Jan. 30th, 2018

Scar Wars

Jan. 30th, 2018 02:24 am
dragonlady7: self-portrait but it's mostly the DSLR in my hands in the mirror (Default)
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thebyrchentwigges:

lioness–hart:

once-a-polecat:

d–t:

buckykingofmemes:

Okay friends, I’m feeling uninspired when answering asks for Bucky stories–many of which draw from my real-life mistakes. So I’m asking that you reblog this post and add to it the the funniest way you (or someone you know) has been injured. It doesn’t have to be a serious injury–I’m looking for humor here! Anything from stubbing your toe in the dark (I broke three toes) to sledding accidents (my brother broke his arm). I may borrow bits and pieces of your stories in bucky-tales someday, so please note if you’d rather I not do that (and I’ll try to tag anyone I’m inspired by when I post.) If nothing else, this should be good fun.

Let the scar wars begin! 

-Mod Hell

tripped over a waffle block on my first day of pre-k, landed face first on a lego.

Had to get three stitches in my eyebrow and I still have the scar from it.

This was before super magic dissolving stitches were a thing and I had to go in to the hospital to get them out after the hurricane came through and obliterated everything, so my stitches were taken out by flashlight.

I dropped a Costco sized jar of peanut butter on my foot when I was 6 and fractured my toe.

Got headbutted by a pony when I was 9. Landed on a goose. Geese bite hard and I’ve got the scar on my arm to prove it.

When I was 15, my father, a medical researcher, was between jobs. He stored a lot of lab equipment in our basement. I tripped over a laser apparatus with sharp metal edges, gashed my leg severely. Had a great time all summer answering “what happened to your leg” with “IT WAS A LASER!”

There’s a scar next to my eye from running into a slide on the playground (we were playing tag, and I tried to duck under it, and didn’t duck far enough). It’s not a very noticeable scar, and it’s not a particularly funny story, but the story of the mental scarring that went along with it is sort of funny. It took place at a park with a beach, and I was given first-aid by a very busty young woman in a bathing suit that, as she bent to tend me, I could see straight down the front of, and she didn’t realize this, and didn’t understand why i kept trying to close my eyes or turn my head away as she attempted to clean the pretty serious cut (I should’ve had stitches). I was too shy to tell her why I didn’t really want to look straight ahead even though I did want to be cooperative. I was like, seven or eight, and there was a lot of… uhhh, her, and I just did not know where to look. It remains pretty vivid in my memory. 

I’ve always sort of meant to use that in a story and I don’t know if I ever will, so. If you can make it funny instead of creepy, it’s free to a good home. 
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mashamorevna:

“I thought being famous was going to be fun. I was loved, for a minute. Then I was hated, and I was just a punch line. It was like being abused all over, again. Only this time, it was by you. All you. You’re all my attackers, too.” - I, Tonya (2017) 
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I don’t know what this button on my car radio is supposed to do but I read it to myself as “Party Cat” every time and why don’t all cars have a Party Cat button? Also why doesn’t this button do anything? Life is just all disappointments.
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My absolutely favorite thing when it comes to poe/holdo is that—once upon a time, Holdo was the beautiful hotshot flyboy taking too many risks, growing up on tales of the heedless, headless bravery of the Rebellion. She wasn’t so much younger than Leia when the Senator took her aside and said, stop, said, this is peace, we don’t need martyrs, said, you are smarter than this in a tone that was equal parts compliment and chastisement. (Holdo was still bleeding from her lower lip, her gaze blurry from emerging too-suddenly from hyperspace. She was sure her father had somehow asked Leia Organa to talk to her, talk down the Gatalentan tea-baron’s daughter from joining the New Republican Navy. But Leia was beautiful and her eyes were dark, and Amilyn had nodded.

Okay, she’d said, dazedly, and joined the Navy anyway.) 

But she’s not twenty and wild when she looks at Poe, and all she can see is how dangerous that is, all her mistakes written in future tense for him. Leia has told her, has laid it all out—her plans for the Resistance, with Poe Dameron at its head, the burning-bright spark of the thing, if only he could learn to think outside himself and the awful price exacted by heroism.

I’m not a very good teacher, Amilyn whispers, kissing Leia’s pale forehead. Leia does not stir, and Holdo swallows.

She does like him. That’s the worst part, watching him quietly rally the others around him, speaking words of power and self-governance, heroism, his eyes flashing. He is so beautiful and burning, and Amilyn hasn’t been that way in at least a decade. She wishes she had a better way to say, that will only get you trouble, you’ll burn out trying to set the galaxy on fire. The galaxy is wet with blood, and doesn’t notice misery. Amilyn wears lavender because that’s the color of the flower that grows over graves; Gatalentan society believes it’s the symbol of mourning, and death.

She’s watched so many sentients die.

She’ll give him credit, he corners her in her rooms—the General’s rooms—before he tries the bridge. He tries to corner her up against a wall, though he’s shorter in stature than she is and more desperate, lashing out. 

Amilyn wonders, as he shoves her against the durasteel, what it would like to be the object of Commander—Captain Poe Dameron’s loyalty. A huge, all-encompassing and burning thing, she suspects, but with unexpected edges. Absolutes. Flyboys like—Dameron, like Holdo, and like Han Solo before the both of them had principles, unexpectedly. No wonder Leia liked it so much.

She wonders if she would have given into Dameron and his charms, in the way she knows Leia hasn’t. She wonders if she would have let him spend all that reckless love and protectiveness on her, instead of Leia, who was spoken for many times over by flyboys brighter and wilder than Holdo or Dameron. Maybe they could have sought comfort in on another, the way Commander Antilles got once, when he took Holdo out for drinks in thanks for being his course assistant and drank too much. He’d started talking about Skywalker, about missed chances—and she’d been young, but she’d gotten into a grav-cab with him, and he’d kissed her, chastely, longingly, on the mouth. It had been mostly sad, not erotic at all, and he’d said, I’m sorry. You just make me think of him.

They could have had that too, Poe and Amilyn—and Leia, invisible and sad between them.

….well. They’ll never know, will they? 

(She didn’t wear the lavender lipstick she usually does, with this outfit. She thinks about that, when Dameron is on the bridge, and then the docking bay, burning and talking about mutiny, about treason. 

She pictures the faint press of her purple mouth, to his jaw. The mark it would leave behind. She thinks, I wish I was a better teacher.)
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meanderings0ul replied to your photo “I don’t know what this button on my car radio is supposed to do but I…”

I too immediately read ‘party cat’

thank u for validating me

ineptshieldmaid replied to your photo “I don’t know what this button on my car radio is supposed to do but I…”

Oh, I read it as 'pity cat’. POOR CAT.

so did my dude’s sister on facebook. her theory is that it’s a button you push and the car begins to comfort your poor cat, who does not want to be in the car. this is a reasonable thought except that i can’t imagine anything that would comfort my poor cat, who hates the car more than she hates most things, and she hates a lot of things. 

it was kind of funny when i read her comment because i’d already skimmed this one and was like wait who said that. the problems of cross-platform posting. 

unicornduke replied to your photo “I don’t know what this button on my car radio is supposed to do but I…”

my parents car has a party button and as far as I can tell it just increases the volume and ups the bass. weird as hell

Here is an article that explains that older Toyota 4Runners have “Party” buttons to up the bass and send the volume to the rear of the car. You are welcome. (No, it does not explain why.)
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