Andor text post memes because im obsessed with the show
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Andor text post memes because im obsessed with the show

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i love andor's refusal to be subtle in the face of rising fascism. it's not complex metaphors for the audience to unpick. it's a kick in the fucking teeth. a banner and blaring alarms. THIS IS WHERE WE ARE. THIS IS WHERE WE'RE HEADING. it's knowing there's a time and place to be gentle and knowing the here and now needs us shouting from the rooftops. it's using energy independence, that thing tr*mp harps on about, as a cover for building the death star. it's a bunch of powerful empire officials brainstorming ways to colonise a planet for capitalist gains. it's the pomp and circumstance of the upper classes used to distract from the grit and ruin of the everyday. it's the visa inspection of harvest workers. it's the brutal abuse of power over "illegals" to the point of dehumanisation. but more than that. more than that. it's people working together against these forces of tyranny. it's kellen running around trying to keep them from the troopers. it's mon mothma trying to save her daughter. it's talia putting her legal status on the line to help them. it's brasso trying to save wilmon. it's wilmon running all the way home to help bix. it's cassian choosing home over orders. it's bix fighting for her fucking life rather than giving in. it's the fight. it's the people.
Andor stays a committed love letter to the unknown soldier. The rebellionâs lines have been pushed forward by hundreds who will never be recognized, even if their deeds are famous. Cassian has heard people claim to be at Aldhani, they donât even know he was there. The money that bankrolled the rebellion, and no one knows who did it. Luthen will never get a medal of honor, or see the light of gratitude. Nemikâs manifesto comes back in both finales, reaching people across the galaxy. Whole battalions have enlisted because of him, and heâll never be remembered. Without the unnamed soldier, weâd be nowhere
andor text post pt 5
seeing mon and kleyaâs thrilling escapes from coruscant makes leiaâs first reaction to luke and han even funnier. leia mustâve heard about these highly skilled rebels but then when she gets captured, she gets a hillbilly farmboy and an idiot smuggler to rescue her

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mon mothma meeting cassian andor literally a transcendent experience. mon has spent the last seventeen years utterly trapped in her life, able to trust no one, fighting the long fight, frightened and alone and waiting for something to snap and when sheâs just done the most direct thing sheâs ever done and she knows she will in all likelihood be killed for it she meets a man whose primary trait is Making Things Happen. oh this man has been hounding your steps for the last five years? he is now dead the instant he is close enough to shoot. and suddenly all at once instead of dying or rotting in an imperial cell mon is riding away from the life that has suffocated her slowly, free and unmoored, terrified and elated and grateful all at once (her hair mussed!). and cassianâŚliked her speech fine.
thinking about the people who vanished without a trace. The mutual who reblogged something as usual and never came back online. The friend on discord who just disappeared, and when you go to check on them their account is deleted and theres no other way to contact them
I look out of my window and hope you are okay, I wish you well and Im sorry I didn't get to say goodbye.
I hope we meet again someday but until then. Stay safe. Stay alive. Be well.
This was shared as a "bad" joke but I was so charmed by it I've been thinking about it for days.
Moose at the next table: No they don't. I've been waiting here for an hour.
Me, on the welcome desk in the library: Good morning, how are you today?
Customer: I have welcomed Jesus into my heart and so I am well today and every day.
Me, a little unnerved: Okay then! Is there something I can help you with?
Customer, digging around in his bag and pulling out an iPhone in a box: Unfortunately, Jesus can't help me with this fucking phone, so I came to the library.
The Library!
For When Not Even God Can Help You!

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Idioms of the World, Matt Lindley
My catâs body is so loose and saggy that he blended in perfectly with a sweater on the ground. When my mom was cleaning up, she thought he was part of the sweater and grabbed him. :(
You GRAB miette??? You grab miette like a sweater???
if you think about it, every time we tranquilize animals to transport them safely to another place, we are the sleep paralysis demon
Shutting my brain off to enjoy fantasy novels gets harder and harder all the time.
Stuff the European Middle Ages didnât have and it distracts me when they show up:
Potatoes
Oranges you could peel with your hands and eat
Sparkly diamonds
Musical harmony, eg guitar chords being played under a melody
A colourfast black dye for clothes
WHY DO I HAVE TO KNOW THESE THINGS. NO ONE CARES.
Petition to be able to scrub my brain of overly-detailed knowledge of the past.
(This is part of why I enjoy The Untamed. My brain is not stuffed with facts about Chinese history, so I donât automatically notice when they put a 15th century sleeve on a 13th century outfit. I realize this will wear off as I learn more about Chinese history, but itâs nice while it lasts.)
Lis I hope you know that every time I watch The Tudors I now giggle helplessly at the black clothing next to the skin thing.
Also now I have to check what sort of oranges they would have had in Tudor England ;).
Moors brought bitter oranges to Spain in the 10th century. The Alcazar palace of Seville in Spain is scented with extensive orange plantings. Thatâs why in English, theyâre often known as âSeville orangesâ. The oranges donât make good eating raw, but pieces appeared in food for their flavour and orange oil was used in perfumes for its scent. Orange marmalade in England is documented back to the late 15th century (and these days, English marmalade is the main use for bitter oranges, everyone else having decided they were too much trouble). Sweet oranges, which go back ages ago in China, only reached England after 1660.Â
(Hereâs a page about the history of citrus, which includes records of Henry VIIIâs citrus purchases)
I was about to say, they definitely had oranges, diamonds, and musical harmony. I'm not sure about potatoes, or the dye
They had diamonds. They did not have sparkly diamonds. Europe didnât develop the technology to make diamonds that refracted light and glittered until the middle ages had ended.
Medieval diamonds were cut very simply, so in some lights they would appear clear like glass, but they just as easily appeared black.
This is how diamonds were depicted in artwork:
Here are examples we have of diamonds cut using the table or point cuts available:
So all those medieval princesses with diamonds that âglitter like starlightâ or give off a âbrilliant white fireâ... yeah no. You want the 1600s and 1700s for that.
Ok but the potatoes thing is infuriating because I literally donât know how to write about food without potatoes. They became such a central food that the idea of not having access to them fills me with horror and dread, and every time I write a scene involving a kitchen, garden, or a dinner table, I am reminded that once people had to live in a world without joy. I for one am glad that I can live deliciously.
I just have to point out that if youâre writing a fantasy novel (as opposed to a historical novel, ie one set in the real world), you can literally ignore every single one of these things if you want! There are no rules! You can just say âin my world, potatoes are native to this countryâ or âin my world, they figured out how to cut diamonds earlierâ and thatâs all she wrote.
It honestly makes me sad how many people think fantasy has to be 100% historically accurate to a specific real world time and place or itâs âincorrectâ and youâre not doing it right, when the entire point of fantasy is that itâs not set on Earth. There is no correct or incorrect except for what the author says.
Of course if you want to write historical fiction, have at it! Historical fiction is great! But thatâs not the same genre as fantasy, and conflating the two does a real disservice to new writers getting into the fantasy genre who often become convinced that they have to write historical fiction or theyâre doing it wrong. And whatever you do, donât criticize fantasy works for being âhistorically incorrectâ, thatâs just a dick move.
ÂŻ\_(ă)_/ÂŻ Except a lot of fantasy presents itself as historical. Secondary world fantasy okay sure, do what you want (even if it is basically just Europe With the Names Changed) but a lot of fantasy bills itself as âThe Napoleonic Wars, but with dragonsâ and âThe court of Queen Elizabeth I, but with fairies!â and âMedieval Lithuania, but with elves and demons!â and go out of their way to create an elaborately detailed vision of Europeâs past.
And sure you can ignore that and eat potatoes all day long! But. If your fantasy is set in Europe, or even a heavily European-inspired world, I think itâs worth thinking about some of the common misconceptions we as a society hold about Europe.
I really believe that fantasy authors can play a role in rolling back some of the harmful, racist myths Europeans and their descendants have told about European history. For a long time Europe was seen as the home of ~civilization~ and ~learning~ and ~innovation~, and totally denied that it was also the home of colonization, imperialism, and conquest. Europeans ransacked the rest of the world for treasures, and brought them home and called them theirs. Europe has mythologized itself as a continent full of white people, natural inventors and discoverers, has erased the people of colour within it, and diminished the ones outside it.
So much of whatâs considered âEuropeanâ today was invented by or hugely shaped by other cultures, and our fantasy can reflect that Europe is part of a wider world and white people arenât the only ones in it.Â
Sweet oranges you can peel with your hands and eat originated in Southeast Asia. Europeans got far enough east to start bringing them back in the 15th or 16th century. Or maybe a dragon brought some back from a recent trip to Sri Lanka.
Potatoes developed through ten thousand years of human domestication in the Andes mountains of South America. In our world Europeans didnât start eating them until the 18th century, but maybe in this world humans have been crossing the Atlantic since antiquity, and ancient Roman merchants trading in the Maya city of Kaminaljuyu saw it presented as a crop from the mountains to the south.
Sparkling diamonds happened once Europeans got in contact with the advanced gemcutting techniques used in Mughal India. Instead of viewing the ~mysterious Orient~ as the origin of goods and luxuries that might as well grow on the trees, your story could acknowledge it as a place of science and learning, as the origin not just of things but of people and ideas.Â
Or if you want a secondary fantasy world, actually make it different from Europe, instead of having princesses in castles and knights in armour but rabbits are green and called âsmeerpsâ and the peasants eat potatoes.
Itâs also very, very worth making this argument because this is the kind of crap that gets to fly completely under the radar while bigots whine about having queer characters or people of color represented in their fantasy.Â
âBut itâs not reeeeealistic if thereâs a brown person!â Brenda, medieval Europe sure had a hell of a lot more brown people than it had potatoes, yet I donât see you whinging about those.Â

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This is literally me
For the life of me, I just canât study for my driverâs license.
My brain just goes into a big bad âUgggggghhhhhhâ mode
Itâs boring, I donât care about it, thereâs a thousand things I wish Iâd be doing instead. I hate the pervasive notion that you canât be a respectable adult unless you can drive.
I hate it when my partner says âwhen you can drive, weâll go on road trips together!â. I donât want to go on road trips. Sitting in a car is boring. Physically and mentally. The best way to enjoy a beautiful landscape, is to *actually* be in it, not taking picture from afar on the side of the road.
Holidays are far more interesting when you can go slow and observe and get immersed.
You may get rained on, but do you know whatâs worse? Not smelling the air and not feeling the wind on your skin and the ground under your feet.
You may not see all the spectacular things book guides says you should, but do you know whatâs also nice? Letting yourself be surprised by the small things. Five years on, I donât remember much from the Big Art Museum I visited in Tokyo, but Iâll forever remember the kind man working at the small, overlooked Peopleâs Museum who offered me a paper origami box at the end of my visit. I still have the box.
You may even find out that itâs a lot more enjoyable to let your sense of adventure speak instead of treating it like a box-ticking exercise. You may discover what itâs like to live in the moment when you stop the incessant picture-taking. Our trip to Scotland cost me 1000âŹ, and I didnât even have fun.