, Shiko is my poor necromancer who starts out as the villain of my Alleirat story.
36: Are they in control of their emotions, or are their emotions in control of them?
Ha ha, um? Depends on the emotion. Now, Shiko grew up as a trans girl in a Japanese family. I have More Research lined up and if anyone was comfortable talking to me about life as a trans person in Japan, I’d be thrilled, but I’m making the radical leap that life as a trans person anywhere comes with a certain degree of learning emotional control to not shiv ignorant morons every other day (extrapolated from being a butch queer in a small town as well as various conversations with my trans friends). More to the point, Shiko’s life on Earth often left her feeling very isolated for a number of reasons, which has led her to a good degree of control over her emotions as she doesn’t like to be seen to be upset or distressed. So anger, sadness, etc, not so much–she’s very good at tactical thinking and resisting the immediate impulse to do something to ‘resolve’ the emotion unless she decides it’s a good idea objectively.
That being said, Shiko doesn’t respond well to fear, specifically fear of the unknown, and will immediately grasp at any option that she feels will give her some control over an unknown situation–like for example winding up in a strange world where no one speaks English or Japanese and she can see ghosts. Pretty much Shiko’s response to that sort of event is whatever she feels will give her some understanding and control…with absolutely no thought for what it might result in.
This is the source of like 95% of her problems. The other 5% is caused by buff tree women.
Moran, have you seen John Wick 1 or 2? And if you have, what are your thoughts/feelings on the ball of angry Keanu Reeves plays?
I have seen John Wick and very much want to see John Wick 2 because I will tell you a few things that are very important to me:
Angry Keanu Reeves
Beautifully choreographed fight scenes
Dogs! (Yes a dog dies and it’s very sad but he gETS ANOTHER DOG, headcanon that John Wick is the only assassin in the world who has 15 dogs at home, they’re all beautiful and incredibly well cared for and he loved them all very much.)
Beautifully choreographed fight scenes iN SUITS
Honestly Keanu Reeves in general? I like him a lot. I was introduced to Bill & Ted very young and have not been able to figure out what the fuck people’s issue with him is since then. I recommend Constantine for more gratuitous Keanu Reeves violence with intricate underworlds and good one-liners. Constantine is one of my top five favorite movies and I’m actually weirdly into the theology in it.
Complex networks of underground criminal enterprises with Rules (and God save you if you break The Rules)
Literally any form of media in which the main character is the best and most competent person in any given room, and which isn’t afraid to embrace that wholeheartedly (I really dislike the concept of a character being ‘too competent’ but that’s a separate rant)
Neutral ground hotels/bars/whatever
The moment on the phone with the Russian mob boss where he’s very angry that someone dared to hit his (useless) son, and he’s told that the guy killed John Wick’s dog and took his car, and the mob boss just goes very silent for a moment before he says “Oh”
So anyway I love that movie it’s very fun and I like movies with a lot of gratuitous detail in their criminal empires. Also apparently Keanu Reeves trained for John Wick at the same time that Charlize Theron was training for Atomic Blonde (I haven’t even seen that movie yet but I can already tell you: we could make a religion out of that) and they sparred a lot during that time period.
“It started because I was doing a press conference, and someone was like, “Oh, we loved The Man From U.N.C.L.E.” And I was like, “Well you know we’re doing another one!” And everyone was like “WOAH!” So then I left the press conference and I e-mailed Guy, the director, and Lionel, the producer, and I was like, “Uuuhhh, just a heads up guys, I just told a room full of international reporters that you’re working on another Man From U.N.C.L.E. Soooo when are you getting the script ready?“ And the response was “… are you serious?” I was like, “Yeah, pretty serious.” And then the news started to come out and Lionel wrote back, and he was like “Well, I’ll have a script by the end of the year.””—
Armie Hammer talking about how he really came thru for us to bring us the Man From U.N.C.L.E. sequel we deserve, The Today Show, June 5
There’s a nice explanation of this in the fic, but here is the new system for posting: Dragon Age on Wednesdays (this fic), Animorphs on Saturdays or Sundays (this series), and variousongoinglongerfics replacing one of those two whenever a chapter is finished. Tumblr fic is just going up when it’s done.
Please. Please. Please. Stay away from heroin and meth. Please.
Don’t say “I just wanna try it once, I can control myself.” Don’t say it.
Just please don’t ever do those two drugs. Please.
Please
THISSSSSS
also stay way from Molly and ecstasy. they are drugs found usually at raves and clubs and when taken cause the “happiness receptors” in your brain to be destroyed and can never be fixed meaning you will never feel happy again unless you take the drug again, which leads to dependence and overdose. these drugs also cause hyperthermia which causes your body to heat up at an alarming rate. seriously stay away from these.
We need more of these posts, educating us that not all drugs are harmful. We need more posts that give us information on safe environments for drug users, and what to do if something does go wrong. We need to be told how to safely do these drugs. Telling someone not to do drugs will just harm them more. I’d rather know how to do a certain drug safely than be oblivious and be severely harmed.
I can agree with the first part, H and Meth are a road better left untraveled. I have a couple of friends who have kicked heroin addiction and say it was the worst idea they ever had, the ones who couldn’t kick it are dead.
The post about Molly and Ecstasy is ridiculous and sounds like it was written by a 13 year old with X’s on the back of their hands. Your serotonin production get diminished for about a day, which does generally lead to a gloomy feeling, but it’s not a permanent condition. Hyperthermia is real, but not a guaranteed effect as it affects everyone differently. I overheat every time I do Ecstasy, which is why I wont take it, but I’m also 130lbs with a very high metabolism, not a prime candidate for taking speed.
For those who are curious, here’s some real advice on social drug use….
Know Your Dealer - Buying drugs you’ve never taken off of someone you’ve never met is just stupid. Buying drugs you have taken off of someone you don’t know is also risky, but if you’re careful it generally works out. A lot of times people will try to sell you one thing by saying it’s something else. It’s usually bad product that they can’t get rid of. Other people will straight rip you off. You know how easy it is to fake a hit of blotter? It’s literally a piece paper.
Know Your Limits - I had a friend who used to go crazy with Acid, taking waaay more than was necessary. One day he took an insane dose and got arrested because he was found groping women in the park. There’s a point with all drugs at which you lose control of yourself, your limit is well before that point. And with certain drugs, there is no chance to learn from your mistakes.
Don’t Do It Alone - Particularly with psychedlics, it’s good to have a trip-sitter, someone who is sober and can drive you around and make sure you don’t do anything too stupid. With rave drugs it’s also good to have someone in case you overheat, and again, to make sure you don’t do anything stupid.
Don’t Show Off - Nobody worth a shit cares how much booze you can drink, how many hits of acid you can eat, or how much weed you can smoke. If anything, they’ll shake their head at the total waste. And believe me, there is such a thing as too high
and most importantly DON’T TRY A DRUG UNLESS YOU FEEL READY TO TRY THE DRUG. Don’t ever let someone pressure you into taking something. Nobody else knows when it’s the right time for you, and being scared or filled with doubt will generally end up bad. A lot of people will try new things at concerts or festivals, which is very risky. I recommend testing yourself under a controlled situation before throwing yourself into a crowd of 30,000 people with a head full of chemicals you’re not familiar with.
BOOST THIS
Good post except for the first bit about molly. That’s……… that’s not how it works…
Don’t do drugs errybody. I’ve lost years of my life and multiple loved ones to them. There are way better ways to spend your time and money, I PROMISE. And if you are gonna do drugs, do your damn research and use as many harm reduction methods as possible! Just because they are overly stigmatized in our society does not mean they can’t genuinely fuck your entire shit up.
Also, in the event of a serious disaster–a really bad reaction, an overdose, etc–DO call the paramedics and DO tell them whatever you can about what drugs were involved. The EMTs are not going to hand you over to the cops, but some drugs interact very badly with other necessary medical drugs, and some overdoses are treatable while others are limited supportive care (oxygen, etc). They are legally not permitted to call the cops on you. Please tell them what you know so that they know what they’re dealing with.
