call me bun | she/her/they/them, mixed-race white+asian, 37 | asks, messages, and submissions are open | we do ourselves a disservice when we view questions as threats | redbubble
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lmao god, english upper class people... I was reading Mathilda, and there's all these monologues about the protagonist going insane from loneliness and not knowing how to act when she finally strikes up a friendship again; she has retired to a cottage in the woods and is essentially in hiding. All this time we're given the impression that she is utterly alone in that cottage. Much woe about the completeness of her loneliness. and then.
what do you mean your servant ...? in your cottage in the woods where you were so utterly alone? that one?
pt 2, this time Frankenstein by the same. Said Frankenstein is greatly relieved when he returns and the 'apartment was empty' because this means his monster has fled. but then
...did that servant materialise out of thin air to bring him food in his room. The place not actually empty, just empty of people of his own class. he just left the servant and his monster with each other while he was out.
Eventually the monster was like "well this is awkward. I'm out." and the servant presumably just filed the encounter under "weird shit upper class people do" and went on with his life.
I remember taking this college elective on film adaptations and we talked about the controversy caused by the PBS adaptation of Emma, which made a point of putting servants in every. single. scene, confronting the audience with the reality that the main characters are surrounded by servants constantly and are choosing not to acknowledge their presence. Emma is consoling her "poor" friend Harriet over her misfortune and the entire time a servant is standing there silently brushing Emma's hair or some shit.
Virtually every other adaptation of Emma does a very good job of invisiblizing the constant presence of the working class labor force that allowed these people to live the way they did.
A quote from Mary Shelley's Mathilda: '[...] arrived and quite incapable of taking off my wet clothes that clung about me. In the morning, on her return, [highlighted] my servant [end highlight] found me almost lifeless, while possessed by a high fever I was lying on the floor of my room.
A quote from Mary Shelley's Frankenstein: [...] hands for joy and ran down to Clerval. [highlighted] We ascended into my room, and the servant presently brought breakfast; [end highlight] but I was unable to contain myself. It was not joy only that possessed me; I felt my flesh tingle with excess of sensitiveness, and my pulse beat rapidly.]
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40,000 years ago, early humans painted hands on the wall of a cave. This morning, my baby cousin began finger painting. All of recorded history happened between these two paintings of human hands. The Nazca Lines and the Mona Lisa. The first TransAtlantic flight and the first voyage to the Moon. Humanity invented the wheel, the telescope, and the nuclear bomb. We eradicated wild poliovirus types 2 and 3. We discovered radio waves, dinosaurs, and the laws of thermodynamics. Freedom Riders crossed the South. Hippies burned their draft cards. Countless genocides, scientific advancements, migrations, and rebellions. More than a hundred billion humans lived and died between these two paintings—one on a sheet of paper, and one on the inside of a cave. At the dawn of time, ancient humans stretched out their hands. And this morning, a child reached back.
Danny Fenton gets a full ride to Gotham University, thanks to the Wayne Foundation. He won the scholarship after submitting his research on purple-back gorillas, seeing as the zoo incident had led to him wanting to study zoology after being a astronaut was out.
He was surprised that Gotham University had one of the best programs in zoology in the whole country, but that may be due to Bruce Wayne funding the whole department because his youngest loves animals.
In any case, he is expected to participate in specific requirements to keep his scholarship. Things like community service hours, GPA averages, and attendance to Wayne Galas.
Now community service isn't hard. He volunteers at an animal shelter. His GPA isnt hard, he has a 4.0 because when he cares, he is brilliant. No what's hard is the Galas.
He has to attend a total of 2. The scholarship fundraiser is unarguable, and another Gala of his choice. Danny has avoided the second one as best he can, and he knows it's to get rich people to donate so he can keep studying but the Galas are suffocating.
Mainly Danny stands in a corner invisible after the first 30 minutes, allowing himself to become visible when people start questioning where he is. He has to, otherwise he is acussed of not being there.
Danny is doing that when Bruce Wayne and his butler stop right before him and talk about the batcave.
Danny blinks, his eyebrow-raising higher and higher as they mutter details of a case. Then Bruce tells his butler to cover for him so he can go out. Danny follows and watches the man disappear down a clock, further investigation leads him to the Batcave.
So Bruce Wayne....is Batman. Huh. Welp that has nothing to do with Danny.
He returns to the party, appearing only four times, and heads home. The following morning he finds out Batman, along with Nightwing and Red Robin, had put a stop to a gang fight.
He thinks of how tired Bruce must be, and so as he's cleaning the dog cages gets an idea. He finishes his work for the day, goes to his house, and opens his miniature portal into the ghost zone to buy some teas and soap Baths.
The ghost zone products have an amazing effect on humans to help heal them faster thanks to the pure ectoplasm. He puts together a gift basket for everyone in the Wayne family- including the butler- and sends them to Wayne Manor through a ghost vulture.
He just wanted to thank them for all their hard work to keep him and the city safe. Mody Dick, knows he would have appreciated it when he was still acting as Phantom back in Amity Park.
He includes thank you letters each, including specific examples of how they have help the city both in and out of costume.
Danny then goes to his next lecture class with a pat on his shoulder. He feels so good about it, he decides to send them every other week.
Across the city, the Wayne are panicking that someone just sent them all a basket with a very vague threat of exposing their identities. They scramble to find the person who found out, but with no leads or evidence, they can only pray that whoever found them out wouldn't hurt their loved ones.
The personal threats only made them more uneasy. Are they being followed? How close have they gotten to have such details?
Tim Drake is determined to find the person responsible.
Jason is the only one who tries the basket. Fuck it. He had a bad week, okay, and it's nice to have a thank you for some of the damn work he puts in, because it sucks, and definitely sucked hard this week. He deserves a fucking gift basket, and now he has one, and he's gonna take a goddamn bath with one of these weird little goddamn fizzy things.
The bath is amazing.
The pits quiet down. His constant low grade headache from getting his damn skull bashed in with a crowbar is finally gone. He is a puddle. A Jason-shaped puddle of goo in a bath of happy floating not-pain. It's the best thing that has ever happened to him.
So if the others aren't gonna use their baskets, he's stealing their stuff. The pits haven't been this quiet before- ever. And of course he's backing Tim's quest to find the guy- Jason owes *him* a gift basket.
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adding a blank emoji to my discord server might be the best thing to ever happen to text communication. asynchronous digital equivalent of hanging out in a room with your friends in silence. let's all nothing together
i’ve warmed up significantly towards the concept of small talk ever since i learned that its sole purpose is to make friendly noises.
as long as you smile and nod, people are satisfied. it’s just to show that you are nice and there with good intentions. we’re small in a big world and have to rely on other people to be decent to us. so we do our little human dance to each other to say, “i’m not here to hurt you. here’s something we have in common, like the weather or sports or itchy sweaters, so we both know we’re on the same team. we both agree on a basic fact, like that it is rainy or that being itchy is uncomfortable, and this proves we can get along. i’m being light-hearted and non-threatening right now.”
small talk isn’t to get to know a person. it’s just a greeting to affirm you’re buddies in the universe.
i am motivated by wanting the other person to know i am friendly, so i have gotten pretty decent at small talk when i used to hate it.
B-17 bomber is riddled with German anti-aircraft fire but miraculously survives. Later they discover the explosive shells were all inert; sabotaged by Nazi slaves working in armament factories.
Inside one empty shell is a written note: it's all we can do for you now.
The most important part of all this is that these small acts of bravery and noncompliance cannot be known as long as the enemy still stands, and might never be known. Just because it doesn’t seem like anyone is doing anything doesn’t mean it’s true. The best malicious compliance or subtle sabotage is the one that’s never detected, but makes ravages nonetheless.
“There is a cyborg hierarchy. They like us best with bionic arms and legs. They like us Deaf with hearing aids, though they prefer cochlear implants. It would be an affront to ask the Hearing to learn sign language. Instead they wish for us to lose our language, abandon our culture, and consider ourselves cured. They like exoskeletons, which none of us use. They don’t count as cyborgs those of us who wear pacemakers or go to dialysis. Nor do they count those of us kept alive by machines, those of us made ambulatory by wheelchairs, those of us on biologics or antidepressants. They want us shiny and metallic and in their image.”
― Alice Wong, Disability Visibility: First-Person Stories from the Twenty-first Century
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