I have no idea what this is

deep yearning to be physically beautiful

Thor has stated multiple (27) times that he isn’t afraid to punch an old man.

Steve does it anyway.

Peter Q: flew out the window

Thor: flew-

Peter Q: yeah. Out the window. Left glass everywhere, Thor. You’re ruining my ship Thor- where are yoU TAKING US STOP THAT

Steve, arm raised for the past 42 hours: oh it hasn’t arrived yet :)

Thor:

Steve: :)

Thor: *sticks his arm out at the same time*

Mjolnir, stranded in space:

Rabbit, strawberry frosting on his face: you know the rules. No hammer over it = fair game

Thor: BUT I HAD KEPT TH-

Thor:

Thor:

Thor:

Thor:

——

Peter Quill, 6 hours later: he’s just been staring out of the window for the past six hours with silent tears streaming down his face.

Thor:

Peter Quill: He’s broken.

Thor:

**later**

Thor, coming out of the shower one day: that’s it. THAT’S IT. I GIVE UP. IT’S GONE AGAIN.

Thor: WHICH OF YOU JACKASSES TOLD STEVE I’M TAKING A BATH

Groot: I am Groot

Thor: no, you didn’t tell him, you’re too sweet for that.

Thor: Quail?

Peter: it’s Quill, and don’t look at me, look at Rocket!

Rocket: What? I didn’t tell him

Peter: that’s weird, how do you even know someone told Steve

Rocket: becaUSE STEVE’S LITERALLY ONLINE ON THE INTERCOM RIGHT NOW

—

Steve, waving: hi guys! I miss you! Come over for lunch sometime :)

—

Drax: suspicious

Rocket: NO IT’S NOT

Rocket: maybe it was Groot, Steve likes him an awful lot anyway

Groot: I AM GROOT

Peter: oh yeah? Then what were you doing by the intercom system just 82 minutes ago

Drax: he likes talking to the better Peter, everyone knows that

Peter: what the fuck do you mean “better”-

Rocket: alright, alright, let’s not fight. Just call it back, Thor

Peter: no, we have to get to the bottom of this.

Drax: you know, Thor’s been awfully quiet-

Thor: WHY THE FUCK WOULD I TELL HIM ABOUT MY OWN GODDAMN HAMMER

**much later**

Thor: nobody told Steve. I hid the hammer under my bed.

Thor: I predict ten minutes from now, they’ll be at each other’s throats with warpaint on their faces laser guns in their hands.

—a woman from a telepathic race based on anglerfish shows up in the ER in a panic because her mate, who is tiny and permanently attached to her body, has stopped communicating through their telepathic link

—the air-breathing doctors have to take over the aquatic ward after a mysterious illness spreads through the water-breathing staff

—an ambulance brings in an unconscious alien from a species totally outside of medical literature, the staff scramble to save their life while flying blind

Doc Hive

Dr Doe and Caddie (who I imagine isnt a doctor but just hangs around and listens to metal in the morgue a lot)

Dr Fred, and Nessie

Dr Lagoon

Oh my God I’m not sure of the accuracy of this scale but I made one anyways.

1: Jane Austen. Theoretically Romantic, mostly a clever satirist more interested in the novel as the perfect vehicle for social commentary than in poetry for capturing emotion. Very little chance of swooning and/or dramatic death. A very safe spot on the Romanticism scale.

2: Dorothy Wordsworth: Actually a Romantic, though not excessively so! Enjoy your long walks in the country. Keep those diaries. Your brother can mine them for publishable material until people consider them finally worthy of academic interest a century or two later.

3: Wordsworth. May result in later becoming annoyingly conservative but mostly harmless. Go ahead and wander lonely as a cloud. Gaze upon that ruined abbey.

4: Charlotte Turner Smith. Recover that English sonnet and transform it into a medium that mostly expresses sorrow! Help establish Gothic conventions! Have what Wordsworth called a true feeling for rural England! Die in penury and be forgotten by the middle of the nineteenth century!

5: Blake. ?? Who even knows man. Talk to angels. Create your own goddamn religion. Confuse all of your contemporaries.

6: Mary Shelly. Go ahead and run off with that unhappily married poet who took you on dates to your mother’s grave, but this may result in carrying your husband’s calcified heart around in a fragment of his last manuscript the rest of your life. But also, arguably inventing sci-fi as a genre… so that’s some consolation.

7: John Keats: listen to that nightingale but be forewarned: you will die of TB in Rome and everyone will mock you for dying of bad criticism instead of, you know, infectious disease.

8: Coleridge. May result in never finishing a poem and a severe opium addiction.

9: Percy Shelly. May result in being expelled from Oxford and in premonitions of your own death by drowning.

In particular, three people who have been condemned to hell are trapped eternally in a room together. And at first they think they got off easy without any pitchforks or fiery lakes or anything. But over the course of the play they discover that they have been chosen very specifically to have neuroses and character flaws that interact with and torment each other.

Each one needs the approval of a second in an unstable RPS cycle so that any time one of them might be satisfied by a second, the third swoops in and ruins it.

And when they figure this out, one of the characters expresses his understanding, that hell isn’t physical torture. “Hell is just—other people.”

So the point isn’t that other people, generically, are hellish; it’s rather that you can build a hell out of other people.

But when I hear people quote it, it’s usually sort of an introvert-pride thing. “Other people are hell; you should spend time alone.” And that’s not the point at all. It’s a statement about how bad unhealthy relationships can be, not a statement about how all relationships are unhealthy!

See also Sartre’s own comment here:

 i don’t wanna start Discourse on someone else’s post, so i have screenshotted the relevant phrase in order to say: so much Weird And Confusing Vegan Talk makes a lot more sense when you realize people have no goddamn idea where animal fibers come from.

i mean, if you’re such an absolutist that the death of a single insect four days early is unacceptable, of course follow your heart. but like.

bombyx morii moths do not have a life after the cocoon. they don’t have mouths. they mate and then starve to death. maybe they die with a deep sense of satisfaction, i dunno, maybe boiling the cocoon is depriving them of their ultimate life fulfillment, absolutely no one has any idea what moths think. but they are not going to go out and travel the world as beautiful flutter fairies. they’re going to fuck and die. that’s nature, folks.

it does not take thousands upon thousands of dead bugs to make enough silk thread for a kerchief or pair of gloves or whatever. the highest estimate i’ve seen is about 60 cocoons for the type of meter-long scarf you tuck under your coat collar, but that sounds high to me when you do it by weight. a silk scarf that weighs 100 grams is a hefty thing. 100 grams of wool is enough to make a thick pair of socks with enough left over for fingerless gloves, and silk is spun much finer. i would estimate, going by weight, that a meter-long oblong scarf would take more like 30 cocoons.

not 100,000.

the dead bugs aren’t just tossed out, btw. they’re a good source of protein, humans eat them in some places, and in others they’re used as part of animal feed. since they’re raised on mulberry leaves and nothing else, usually indoors, they’re a very clean and safe food source.

i realize this isn’t going to stop people being vegan, and it’s not my intention to anyway. you do you. i just want people to make their choices based on what’s actually happening in reality, not weird guesses or alarmist nonsense. if you’re imagining mountains of dead moths deprived of the best part of their lives, good news, that’s not a thing!

i mean if you insist here’s more

In the first chapter of JLA’s “Divided We Fall Arc” both Clark and Bruce reveal their civilian identities to the rest of the League. This is post “Tower of Babel” where nobody but Clark still trusts Batman, and in order to start building trust again, Clark urges Bruce to unmask himself to the rest of the team because Bruce obviously knows who everyone else is. Bruce agrees on one condition, Clark has to “unmask” himself as well.

When the big reveal goes down, Kyle Rayner says it best re: Clark being Superman: “He doesn’t…wear a mask. I never even…thought he had a…day job…”

That’s right, the canon reason why nobody makes the connection between Superman and Clark Kent is because nobody thinks that Superman HAS a civilian identity.

It figured out he was Clark…and Lex fired the scientist for wasting company resources because he COULDN’T BELIEVE that Superman would ever “Pretend” to be human because it would mean pretending to be “Weak”