but only theoretically


  • ’ Why are you all wet? ‘ 
  • ’ Aloha! ’
  • ’ You’re vile. You’re foul. You’re flawed. ' 
  • ’ Ohana means family. Family means no one gets left behind or forgotten. ’
  • ’ If you want to leave, you can. I’ll remember you, though. ’
  • ’ I remember everyone that leaves. ’
  • ’ You! You’re the cause of all this. ’
  • ’ This is my family. I found it all on my own. Is little, and broken, but still good. Ya. Still good. ’
  • ’ Oh, good! My dog found the chainsaw. ’
  • ’ No more caffeine for you. ’
  • ’ Did you lose your job because of me? ' 
  • ’ The managers a vampire. He wanted me to join his legion of the undead. ’
  • ’ Trust me, this isn’t gonna end well. ’
  • ’ I’m sorry I bit you. And pulled your hair. And punched you in the face. ’
  • ’ GIve us a sign you understand any of this. ’
  • ’ Show us that there is something inside you that is good. ’
  • ’ I didn’t teach him that. ’
  • ’ Come on, what’s the big deal? ’
  • ’ Leave my mother out of this. ’
  • ’ You are such a pain. ’
  • ’ Then why don’t you sell me and buy me a rabbit instead? ’
  • ’ I hate it when you use Ohana against me. ’
  • ’ I’m lost. ’
  • ’ Don’t interact with her. ’
  • ’ Oh, we can’t do that. Uh-uh. That would be a misuse of resources. ’
  • ’ Why do you act so weird? ’
  • ’ You look familiar. ’
  • ’ We’re a broken family, aren’t we? ’
  • ’ I shouldn’t have yelled at you. ’
  • ’ You are built to destroy. You can never belong. ’
  • ’ We need something that can defend itself. Something that won’t die. ’
  • ’ I hear you cry at night. ’
  • ’ Do you dream about them? ’
  • ’ You came back. ’
  • ’ Nobody gets left behind. ’
  • ’ I need someone to be my friend. Someone who won’t run away. ' 
  • ’ His destructive programming is taking effect. ’
  • ’ Did you ever kill anyone? ’
  • ’ Are you.. happy? ’
  • ’ I am the one they call when things go wrong and things have, indeed, gone wrong. ’
  • ’ Our family’s little now, and we don’t have many toys. ’
  • ‘ If you want, you could be a part of our family. ’
  • ’ We’d raise you to be good. ’
  • ’ She likes your butt and fancy hair. ’
  • ’ I read her diary. ’
  • ’ Not guilty! My experiments are only theoretical, and completely within legal boundaries. ’
  • ’ He was designed to be a monster, but now he has nothing to destroy. ’
  • ’ I never gave him a greater purpose. ’
  • ’ What must it be like to have nothing, not even memories to look back on in the middle of the night? ’
  • ’ If you promise not to fight anymore, I promise not to yell at you, except on special occasions. ’
  • ’ Stupid head. ’
  • ’ Did you catch fire again? ’
  • ’ This is your badness level. It’s unusually high for someone your size. We have to fix that. ’
  • ’ Don’t leave me, okay? ’
  • ’ Do you want to be taken away? ’
  • ’ You’re just jealous 'cause I’m pretty! ’
  • ’ My friends need to be punished. ’
  • ’ Heard you lost your job. ’
  • ’ Thus far you have been adrift in the sheltered harbor of my patience. ' 
  • ‘ After all you’ve put me through, you expect me to help you just like that? ’
  • ’ He’s very persuasive. ' 
  • ’ I know you had something to do with this. ’
  • ’ Oh, good! I was hoping to add theft, endangerment and insanity to my list of things I did today. ’
  • ’ I prefer to be called evil genius. ’
  • ’ You smell like a lawn mower. ’
  • ’ I have just determined the situation to be far too hazardous! ’
  • ’ Don’t worry. I won’t hit her. ’
  • ’ This is low even for you! ’
  • ’ You are all mine. ’
  • ’ You know I have no choice. ’
  • ‘  Please don’t do this. ’
  • ’ You’re making this harder than it needs to be. ’
  • ’ She needs me. ’
  • ’ Leave me alone to die. ’
  • ’ What is that monstrosity? ’
  • ’ Does this look infected to you? ’
  • ’ You’d better not have rabies. ’
  • ’ Hiding behind your little friend won’t work anymore. ’
  • ’ Didn’t I tell you? We got fired this morning. ’
  • ’ That is the ugliest thing I have ever saw! ’
  • ’ It has no place among us. ’

Question: so if a demigod did one of those DNA tests like on Ancestry or something, what would happen? Only their mortal parent has DNA, so theoretically demigods only have half the DNA that a mortal has. Would the test come back with an error, or would it just show the DNA from the mortal parent? Maybe gods give something very similar to DNA, as their children look alike, so maybe the test picks that up too and shows them as like 50% greek?

TVLine May Sweeps Spoilers!

Extremely excellent description of Arrow’s May finale. Not a ton of new information, but this is the first time the description has connected back to Robert Queen which has me very excited. It all started with Robert Queen… that’s where it must end for Oliver. (X)

It might at first seem attractive to say things like “Marxism can’t explain everything and although it is useful in its particular domain it’s not enough to explain the experiences of xyz, etc.”—but there’s a few things that people forget or don’t realize when they say that.

First, people mistake Marxism for a specific set of conclusions. When we realize that certain issues like racial or national oppression cannot be strictly analyzed through the lens of some pre-existing categories within the Marxist “canon,” we may be tempted to say that Marxism has reached its limit here. I must insist in contrast that, while i certainly feel many of the conclusions typically associated with Marxism are correct, all of these conclusions could actually be wrong and Marxism would still be “true” in the sense that it is most fundamentally a revolutionary way of approaching problems and enacting social change

Second, what is particularly insidious about the idea that Marxism “doesn’t apply” to this or that is the broader implication—which is quite consistent with postmodern theory in general—that different “domains” of life require us to use different approaches, different methodologies, different systems, etc. Wittgenstein, for example, was one of the people who most rigorously argued this, and he held that different domains of life were playing different “language games” which each had their own logic. One conclusion that follows from this is that no domain of social life is really poised to evaluate the validity of the others or appeal to universal truths. This can seem like a compelling line of reasoning, especially since it aligns with the dominant ideology of late capitalism. But it begins to fall apart when one realizes that, to even be able to distinguish where different domains of social life lie and what separates them requires a “global” logic by which you make the distinctions. Proponents of the notion that there can only be “local” theoretical and political systems tailored to the specific conditions of different “domains” do not at all escape appealing to universals; they simply leave the universal principles upon which they base their conclusion completely unsaid, which i feel is extremely dangerous. At least with the liberal humanists, although they simply assert universality from on-high and base their notion on the most vague of abstractions, you know what their assumptions are.

So the question is, what do you hold to be universal? Because without universality, the notion of specificity literally has no meaning.

What do i think? Well, i think Marxism as a theoretical and political practice does have boundaries, but it is able to evaluate where its own boundaries lie utilizing certain principles which are universal. To be precise materialist dialectics contain statements about the very nature of existence which are of necessity global. The fact that materialist dialectics are the product of a concrete practice—namely, taking the standpoint of proletariat in the realm of theory—does not jeopardize their universal “reach.” In fact, i would say that the proletariat, a force which occurs at the point where the various contradictions of society fuse, is particularly poised to access the universal.

Further, the boundaries of Marxism as assessed under the framework of materialist dialectics are larger than many people assume. Remember that Marx does not simply presuppose social class and then analyze society through that lens. Marxism is ultimately interested in the social formation as a whole and in particular in the transformation of that social whole. Marx arrives at the concept of social class as a result (not as the point of departure!) of the study of the social formation in its entirety (which is also why he really only began to concretely articulate the concept of class near the end of his life). So, Marxism is immediately relevant whenever we are talking about the revolutionary transformation of social life. And i am convinced that it remains the best tool for catalyzing revolutionary change there is. After all, it is not a coincidence that the most successful revolutionary movements around the globe have either been explicitly communist or have at least tried to appropriate certain elements of Marxism to suit their purposes.

Long story short, Marxism as a whole “package” may have limits, but they are broader than most people assume, and within Marxism there are universal principles, without which it is impossible to even distinguish what is specific. 

Harry Potter things I found out were real after I moved to the UK:
- boarding schools*
- students walking from class to class
- school houses
- prefects

anonymous asked:

Mate/soulmate pretty please

AU/AH. So. Much. Fluff.

The funny thing about being a person, or the sad thing depending on your perspective, is that one was confined to their own vision of the world. No, really, this isn’t a matter of theoretical thinking only. This is also literal. It’s why one can never realize that they had weak eyesight till they tried on glasses. Or how one doesn’t realize that their hearing is impaired until they are given a hearing aid. The list goes on and on, really. And no shocking discovery to limited vision of the world was like Caroline’s.

It started ever since she was as young as four years old. Her mother, Caroline began to notice, had awful taste. She had no sense whatsoever of color coordination. Their house was an absolute mess of colors. Pinks were put with unflattering reds and oranges. The bedsheets were a combination of loud yellows and greens. The living room was dull greys and whites with a stark red couch. It looked like someone just put random things together. And her mother’s outfits? Do not even get her started on that. It’s like her mother had no sense whatsoever of color coordination. Caroline had no qualms over pointing that out to her mom, repeatedly.

“Why do you dress like that, mom?”

“No, mom, I’m not wearing those shoes with this dress, they don’t match!”

Her mother didn’t seem to give much thought into her daughter’s antiques, dismissing her as a stubborn child. She went along with whatever her daughter said but never really and truly thought of what it might mean. And, perhaps if she had, then Caroline wouldn’t have found herself shell-shocked at fifteen while shopping with her friends.

Bonnie was holding up navy blue high heels to a green dress, asking her what she thought.

“Bon, you need black shoes. Those are navy blue.” Caroline said dismissively, grabbing the same pair that Bonnie liked but in the right color. She turned around to hand it to her friend only to find her looking at her with eyes wide, mouth hanging opened.

“Care…” Bonnie said slowly, “when did you start seeing colors?”

Caroline blinked. “Umm… what?”

“Caroline,” Bonnie put down her items onto a nearby seat and coming closer to her friend with a grin plastered across her face. “Did you meet your soulmate?”

“Bonnie, what on Earth are you talking about?” Caroline, confused and slightly afraid, looked at her friend as if she was growing a second head.

Bonnie’s smile began to slowly disappear. “Did your mom not have a talk with you? Have you always seen in color?”

“What talk? What do you mean have I always seen in color? Bonnie, you’re sounding like a crazy person right now.”

Except, it turned out, Bonnie was not the crazy person. Caroline was. To an extent at least. It turned out, she wasn’t supposed to see in color until she met her soulmate. It turned out, no one saw in color until they met their soulmate. Parents, those who had time for their children and have actually found their soulmates, had talks with their children as early as when they turned fourteen years old, telling them how the world is actually in color. And when they see color, they’ll know they met their soulmate. And the first color that they see will be that of their soulmate’s eyes. But no one flaunted their ability to see color.  It was considered rude to do so, especially at such a young age. Finding one’s soulmate during their teenage years was rare. And there was no need to enflame jealousy. Eventually the secret would come out in any case, since those with soulmates stuck together instead of dating sporadically. The keeping it as a secret, though, did not apply to friends. Friends tell.

None of that concerned Caroline, though. What concerned was: first, how in heavens name did she manage to completely evade this information for so long; and, second, how could she see color already? She had never seen the world in black and white, not once. The world had been in colors for as long as she remembered.

With that in mind, Bonnie took Caroline to her grams.

“It’s one of two things, dear,” grams said, “you have either met your soulmate as an infant or a child already. Or you are a strange anomaly and you don’t have a soulmate.”

“That’s not helpful,” Caroline muttered. “How do I find out which one it is? What do I do if I don’t have a soulmate?”

“If you have indeed met your soulmate already, then you’ll find out when you see them again. Your heart will tell you. And if you have no soulmate, then you’ll fall in love and be just as happy. It’s no bother, Caroline.” Grams smiled much to Caroline’s frustration. How could she act as if this was of no big consequences?

“What do I do now?” she demanded.

“Nothing. Just be patient.”

Patience wasn’t her strong suit. But she hadn’t much of a choice.

Seven years later, in her first semester as a grad student, an infuriating Klaus Mikaelson walked into her class. At first glance, he was handsome. At a second glance, he was an arrogant asshole who had no sense whatsoever of the word “no”. At third he was still frustratingly attractive. But the kind of attractive that warranted nothing more than a romp in the bed. And he didn’t seem to mind that one bit.

After many, many, many arguments over critical feminist theory, Caroline found him in her bed. For a long time, that’s the only way they associated with one another. Stress-relievers. Friends with benefits with too much benefits and not enough friendship. Call it what you will. Except, time after time there was more soft touching, more passionate whispering, more intense kissing. Until she caught him one time looking up at her with the gentlest look she’s ever seen anyone wear. His face was nuzzled in her stomach, leaving gentle, burning kisses, and his eyes were tracing every twitch on her face. So fixated his gaze was, so intent that she felt a nakedness beyond her physical one.

“What?” she asked breathlessly.

He didn’t answer her, just continued his climb from her stomach, over her breasts, her shoulders, her neck, leaving a trail of fire behind him before capturing her lips in a slow kiss. He kissed her as if he was in no hurry at all. He kissed her like they had all the time in the world. He kissed her like his entire universe had just shrunk into her mouth and he was searching for his purpose in her.

After they collapsed together, finding a bliss that made her heart beat in a way that frightened her, he held her close. His eyes didn’t let up their search. His index finger traced her cheek, then her lower lip.

“Klaus…” she breathed, not knowing what exactly she wanted to say. She cannot possibly tell him that her heart is about to burst.

“Go out with me, love.”

She averted her gaze from his stormy blue ones to the tattoo spread on his shoulder. She reached out to him, tracing the ink gently with her fingers.

“Tell me first,” she began, realizing her nerves for the first time, “do you see colors?”

He chuckled. “I’m an artist, Caroline, of course I see color.”

She gave him a look, “you know that’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” he said. “I have always seen color.”

“Me, too.” She breathed.

“And I don’t believe in soulmates. Never have.”

“Then why are you asking me out?” she teased, unable to explain the relief that came over her.

“Because I believe that I’m falling in love with you.”

She blinked, then caught his lips in a bruising kiss. Suffice to say, saying “no” did not even occur to her.


“It is a pity that we have to leave this town.” Esther said, taking another sip of her tea. “But Mikael cannot refuse this offer.”

“The town will not be the same without you.” Liz said, smiling sadly at her friend. “I was hoping that Caroline would get to play with Nik and Rebekah.” She grinned at three-years-old Klaus with Caroline bundled on his lap. He was looking at the infant, wide-eyed with fascination. She reached out to touch his face. He responded by making faces at her which she laughed at.

“Indeed.” Esther chuckled. “It would appear Caroline had already charmed Niklaus.”

An hour later, as Niklaus walked beside his mother towards her car, he noticed for the first time that the car was a loud red.

Oats held his axe before him as if it were made of some rare and delicate metal.
“Begone, foul fiend–” he began.
“Oh, dear me,” said the Count, thrusting the axe aside. “And don’t you learn anything, you stupid man? Little stupid man who has a little stupid faith in a little stupid god?”
“But it… lets me see things as they are,” Oats managed.
“Really? And you think you can stand in my way? An axe isn’t even a holy symbol!”
“Oh.” Oats looked crestfallen. Agnes saw his shoulders sag as he lowered the blade.
Then he looked up, smiled brightly and said, “Let’s make it so.”
Agnes saw the blade leave a gold trail in the air as it swept around. There was a soft, almost silken sound.
The axe dropped onto the flagstones. In the sudden silence, it clanged like a bell. Then Oats reached out and snatched the child from the vampire’s unresisting hands. He held her out to Magrat, who took her in shocked silence.
The first sound after that was the rustle of Granny’s dress as she stood up and walked over to the axe. She nudged it with her foot.
“If I’ve got a fault,” she said, contriving to suggest that this was only a theoretical possibility, “it’s not knowing when to turn and run. And I tends to bluff on a weak hand.”
Her voice echoed in the hall. No one else had even breathed out yet.
She nodded at the Count, who’d slowly raised his hands to the red wound that ran all around his neck.
“It was a sharp axe,” she said.

– on holy symbols | Terry Pratchett, Carpe Jugulum

sbakkoushs  asked:

(bc that court one healed me) Prompt: Imagine how happy Neil is (and Andrew even tho he wouldn't show it) when they end up on their first team together after the foxes????

okay i’m just:

  • them moving in together. neil joins andrew’s team and moves into andrew’s apartment, the one that he helped to choose on a long weekend during the hectic process of andrew’s trade. the one where the agent said, “oh, you brought a friend to look with you?” and neil giving her a glare vicious enough to strip paint
  • neil sells pretty much all the furniture from his old apartment because he doesn’t give a shit about it, but he does bring: a collection of kitchen knives that dan gave him as a ‘welcome-to-graduated-life’ present with the caveat that he didn’t cut himself, a small collection of books given to him by his old neighbour who has a taste for sci-fi and dystopia (he thinks andrew will like them), and a large number of photos from the last several years that he covers half a wall with
  • (he looks at them one by one as he takes them down to pack them, smiling a little with the fondness and nostalgia they evoke)
  • andrew picking him up from the airport, meeting him not inside the terminal but out in the parking lot, where they can stand very close and talk for a little while in something that almost feels like a welcome home to neil
  • andrew doesn’t use all the drawers in his dresser, so neil takes half of them for his stuff. he debates buying a second dresser but writes it off as a waste of time
  • he returns: a pair of sweatpants, a pair of sneakers that andrew left last time he was in town, 2 hoodies with minyard on them, and a shirt that he only theoretically returns, seeing as it goes in with the rest of his own clothes. he’s keeping that one
  • he gets in return: 4 pairs of socks that andrew has somehow stolen from him, and a stretched-out t-shirt that he takes to wearing because andrew’s expression gets intense when it gapes to show his collar bones
  • he likes andrew’s bed, but he brings the sheets he bought himself as spares. the second he’s not looking andrew throws them out because they’re shitty quality and he didn’t live this long to have to sleep with sheets that feel vaguely plastic when you lie on them
  • (neil likes andrew’s bed, and he likes andrew in andrew’s bed, and he likes being with andrew in andrew’s bed. except now it’s their bed. a brief break in unpacking (not a long process anyway) is likely made to take advantage of this fact)
  • andrew hasn’t done anything about the interior paint, which is neutral creams and beiges except for the one bright red wall in the living room. on the day neil moves in, andrew comes into said living room to find neil staring at the red wall with a blank expression. he waits him out until he blinks, breathing just a little too fast, and says, “blue?” 
  • andrew nods (he doesn’t care) (he cares about things that put that expression on neil’s face) (they go paint shopping the next weekend and neil ends up with spatters of it in his hair which stubbornly refuse to wash out)
  • just neil finding room for himself in andrew’s space, which is easy!! because andrew is right there making room for him!!!!
  • neil coming out of the bedroom after putting up all his photos and finding andrew on the couch, on his phone, and just. climbing onto the couch and putting his head in andrew’s lap and saying, “now you’re really going to have to work to get rid of me”
  • and andrew saying, “you know i can’t turn down a challenge”
  • except that his fingers are already in neil’s hair, and neil looks up at him with an expression that says you’re not going to get rid of me, all quirked mouth and eyes like goddamned stars, and fuck him if he isn’t right
  • (renee sends housewarming flowers even though andrew has been living there for a year. neither of them know what to do with flowers but neil is willing to do an internet search to find out)
  • (matt emails a bunch of hideous ‘congratulations on your wedding’ e-cards with flowers and ribbons and wedding rings on that neil never ever shows andrew)
  • their first practice together, the coach introduces neil to the entire team as though he has no idea that neil and andrew are together. he actually does know, but he’s the only one, and he has a bet with the defence coach on how long it’s going to take his players to catch on
  • it’s not like they don’t know who neil josten is. they’ve been speculating about his arrival for weeks, since they heard who their new signing was going to be (andrew hasn’t said a word, only glared at someone who asked what it was like to play with the guy in college. the questions died off after that)
  • neil’s exactly what they expected in practice - fast, cool-eyed and sharp-tongued, shorter in real life than he looks on TV, reckless to the point of self-injury. good. scores on andrew and yells “better luck next time, minyard” like an asshole, and somehow doesn’t get a ball to the helmet
  • he’s not quite like what they expected out of it - sticks close to andrew, smiles more sweetly than someone who talks like that should be able to, defers to the coaches. ‘nice’ isn’t the right word for him, but it’s kind of hard to hate him. except when he opens his mouth
  • their team winning, and neil being the only one to approach andrew (the others have well and truly figured out he doesn’t care for the celebration aspect of winning by now), speaking to him with his head bowed and pulling away with a smile over his face. andrew still looks bored, unless you happen to know him well enough
  • (the others don’t figure it out until neil casually refers to the apartment as ‘ours’, and then doesn’t lie when they ask who he lives with, and also clarifies without pause that they aren’t just roommates in a subtle but unmissable way. they’re insufferable for weeks about it, in a good-natured way)
  • (andrew still considers killing all of them. neil included)
  • a few weeks into cohabitation, round 2: neil looking over his shoulder where he’s standing in front of the open fridge and smiling a little - and then pausing at the expression on andrew’s face. saying, shy, “I like being here”
  • andrew saying, “close the fridge. we have an air conditioner”
  • andrew meaning, i like it too

anonymous asked:

What are your opinions on Porrim?

i don’t really have any. with the exception of Aranea and Meenah, none of the dancestors have enough character to shake a stick at, or enough relevance to justify it. they exist to create A6A6′s villain, and the eventual fall of the GO timeline; aside from that, their inclusion in the story interrupts the flow of the narrative and tosses in a lot of characters who don’t ever manage any relevance. Aranea and Meenah could have been introduced on their own, leaving the rest of the dancestors to the fans’ imagination, but instead you have to work through a whole flash game just to find out that Tavros’ ancestor was a playboy and Eridan’s ancestor was a literal sack of festering shit

so on the whole, although Porrim is my favorite dancestor, and her design is nice, i like her more for what her character could have been than what it is. a lot of fans have done better things with the dancestors than hussie did – giving them character, nuance, history, etc. – but unfortunately, all of that is transformative.


Hello, fellow Phans! If you haven’t yet seen it, this is @butchhartman‘s “tour of the Ghost Zone” linked straight from his official YouTube channel. The first six minutes (or up to 5:54, to be exact) are mostly a recap of what loyal viewers already know, with a few comments that might be good to take note of. After that, Hartman gets into some interesting ideas that are not seen in the show itself. The key points will be covered below the cut with references to the times they are mentioned in the video, for those of you who can’t watch it right now!

I apologize in advance for being overly wordy, I am very very excited about some of this (most. all?)!

Keep reading

How are gems able to travel the vast distances between star systems? Well, it looks like they just showed us how! The attention to detail in this show is remarkable. 

(explanation below)

The closest star to earth, besides the sun, is about 4.4 light years away, meaning that traveling at the speed of light, it would take 4.4 years to get there. The approximate diameter of our galaxy is 100,000 light years. According to known laws of physics, matter cannot travel faster than light. So how is Homeworld able to go around galaxy conquering so quickly?

That ship appears to be creating an Alcubierre drive, one of the only theoretical propulsion methods capable of faster-than-light interstellar travel. I’m no expert, so correct me if I am wrong, but the physics behind it essentially are that it compresses the fabric of space in front of it and expands the space behind it, effectively meaning that the ship does not move at all, but rather rides on a ripple in the very fabric of reality. Matter cannot travel at speeds faster than light, but there is no limit to how fast space itself can expand. 

One proposed method for creating an Alcubierre drive is to create an artificial black hole in front of the ship to compress the spacetime in front of it. That is what they are doing here! Sorry for the long winded explanation; I get really excited when cartoons do their science right!

So there you have it, that is the level of technology Homeworld possesses. 

|| 1st March, 2017 ||
2/100 days of productivity.

I didn’t get as much done today as I would of liked, but I spent my study time working on knowledge, truth, belief and the social construction of theoretical knowledge.

Only half way through week 1 of honours and I already feel like I’m heading for a breakdown haha.

Lovely desktop background by @emmastudies
Check out her blog, it’s amazing!

Happy Studying x

“Książę Szaranek” - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

Theoretically this is a Polish version of “Le Petit prince” (”The Little Prince”, “Mały książę”) by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. But only theoretically because this book is translated into…

Wielkopolska (Great Poland) subdialect

Title: “Książę Szaranek” (litteraly “The Prince-Boy”)

A part of my family still live in Wielkopolska (Great Poland; a historical region of west-central Poland. Its chief city is Poznań). I wasn’t born in this region but thanks to my grandparents, aunts and mom I know a little of this subdialect. I’ve chosen a fragment about the sheep to show you how it looks like:

  • French:
    Le premier soir je me suis donc endormi sur le sable à mille milles de toute terre habitée. J'étais bien plus isolé qu'un naufragé sur un rideau au milieu de l'océan. Alors vous imaginez ma surprise, au levé du jour, quand une drôle de petite voix m'a réveillé. Elle disait:
    - S'il vous plaît… dessine-moi un mouton!
    - Hein!
    - Dessine-moi un mouton…
  • English
    The first night, then, I went to sleep on the sand, a thousand miles from any human habitation. I was more isolated than a shipwrecked sailor on a raft in the middle of the ocean. Thus you can imagine my amazement, at sunrise, when I was awakened by an odd little voice. It said:
    “If you please–draw me a sheep!”
    “Draw me a sheep!”
  • Polish:
    Pierwszego wieczoru zasnąłem na piasku, o tysiąc mil od terenów zamieszkałych. Byłem bardziej osamotniony, niż rozbitek na tratwie pośrodku oceanu. Toteż proszę sobie wyobrazić moje zdziwienie, gdy o świcie obudził mnie czyjś głosik. Posłyszałem:
    - Proszę cię, narysuj mi baranka.
    - Co takiego?
    - Narysuj mi baranka.
  • Wielkopolska (Great Poland) subdialect:
    Za ciemnego ćpiłym się nynać na piochu o tysiąc mil od jakiygoś bedejniek ludzkiego pomieszkanio. Czułym się barzy som niż rozbitek na tratwie po środyszku oceanu. Tej, ino se pomyślcie, jaki musiołym być ogupiały, kiedy już za jasnego ze śpiku mnie wyrwoł madaiczny głosik:
    - Tej, jo ciebie proszę… nagrygol mi baranka.
    - Co chciołeś?
    - Nagrygol mi baranka…

My mom and aunt are not so positive about the translation into Wielkopolska (Great Poland) subdialect. They would have used different endings of verbs or even change some words - probably because Great Poland is a big region and it is impossible to people to have the same version of the same subdialect. Here is their translation (only a little bit different but still they have changed it):

  • Wieczorym ćpiłbym sie spać na piochu ło tysiąc mil łod jakieguś bedejniek ludzkiygu pomieszczynio. Czułym sie barzy som niż rozbitek na tratwie po środyszku łoceanu. Tej, ino se pomyślcie, jaki musiołym być łogupiały, kiedy już we dnie ze śpiku mnie wyrwoł dziwoczny głosik
    - Tej, jo cie proszę… nagrygol mi baranka.
    - Co żeś chcioł?
    - Nagrygol mi baranka…

I’m gonna have so much fun with this book…

Against Thought Leaders

To those of us who grew up through the Bush administration, one grew up used to seeing protests.  Against the war, against torture, against the collapse of our wellbeing.  But these were abbreviated affairs, we would march, perhaps some of us would fight against the police and get tut tutted by the New York Times, but then we would return home and the resistance would dissipate.  We would return to our ‘ordinary’ lives, go back to watching the Daily Show, to laughing at some new Bushism, to listening to punk music.  

To the radicals among us, this was a horrid state of being, a state which the reader can easily identify with: of not being able to do enough, of seeing horrors on the TV and wanting to do something about it, but not knowing what, of wanting to see a better world while knowing that the current one is a hellscape.

This isn’t a unique situation, it has been the situation every generation of Leftists has faced since the Second World War.  This fear has led to a similar reaction across the whole of the ‘West’, across all of these generations.  A certain kind of person looks the revolutionary future and the counter-revolutionary present and draws a line, connected by an imaginary dot.  This dot can be any kind of thing, depending on one’s ideology: for some it is the Third-World Worker, for some it is the spontaneous proletariat, for some it is the Party, for some it is Movement.  Without an exception, however, is one simple fact: that this ‘dot’ is not a thing that the artist need interact with, indeed, the less interaction the better. To interact with this Object is to diminish it’s usefulness as a palliative, to weaken the illusion, that this revolution can happen without you needing lift a finger, without you needing to ‘do the hard work’.

A curious thing happens to these sorts of people: they begin to develop more of an attachment to the revolution (and by extension the revolutionary) which exists in their minds than the one which can potentially exist in the here-and-now.

When Occupy Wall Street happened, when the Black Lives Matter movement started, when the resistance to the North Dakota Pipeline began, we could see these Leaders of Thought, who come to teach us about Marxism, or about hierarchy, who appear to tell us that we’re doing it wrong.  This was very well true, one cannot pretend that these movements are perfect or were perfect.  But here is the crucial difference, which separated the mere critic from the Thought Leader: if we were only to accept the Thought Leader’s wisdom, if we were only to toe their theoretical line, if we were to accept their knowledgeable leadership, they promise us that we would somehow have gained the power to defeat the police, to defeat the national guard, to turn the occupation of a city park into a revolution.

To a Thought Leader, who has a whole revolution that has never breached the outskirts of their skull, the knowledge they have gained, the books they have read, the ink they have spilled, has given them a perfect ability over the situation, and thus makes them uniquely capable for leading us.  They tell us they would sacrifice anything to participate in the revolution, but what they mean is that they would be willing to give up anything to enter a fantasy world, wherein they are the chosen one, where their credentials are accepted and they are catapulted into the Management of the Left.

And in order to protect this imaginary revolution, in which they are parachuted in, Lenin-like, to save the day, they will criticize any and every actually revolutionary activity, with the secret held that if only you would shut up, if only you were to exist like the revolutionaries in my thoughts, we would win.  This ignores the material reality of revolution, which is rarely won by spilling ink, which is not something to be ‘controlled’ by an intellectual leadership.  If our resistance requires leaders, I apologize my friend, but it is not you!  Our leaders will emerge from our practices, they will have done the work we have done, they will know us personally, they will not interact with us as Objects in their mind.

But fear not, Thought Leader, the revolution has a role for you! It is the same role it has for everyone else, to help where you can, to fight where you can. Your credentials are not up for consideration!  Your CV will not give you a managerial role over us!

You must know the difference between imagination, theoretical knowledge and true realization. Could you nourish yourself by only listening to a talk on food? To know food only theoretically is to always remain hungry. You must eat to satisfy hunger. So he who seeks new doctrines continuously but does not put them into practice in his life is in continual spiritual starvation.
—  Paramahansa Yogananda

An interesting thing about Shavu’ot, the Jewish holiday which starts Saturday night:

There is a custom to stay up for an all night study session called a “tikkun lein shavu’ot.” Until the 16th Century, it was mostly theoretical, and only a very small handful of people would even try.

In the 16th Century, coffee drinking became widespread in the Ottoman Empire, and tikkunei leil shavu’ot started to actually happen there. As coffee moved West, so did the tradition of having a tikkun.

anonymous asked:

Hey I got a Tomco fic idea, I was watching the disney movie Lilo and Stitch, and wanted to know if you could do a Tomco fic version

I’VE BEEN WANTING TO DO A LILO AND STITCH AU FOREVER AND NEVER GOT THE CHANCE! I loved doing this! I hope you like it! It’s the first part and if you like it feel free to request a continuation! I hope you like that way I matched the characters up!


“Janna Ordonia! You stand accused by the high council of illegal genetic experimentation!” Hekapoo called down to her. “How do you plead?”

“Not guilty!” Janna insisted. “My experiments are only theoretical! And completely within legal bounds!” She assured.

“We believe you actually created something.” Hekapoo narrowed her eyes and gasps filled the courtroom. Janna scoffed.

“Created something! Ha! That would be irresponsible and unethical!” She explained. “I would never, EVER-“ a cage being unveiled in the courtroom cut off Janna. Inside was a purple alien with three eyes and horns. Louder gasps filled the court as they saw this creature paw at the cage. Janna bit her lip and continued. “Uh… Make more than one?” She tried.

The creature yelled and growled, trying to get out of the age. He hissed and let out gurgles. “What is that monstrosity!” Hekapoo cried.

“Monstrosity?” Janna seemed offended. “What you see before you is the first of a new species! I call him experiment 626! He’s bulletproof, fireproof, can see in the dark! And possesses the power to control the element of FLAMES!” Janna cackled and threw her head back. “His only instinct is to destroy EVERYTHING HE TOUCHES!” Janna yelled.

“So it IS a monster.” Hekapoo narrowed her eyes and Janna shrugged.

“Just a little one.” She assured.

“It’s disgusting!”

“A freak!”

“Kill it!”

“A monster!”

Everyone in the court yelled and screamed before Hekapoo silenced them. “Calm yourselves! Perhaps he can be reasoned with.” She suggested. And then addressed the monster. “Experiment 626, give us some sign you understand any of this. Show us there is something inside you that is good.” She begged. The monster turned around and cleared his throat. Everyone leaned forward in anticipations and 626 opened his mouth.

“IKNA AMA FISTA!” 626 screamed in some alien language. Everyone in the court gasped and he laughed evilly.

“I didn’t teach him that!” Janna insisted. 626 hissed and screamed, trying to claw at the cage. He was ignited and spreading his flames around the cage, yelling and laughing like he was an evil monster.

“Place that idiot scientist under arrest!” Hakapoo yelled. Janna was cuffed and as she was carted away she yelled back;

“I prefer to be called an EVIL GENIUS!” She yelled.

“And as for that, it has no place among us.” Hekapoo said in reference to the monster. “It is the product of a deranged mind.” She looked over at Rhombulus. “Take him away.” She instructed. Rhombulus nodded and crystallized the monster, carting him off to be destroyed. They put the creature in his crystal in a secured room of the ship.

“He is to be sent off to sent a drift on an abandoned asteroid.” He explained to the other guards. He took a seat in his chair only to hear an alarm go off.

“THE MONSTER IS LOOSE!” The captain cried.

“How?!” Rhombulus demanded.

“He melted through the crystal! We didn’t know he could burn so hot!” She explained. “He’s loose on deck C!” She told everyone. “Red alert! Have all stations on deck C!” She rounded up the troops and they all followed her to find the monster. The platoons dashed up the steps to the next deck, but then they got there a vent was bent out of place and the monster was no place to be seen.

“I… don’t think he’s on the ship anymore…” A soldier spoke. There was noise coming from the emergency shuttles and they all looked out the window to see one flying hectically.

“Confirmed!” The captain cried. “He’s taken a police cruiser!” She yelled at the troops and they all ran to other cruisers to try and shoot him out of the sky. Her right hand man sighed and looked out the window again.

“Yeah…. He took the red one.” He stated in a monotone voice.

The soldiers chased the monster down in the other cruisers and shot at him. 626 laughed diabolically and flew hazardously in between asteroids and planets as he was shot at. All of the sudden he lurched forward and sirens started going off.

“He’s hit!” A soldier called through the intercom. “His engine is shot he’s going down on a nearby planet!” She screamed.

“All back to the ship!” The captain commanded.

Everybody on board looked at the monitor tracking 626 with horror, waiting to see where the evil thing would land. They saw the planet on the monitor and Hekapoo looked at the others. “What is that?” She asked, pointing to the map of the planet. The captain reported.

“Water, most of the planet is covered in it.” She responded.

“He won’t survive in water. He has a molten structure, he’ll go out!” She grinned. They watched the ship approach the body of water and gasped when it struck an island. Hekapoo punched the monitor and growled. “Of course.” She muttered. “We have no choice! We have to gas the planet.”

“HOLD IT! Hold on hold everything!” A voice interrupted. Hekapoo turned around to see a blonde girl with her arms full of papers. “I’m Star Butterfly, the specialist for this planet. It’s called earth and it’s home to the mosquito! The endangered species!” She yelled.

“Star Butterfly?” Hekapoo asked. Star nodded. “Are these… mosquitos an important animal for the intergalactic food chain?” She asked. Star looked offended.

“CRUCIAL!” She exclaimed. “We can’t gas the planet or islands! It’s a registered wildlife reserve!” She cried.

“Well a single assassination of 626 requires information about him we do not yet understand.” Hekapoo explained. “Somebody close to the monster to take him down, and who do you think we should send?” Hekapoo asked. Star was silent for a moment.

“Does he have a brother?”


Star followed Hekapoo through the prison. They passed cells and cells of inter dimensional crooks and criminals. When Hekapoo came to the right cell she opened the door to see Janna already smirking. “He got away?” She asked. Hekapoo narrowed her eyes.

“This comes as no surprise to you I’m sure.” Hekapoo responded. Janna snickered and nodded.

“I designed 626 to be an unstoppable force!” She cried. “I know him better than you, I should understand why he escaped.”

“Good. Then you go find him.” Hekapoo demanded. Janna made a face.

“No! You stole my creation! He’s your problem now. I warned you.” Janna crossed her arms and turned away.

“Then I’ll make you a deal.” Hekapoo spoke. “626 for your freedom. Bring him in and you are free to go, and your rank as a royal scientist will be restored.” Hekapoo promised. Janna smiled and turned around.

“Now that is interesting.” She grinned. “You have a deal Hekapoo.” She shook the deity’s hand. Star gasped and grabbed Hekapoo but the shoulder.

“You can’t send her there! Janna is a crazy person!” Star screamed quietly. “Who will keep her in check?” She asked. Hekapoo smiled.

“You.” She told her. Star jumped and tried to protest, but Hekapoo was already gone. Star whirled around and saw the alien girl in the prison jumpsuit.

“So, miss Star Butterfly, tell me where my monstrosity has been unleashed.”

  • The Spokeman: Doctor Moira Vahlen, you stand before this council accused of illegal genetic experimentation. How do you plead?
  • Vahlen: Not guilty! My experiments are only theoretical, and completely within moral boundaries.
  • The Spokesman: We believe you actually...created something.
  • Vahlen: Created something? But that would be irresponsible and unethical. I would never ever-
  • [The Viper King is revealed]
  • Vahlen: -make...more than one.