Someone Literally Named An Asteroid After Jean Valjean Are You Fucking Kidding Me

My Cat: *casually plucks a passing mosquito out of the air with her paw without looking or even bothering to stand up*

Also My Cat: *walks directly into a wall*

When I'm feeling triggered by my body, but I don't have the energy to fully explain that to my significant other

Flower shop AU

Person A owns a flower shop and person B comes storming in one day, slaps 20 bucks on the counter and says “How do I passive-aggressively say fuck you in flower?”

Cats Who Have No Intention Of Letting You Read Your Book

"Spoiler alert: the main character dies. Now gimme some tuna."

(photos via the dodo)

Hi, I’m a writer. My hobbies include not writing. 

I make no apologies for how I chose to repair what you broke.

Meredith Grey  - Grey’s Anatomy S2 E24 “Damage Case” (via mutilatedsoul)

Power comes with responsibility. The more power a character has, the more they are defined and confined by it. The fewer choices they will have. The easier it is for their actions to have massive, widespread unintended consequences continuously rippling outward. When they make a mistake, they will hurt more people than just themselves. More you have, the more cautious you have to be. The more you have to give up, the more you have to sacrifice, because circumstances outside of your control have decided you will not be like other men/women. That’s just a fact of life. You can say “But I don’t want it”. Well, tough. Suck it up. Deal with it or deal with the consequences.

Michi of howtofightwrite, “Would it be cliche or a poor choice…”

As usual, the mods of howtofightwrite nail the importance of power in character development to the effing wall, paint a gd dartboard on it, and proceed to stick only bullseyes. Hats off to them. 

(via writeworld)

Hey, I'm writing a fight scene at a fancy restaurant. If my character had a choice of weapon between grabbing a fork or a butter knife (rounded point), which should they choose?

The fork.

It has pointy ends and it’s better for stabbing.

However, in a fight scene at a restaurant, it’s worth remembering all the other available pieces that will allow a character to smoothly transition between weapons. Most of the time, thought stops at the cutlery but a restaurant is full of makeshift weapons that will aid the characters in their fight if they’re clever enough to see them.

Plates.

Heavy duty, ceramic plates are good for bashing, throwing if necessary. It’s usually a stage gag, but it works really well.

Wine. Water. Coffee.

Hot soup also works. Grab it off the table, throw it in their eyes to blind them to create opportunity for an attack.

Wine Bottles

If left at the table, the solid glass of the wine bottle can be useful for hitting. It’s not as heavy duty as a Jack Daniel’s bottle, but it’ll get the job done. This is even more true if the wine bottle has not yet been uncorked and is still full. Then, it functions as a makeshift club holding up against a great deal more abuse than an empty wine bottle which will break apart in your hands.

Chairs.

When dealing with multiple opponents, but if they’re light enough to be picked up and wielded then the chair’s legs can be used to deflect attackers and maintain distance while backing toward an exit.

If they are sitting at the table, a good basic combination would be:

-grab wine glass, throw wine into attackers face

-grab hold of their wrist, take fork, stab hand

-pick up plate, smash plate into face

-if it survives then possibly edge into throat or sharpened edge of now broken ceramic.

-exit hastily if enemy is no longer capable of fighting to avoid confrontation with local law enforcement.

Restaurants really are full of weapons, plenty of weapons, including many objects that the average person won’t regard as a weapon. You just have to sit down, adjust your perspective, think about it, and start getting creative.

This is all just in the main dining area, long before we move to even better areas like the food preparation and the kitchen. Remember, a lit cigarette can be a weapon. It’s all about how you think and how rough you’re willing to get.

The Ambush vs. The Preparation

Another thing to consider is whether or not this scene is planned out in advance by the characters rather than it being spur of the moment (such as them being ambushed or suddenly decide to attack). A character who is preparing to make their move can set themselves up with better options than a character who has to hit the “go!” button.

They can:

If there is a bar, they might order hot alcohol like a hot tottie which is a hot mixture of water, lemon juice, whiskey, and honey. The alcohol will burn when thrown into the face, the honey (or any kind of sugar) will ensure it sticks thus prolonging the burning. This is surprising thick for a beverage. Excellent for creating openings or tying up one attacker while moving in on their friend. (This is not an approach for kindly characters.)

Order any kind of red meat or food type that will ensure they have a steak knife. They may have come without weapons or been forced to leave their weapons at the door, but they can have some of them back with clever dinner pick.

-Michi

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What is a nice guy? 

 I have met many, or so I was told. They sat across from me on first dates, deeply sniffing a wine and commenting on the forenotes of fruitiness before asking if I “read much?” They tell stories about their love of Kafka; pausing only to look at me with this sad little knowing smile. To a child, they tell me much about the books I have already read. They explain words I learned and used well before them. When I try to interupt, to explain that, yes, I read, and as a matter of fact Kafka is right next to Dante on my bedside, I am talked down. Talked over. 

 The nice men don’t understand why being nice isn’t working. Women, I guess, are strange creatures to them. When we are approached on the subway and told we are pretty; when we only flash quiet tight smiles, it is an affront. They were only trying to be nice, it’s not their fault that our bodies are ships that others want to pirate. We should know by the smell of your rose lips that nice men - they exist. It is my fault for being so goddamn difficult. Nice men decide for me it is their duty to inform me of my physical accommodation to their pleasure. That compliments have never come as knives, a cage to suffocate the bird in. That because they used “pretty” and not “hot,” We should be sure that we are safe, that nice men only want us to hear what’s best for us. We’ll miss it when we’re older. Nice men are doing us a favor, until we don’t smile for them. Then they are nice men telling us we are bitches, sluts. 

 The nice men are only trying to help. Women won’t take it, because we are all dumb wild animals bumping our blind eyes against “jerks” who don’t know what we really need. We don’t even know what we really need. What we need is a nice guy, and the nice men are there for that; to force her into situations where she stands to lose a close friend again because he couldn’t stop seeing her as a sex object. She doesn’t know it, but she needs him. Nice men tell me a lot about myself; without my mouth ever opening. Nice men tell me I’m too stupid for my own good and need to be explained every little thing, that I don’t know if I’m worthy until I cause attraction, that I can’t even make my own sexual decisions. 

 Nice men, I am told, are not like other men. Nice men sometimes even call themselves feminists and then write poems about how hard it is to be a male feminist. Nice men are artists with their dark disney princesses, are pleasantly amused by the efforts of queer girls, offer shading advice to someone with headphones in. Nice men tell you while you’re buying roof tiles to go get your boyfriend. Nice men don’t understand why we flinch when the label “nice guy” explodes in our faces. 

 We are silent in all of this, an active object that they fondle with their meaty mitts. They assume our little chickadee brains can’t conquer poetry. They teach without being asked for a lesson. They insert their opinion. They know better than we do, about our bodies, about what is best for us. We are a curious thing to them, that does not bend, that talks back on other frequencies, says silly girly things like “I read,” “Of course I knew that,” “I saved a life once,” “I don’t feel comfortable with a strange man approaching me,” “I am able of knowing who I should be dating,” “I am a human and I have my own life, am not hive mind, have my own experiences and values and feelings and you should stop assuming things about me.“ 

 Who told the nice men they are nice? What did they do to deserve that label? Was it be a decent person to that poor underclass of women? Did you deign to find them human? What does a nice man do that is nice besides tell me he is nice? What do the nice guys do? Did they ask us if we felt comfortable with the type of nice they offer? Did they ask us how to be nice or did they just all talk in one big group until some rules appeared, some “nice guy” guide. Is there a ceremony where nice girls and nice guys all sit around while the nice men sip wine and talk about how nice it is to be nice, did you know they once held a door and didn’t spit on her? The whole time us silly girls with our silly wildflower wilting hearts, we melt as these nice men glisten. 

Maybe the reason they think they are nice men is because they don’t ever stop to listen.