area blogger arrives in local fandom ten years late, with shitposts
Steve Rogers: So I fell to what I thought was my death, only to get frozen in an iceberg for the better part of a century–and when I thawed back out, just about everyone I’d ever known was dead, I’d managed to sleep through a bunch of wars, and the jerks I’d been up against in the first place were about six inches away from world domination.
john gets home from school and jade and rose and dave are all IMMEDIATELY messaging him and hes like “what do you guys normally do when im gone??” and theyre all like “wait for you to get back”
tier 5 (ridiculous, unacceptable, pls don’t): anything to do with beer cans, baby-maker, bishop, choad, donger, dragon, fuck wand, fun stick, hog, johnson, jimmy, lap rocket, little [insert name], love muscle/rod/stick, meat stick, one-eyed [anything], piston, private eye, schlong, trouser snake, wiener, winkie
tier 6 (you’re literally a fourth grader): baby arm, baloney pony, beaver basher, beef whistle, custard launcher, dude piston, flesh flute, heat-seeking moisture missile, krull the warrior king, luigi, mayo shooting hotdog gun, meter long king kong dong, pig skin bus, piss weasle, purple-headed yogurt flinger, purple-helmeted warrior of love, schlong dongadoodle, single barreled pump action bollock, spawn hammer, steamin’ semen truck, tan banana, thundersword, wang doodle, whoopie stick, wing wang doodle, yogurt shotgun
tier 7 (you are like a little baby. watch this): the symbolic collage, the multiplier of motions known, a pillar of fighting styles terrible to behold, the ability to infer significance in something devoid of detail, cornered sphere, a letter written in uncertainty, flesh-metal, a bubble of foul water and fire, invisible scripture, the sex-death of language, power throat, the heart bone, the mercy seat, the irrefutable-for-a-span, the enigma that must be removed, the new phlogiston, a throne of wonder why, the idiom stroke, non-spatial space filling to capacity with mortal interaction and information, a bit of string shaped like your favorite color, the sword not held, estrangement from statesmanship, the reptile wheel, the treasure wood sword, a million-eyed insect dreaming, the dome-head demon, a dead carapace of memory, the mythic epidermal, the ethos knife, flute-and-pipe ogre, the red jewel of conquest, a walking star
The pretty boy is being so mean to him for NO REASON. Like what the hell, Bryce is being helpful. He’ll show how fucking helpful he can be. He’ll help him fix his backhand, and his ATTITUDE, and by the end he’ll think Bryce is the best coach ever and tell Evanson. Because obviously this is about Evanson yelling at Bryce for not getting involved, even though he doesn’t even WANT to be here, not that stupid…pretty….mean kid. Except that maybe Evanson will be extra impressed by a recommendation from him. And then he’ll tell Summers. And Summers will stop calling Bryce a fucking moron.
It has nothing to do with Jared particularly at all. Bryce doesn’t like him. And he ESPECIALLY doesn’t like that guy who keeps hanging around him. Who does he think he is, being all…around? Bryce didn’t volunteer to coach HIM. Well. Kind of. But. He didn’t really VOLUNTEER to coach anyone. That was Summers. SUMMERS IS THE FUCKING MORON, NOT BRYCE.
…Bryce Marcus’ POV brings me both joy and despair.
julius caesar’s assassination was the last time everyone in a group project did their part
According to Eutropius, there were sixty senators present. According to Suetonius, Julius Caesar was stabbed twenty-three times, with only one of them being fatal.
TL;DR: At least thirty-seven senators slacked the fuck off and only one out of sixty put in any real effort. #groupwork
Astonishing things that are happening so far in Master and Commander:
I don’t know what I was expecting, given that the entire world plus the back of my copy sincerely calls this the “Aubrey-Maturin novels,” which we all know is just because they hadn’t thought to use a /, but still I was not prepared for this book to literally open with a meet cute. Specifically, a meet cute wherein our solid sea-honed ~presence~ of a British Royal Navy Officer is so overcome by the beauty of the music recital he’s attending that he cannot help banging his fist upon his knee to the melody, and is promptly and devastatingly shushed by this intense little slip of an Irish physician, upon which Jack Aubrey’s response to being sassed by Stephen Maturin is to have even more feelings than he was already having about the music, and then less than 24 hours later run up to him in the street, effuse how very sorry he is, and invite him to become his best friend. And THEN it comes out that this delicate doctor is actually wasting awayon account of the patient he’d come to Menorca to treat having died without paying him, and is now sleeping in the fucking abandoned ruins of a chapel up on a hill and calling all his animal roommates by their Latinate names and hasn’t really eaten in god knows when, and Jack is like OMG NO, OMG NO COME LIVE ON MY NEW SLOOP WITH ME AND I’LL FEED YOU ALL THE TIME, and Stephen’s like Could I Possibly? and Jack’s like YES!!, and then rushes around getting his snug little boat ready while daydreaming about when he can get Stephen aboard and at last have someone with whom he can share his thoughts and joys and feelings about beautiful music. And then in Classic™ Plot™ Jack sends a messenger to tell Stephen that he’s going to miss their next meal because he’s taking his ship out for a test sail before they embark, but Stephen DOESN’T GET THE MESSAGE and comes down to the docks with his wee bag to see Jack’s ship sailing away and thinks, I paraphrase but only barely: “this is what I get for thinking I might at last have something nice, I cannot believe I allowed myself to lower my defenses so completely because now I am Heartbroken,” and palely glares the fuck out of the poor kid who finally rushes up to give him the message that Jack’ll be back to fetch him in a couple hours.
Other things that have happened include three four separate mentions of, to use the parlance, sodomy, including the Confirmed Gay aboard having already developed a crush on golden-haired Commander Aubrey. Meanwhile our absolutely hapless Dr. Maturin is belowdecks cracking his head into a low beam so hard he sees stars and then valiantly pretending he’s not dazed when Jack bounds down to happily offer him eggs and bacon and coffee.
And then the other 30% of this is long streams of sailing words that I do not know yet. I AM HAVING THE BEST TIME.
What if, and hear me out, in stead of constantly telling Star Trek stories about science vessels that are “reconfigured to be vessels of war”, we tried telling a Star Trek story about a science vessel that is a vessel of science?
What about a war vessel that was reconfigured to be a vessel of science? Those are wayyyyyyyy more common in real life.
“What the hell is this place?” “Map says this used to be the ship’s armory. This is where they kept their warheads.” “This is where we’re keeping the busted LCMS stuff.” “We…we really can just get new ones.” “But what we NEEEEEED them for parts?” “Uh.” “Start putting the LC pumps here. Don’t tell the captain.”
Or a ship that they use to explore particularly dense plasma nebulae because it has a thick hull and reinforced shielding to withstand Jem’Hadar attacks or the like.
“Are those quantum torpedoes!?”
“Negative. Well, affirmative. Well, they were quantum and they are torpedoes, but they have been retrofitted for probe deployment.”
“What happened to the payloads?”
“They have been repurposed for experimental generation of SUSY particles from vacuum.”
THIS SOUNDS LIKE IT WOULD BE SO NEAT 😀
The thing that gets me about this proposal is that it’s basically canon that Federation vessels are absurdly overpowered compared to just about anything else in space, to the point that a Federation science vessel can tangle with multiple dedicated warships from just about any other faction and reasonably expect to come out on top. Like, they’re packing “sampling lasers” that can drill holes through planets.
If that’s what you get when a science vessel guns up, what on Earth does it look like when you go the other way? We’re talking about a continuum of force where “enough directed energy to crack a planet in half” is your baseline.
(Of course, the reasonable answer is “they take out all the big guns when they convert it to a science vessel, because trying to repurpose planet-cracking firepower for research purposes is deranged”, but where’s the fun in that?)
just moving along like everyone else 