Going on Tumblr is like entering the seminar room… I’m talking, some mutuals are taking notes, some are debating with me, some are sleeping, Neil Gaiman is adding something witty, some strangers are rebl… wait go back a step
twitter is like. DNI with me unless you are a perfect clone of me. and tumblr is like. hi. you share exactly one interest with me. would you like to subliminally influence each other’s thought patterns through funny text posts until we develop a hive mind? yeah? cool.
Imagine if people only worked six months out of the year. Half the people would be winter workers who choose to grind through the dark months and then chill and play during the summer, and half of the people would be ones who would rather work through the warm season and then rest and hibernate in peace over the winter, more or less free to choose whichever you like.
There would be families with a strong identity about which season they work in, and people who say that someone “has only ever worked one season” as a way to imply that someone isn’t adventurous by nature. There would be parents who agree to take turns working opposite seasons, so one of them can always be at home with the kids, and old folks who lament that their adult children and niblings were Forced By Circumstance to work opposite seasons from them, while the youths in question welcome the work as an excuse to avoid these inconvenient relatives.
You never know if the construction worker up at 6 am in the summer spends their winters writing murder mysteries, or if the winter shift librarian spends their summer cultivating a rare breed of heirloom apples. Or simply meditating, observing nature, living quietly and baking bread. Asking someone “what do you do in your free season?” tells as much, if not more, about the person than “what do you do for a living?” And nobody answers “nothing”. Everyone can think of something that they want to do, perhaps not productive, but still enlightening, constructive and cultivating.
Nobody who is in full health and well rested can stand spending half of the year simply doing absolutely nothing.
FOOD HUBRIS BY COUNTRY america: believes their shitty local burger chain is a once-in-a-lifetime culinary experience because their mayo includes onion paste canada: if your poutine tastes better than the styrofoam plate it comes on you will discover the cold rage that lies under the canadian’s polite exterior united kingdom: despite thriving and unique fusion cuisines spreading from the UK to the rest of the world in recent decades, when asked to think of ‘british food’ the average UK citizen will start a fight over whether cold beans with a modest side of white bread is haute cuisine france: McDo Ortolan Bunting italy: extremely mad about american versions of italian food. blissfully ignorant of what happens in brazil brazil: if the scientific genius applied to making cronenbergian pizzas were applied to anything else, brazilians would all be commuting to jobs on the moon. They have pizza that can feel pain russia: obviously mayonnaise is the perfect topping for all foodstuffs, this is solved. The question is what to put on top of mayonnaise, and it might never be answered germany: less a joke than a fact: the single most produced numbered Volkswagen part is a standardized currywurst
You, a supervillain, are very confused as to why your superhero-nemesis is rampaging through your lair screaming something about you kidnapping their girlfriend. Meanwhile your daughter, who has come to visit you, seems very nervous and is anxious to leave your lair.
You stare at the security footage showing the hero’s rampage through one of your bases a little longer. Your daughter is shifting nervously behind you, clearly wanting to leave despite only just arriving for her monthly visit a few hours ago. These visits are usually for the whole weekend, not a single day.
“Honey,” you draw the word out slowly, she’s had that pet name since she was a little girl obsessed with Winnie the pooh and insisted on having honey with every meal, “I believe you were about to tell me about your new girlfriend?”
She was not, until the alarms started going off you were actually about to play a new game she wanted you to play with her, something about zombies in Spain. She insisted you’d love tearing the science apart and you were looking forward to it.
But this is more important.
“I don’t know how she found out I’d be here, I swear! I just told her I was visiting my parent for the weekend,” she flinches as she watches Hero tear another door off its hinges in her search for her.
“Honey,” your voice is soft and hand gentle as you touch your daughter’s arm, “do you feel safe with Hero?” You’ve enjoyed messing with the Hero over the years, you’d even jokingly called her your nemesis a couple of times, but if Hero is hurting your daughter no amount of fondness will stop you from tearing her apart.
“Yes!” Your daughter answers quickly, “she’s never even tried to hurt me, if not for her fights against you I wouldn’t think her capable of hurting anyone.”
You nod as Hero rips apart another lab, thankfully one without test subjects. You don’t need those running loose right now. “Well,” you draw the word out again, thinking as you watch the Hero, “shall we invite your girlfriend to dinner?”
“What?” Your daughter sounds confused, “but you’re… you’re not upset I’m dating your enemy?”
“Of course not,” you hum and press a button, revealing a secret hallway connected to the room the Hero is in to the Hero. She barely pauses before going through it. “She’s been too useful a coworker to consider an enemy.”
“She wouldn’t be pleased to hear that,” your daughter mumbles.
“Of course not, she’s a hero. Heros never like being useful to villains.” Once the Hero reaches the room at the end of the secret hall you press another button sealing her inside and activate the intercom, “I do believe there’s been a misunderstanding, Hero.”
She spins around, looking for cameras and exits alike. “And what would that be?” She practically growls.
“She mentioned she was visiting family, yes?” There’s no need to specify who, you both know who you’re talking about.
The Hero nods slowly, “you kidnapped her on her way there.”
“No,” you draw out the word again, you might have a problem, you like to do that even when you’re out of costume, but it does buy time to formulate your next move while being a touch dramatic, “there’s no need to kidnap her when she was coming to me of her own accord.”
You pause for effect and to let the Hero take in your implication before you drop the bomb, “You’re dating my daughter.”
Before the Hero can say anything more your daughter takes control of the intercom, “We’re going to have pizza if you want to join us. We should all talk, anyways.”
It takes the Hero a minute to recover enough to give a shaky nod. You double check the intercom is off before you activate the button that will open a hallway leading your personal quarters and turn to your daughter, “you sure about this? Once she sees my face she’ll be obligated to tell the Heroes Guild who I am.”
You’ve never seen such confidence in your daughters eyes as you do when she nods and says, “Hero won’t tell, she knows what the guild does to the children of villains and won’t risk me like that.”
You frown at that. You yourself don’t know what happens. Not beyond rumors. But the way your daughter says that, really makes you wonder if the rumors aren’t true, and if the Heroes Guild is really as holy as they claim.
Medicine in Star Wars is getting goofier and goofier I love it
Fic writers take note. No need for research. In a medical emergency your clone trooper medic of choice would canonically simply grab a MedPatch™️ out of their MedPac™️ while their patient takes a deep swig of MedNog™️ and then aggressively stab a fuckin MedSpike™️ directly into their aorta.
had a fucking hilarious dream that tumblr replaced the “block” function with the far funnier “glock” function, which did the exact same thing except whenever anyone blocked you a random bullet hole, like a png of a bullet hole, would appear on your blog. discourse blogs were unreadable bc you’d go to the page and the sheer amount of bullet hole pngs stacked over the blogs obscured everything. I woke myself up laughing
