Nonnie! This headcanon/not!fic got long! I guess Peter was feeling inspired? Hope you enjoy!
Peter has never been a fan of camping or spending time in
the outdoors unless said outdoors included a pool and a colorful cocktail in
his hand. The fact that he has committed to spending months in the fucking
rainforest is starting to make him question his sanity. In addition, the
presence of seventeen strangers not to mention the dozen crew members is
already proving to be more annoying than expected. It’s all Talia’s fault, of
course. She was on the third season of this stupid program, and she made it to
the top five. The family had been watching the current season during
Thanksgiving, and Peter had been commenting on the stupidity of the players
when she’d dared to throw down the gauntlet. “As if you could ever do any
better, Peter” were the nine little words that led to him conducting a producer
he met during Talia’s stint on the show and acquiring a place of his own for
the newest season.
@indigopersei is the french language just always on the verge of getting someone accused of assault or..?
my friend, if only you knew
It’s a very dangerous language to learn
Here’s an interesting thing about French! Everything needs to have an article in front of it. That’s why it’s “la chat” as opposed to just “chat”. So, for instance, you could say la fille for the girl, or jeune fille for young girl, but you can’t just say fille, because that means you are calling her a sex worker in a derogatory way.
The moral of the story is, if you want to make something rude in French, just take out the article in front of it. Yes, this works for nearly. every. word.
Every year. Every year there’s that kid who forgets that you can’t translate “I am excited” to “Je suis excitée”. And every year Monsieur Jordan has to slam the brakes before that kid can finish his sentence and then tactfully ask him not to announce to the class that he is horny.
“is the french language always on the verge” oh buddy, oh pal, i am so happy to break this news to you:
but what if a vampire drank the blood of someone who was anemic like would they be seriously grossed out
“what the fuck is this”
“i have anemia”
“can you take something for that you should probably take something for that this shit is nasty to drink let alone have running through your body i’m setting up a doctor’s appointment for you”
“dude really you don’t have to just leave what the fu—”
“you disgust me here take these iron supplements”
“where did you even get th—”
“shut up and take your pills and dont forget your vitamin D”
“i’m going to check up on you weekly to make sure you’re taking them”
“that’s not necessary”
“maybe we should work on a dietary plan with foods rich in iron and other things for you”
“do you get this involved with all of your meals”
VAMPIREDUDE: did u get the cookbook i orderd 4 u
ME: Oh my god, first of all stop using text speak, you told me you were 278, second how did you know where I LIVED, third yes I got it.
VAMPIREDUDE: heard onions were good 4 blood, eat lots
ME: So you can have a tasty meal? I guess you’d rather I stay away from garlic, huh.
VAMPIREDUDE: UR being v rude I just got u a present!!!
ME: THE COOKBOOK IS CALLED “HOW TO TASTE DELICIOUS,” I AM CALLING THE COPS
concept: an alien race horrified by the idea of clothes
– You… you manifacture artificial skin? That you don over your own bodies? How utterly repulsive!!
-And instead of being rightfully ashamed of this practice you… pride yourselves on it?? You have performances dedicated to displaying weird varieties of it? You hold galas that are – for lack of a better term – ‘thinly veiled’ excuses for just such a performance?
-You try them on in specific stores and sometimes don’t buy them? YOU LEND THEM TO YOUR FRIENDS? You lend your weird fake skin to your friends???!!?
– What do you MEAN you have specifically designated sleep skin???
– An alien being forced to wear warm clothes because of the weather and begrudgingly accepting that it’s a pretty clever way of adapting to this crazy planet, THEY GUESS.
– Rebelling alien youths putting on sweaters to the absolute horror of their parents. So edgy.
Some of you are reblogging because you think its funny that programmers would talk to ducks. I’m reblogging because I think its funny picturing a programmer explaining their code, realizing what they did when they explain the bad code, then grabbing the strangling the duck while yelling “WHY WAS THE FIX THAT SIMPLE!? AM I GOING BLIND!”
AS A PROGRAMMER I CAN TELL YOU THAT THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT YOU FUCKING DO WE HAD TO BAN THE DUCKS FROM MY CLASSES BECAUSE EVERYONE WOULD FLIP THE DUCK OR THROW IT AT A WALL OR SOMETHING WHEN THEY FIGURED OUT THE PROBLEM IN THEIR CODE
so that’s the function of a rubber duck
^^^^^^^^^^^^^
I work at a startup and part of the onboarding package you get when you first start working here now includes a rubber duck. We also have a bigger version of the duck for the extra hard problems. Sometimes one duck doesn’t cut it and you need to borrow your neighbors to get more ducks on the problem. One time we couldn’t figure out why something wasn’t working right so we assembled the counsel of ducks and by the grace of the Duck Gods were we able to finally come to a solution. These ducks have saved many lives and should be respected for the heroes they are.
I use this for writing, actually. Explain what I’m doing and what I want to do and the different ways i can get to point B from A, as well as the different problems, amazingly working them out as I explain why I could or couldn’t the different things. I love the Rubber Duck theory.
Former programmer, can confirm. We didn’t have a duck in our office so our other programmer, who I shared a space with, used me as a duck proxy. (For the explaining, not the throwing.)
There was more than one day where I’d casually hear “Hey can you be a duck for a minute?”
so my campus is currently hosting an ENORMOUS conference of scholars who study medieval history. they’ve been completely flooding the tiny cafe where I work and drinking our coffee faster than we can make it, but the good news is that they provide some PRIME people watching, including:
the fact that all of their name tags include pronouns so that I won’t feel bad assuming anyone’s gender in this post
the woman RANTING about one of her colleagues on the following grounds: “he thinks he understands it from some class he took in 1996! FUCK OFF, TOM.”
the man who was loudly and earnestly discussing the “influence of the Harry Potter fandom on our modern political discourse” while he got a soda
before he was out the door he’d switched topics to his preferred methods for teaching students about elves
the two nice extremely polite young British lads who I could not tell apart to save my life. their name tags indicated that they were apparently not twins, but cloning does not seem impossible.
the sheer number of people graciously volunteering to buy lunch for people they’ve just met
an unexpected number of very handsome soft butch women involved in medieval studies. I am bisexual and weak.
the guy in the flannel shirt who had the coldest, softest, most feminine hands I’ve ever encountered. I fell in love with him for a good 60 seconds. I am bisexual and weak.
people who aren’t from America being cheerfully confused by our money, including my favorite, a Canadian woman who told me “I’m slow with American money because it’s all the same color.”
I’ve learned that people who aren’t going to be in the country for more than a few days don’t give a SHIT about their change and will toss all of it in the take a penny/leave a penny jar. I collected so many quarters, y’all.
also a nice British woman called it the penny pot, which is the cutest shit I’ve ever heard and absolutely its new name.
just in general the EXTREMELY good grace and patience with which everyone accepted that we only have 2 cashiers and that it takes about seven minutes to make more coffee.
SEVERAL times after I apologized for the coffee wait (because this is customer service and minor inconveniences mean we have to grovel) the response was ‘lmao no worries this just means I get a fresh pot’
a woman approached me to day with a fucking enamel pin of that old illustration of a nun gathering dicks from a tree (you know the one) and I said immediately “oh my god, is that a pin of the penis tree?” and she looked stoked and said “yes it is the penis tree! you’re only the second person to recognize it!” what kind of boring ass medieval scholars has she been hanging with???? she was probably so fucking excited to finally have company where she could wear that pin and nobody said anything??? rude.
you know, this one
I have more:
every single person who said “cheers” when I gave them their change.
the painfully hip young man who was dressed entirely in standard academic business casual EXCEPT FOR his shiny silver doc martens.
me: “you boots are amazing.”
him: “!!!! thank you!”
the man who walked in, spotted the selection of high octane energy drinks, and nearly cried with relief. when he came to the register to pay for what was probably enough caffeine to kill a horse he looked me dead in the eye and said cheerfully “thanks, I’m jet lagged as shit and I can’t be expected to function right now.”
the dude who overheard my friend Austin listening to Florence and the Machine, started chatting with him about it, and asked him out on a date
I sold a hot dog to An Actual Nun
You know Florence’s Mum is a renaissance scholar with a specialty in fashion/material goods history, yes? Evelyn Welch, superstar.
I didn’t know that, but it explains a lot about Florence’s style and I’m very happy I know it now
In other news, I met a Medieval Recreationalist today. Or Re-Creationist? I can’t remember now that I’ve thought of that. God, I hope she said recreationalist.
Anyway, we chatted about spinning and looms, only mildly interrupting the orientation class I was in.
Queer Fiction Writer 