She woke up like she did every day: slowly pulling her motorcycle helmet off, then shaking her head slowly back and forth to reveal a long, blonde ponytail. Everyone gasped. “That’s right,” she said, kicking the winning football goal before sliding into a sheer, sexy camisole under a blazer and playing as hard as she worked, “I’ve been a girl this whole time.” One of the guys, the real sexy one, shook his head in slow motion, as if to say “wh-wh-wh-whaaat?” You know the kind. His mouth was kind of open while he did it. He was totally blown away.
She walked off the field, and she knew everyone was looking at her butt, and she totally loved it. “Sorry, boys,” she called out over her super-sexy shoulder. She always called men boys, because she knew what gender was. Now she was carrying a briefcase and wearing a pencil skirt and sex glasses. She was at law.
“Your Honor,” she said, and the Honor paid attention, “I’d like to win this case,” and she totally did, she totally beat that busted-looking male lawyer who had the mushy face and wore suits that didn’t fit. She gave a little fist-pump, because even though she’s tough, she’s still relatable. “Girl power,” she said, high-fiving her curly-haired friend, who had just appeared behind her.
“Girl, you need a drink,” her curly-haired friend said, “and I need a man.” She laughed because her curly-haired friend didn’t really get it yet, but she was getting there…
The English “please” is short for “if you please,” “if it pleases you to do this” — it is the same in most European languages (French si il vous plait, Spanish por favor). Its literal meaning is “you are under no obligation to do this.” “Hand me the salt. Not that I am saying that you have to!” This is not true; there is a social obligation, and it would be almost impossible not to comply. But etiquette largely consists of the exchange of polite fictions (to use less polite language, lies). When you ask someone to pass the salt, you are also giving them an order; by attaching the word “please,” you are saying that it is not an order. But, in fact, it is.
In English, “thank you” derives from “think,” it originally meant, “I will remember what you did for me” — which is usually not true either — but in other languages (the Portuguese obrigado is a good example) the standard term follows the form of the English “much obliged” — it actually does mean “I am in your debt.” The French merci is even more graphic: it derives from “mercy,” as in begging for mercy; by saying it you are symbolically placing yourself in your benefactor’s power — since a debtor is, after all, a criminal. Saying “you’re welcome,” or “it’s nothing” (French de rien, Spanish de nada) — the latter has at least the advantage of often being literally true — is a way of reassuring the one to whom one has passed the salt that you are not actually inscribing a debit in your imaginary moral account book. So is saying “my pleasure” — you are saying, “No, actually, it’s a credit, not a debit — you did me a favor because in asking me to pass the salt, you gave me the opportunity to do something I found rewarding in itself!
oh god don’t look at me don’t even fucking look at me
inspired by this utterly gorgeous sketch by tumblr user endrae
The first time they fuck in an actual bed, Martin’s the one who breaks first.
"Meetings," he says. He’s yanking on his clothes with a good deal less grace than with which he’d removed them, discomfort screaming from every line in his body. "Far too many of them, and never with people I actually want to talk to. You know how it is."
Daud does, in fact, know how it is. Corvo trusts Martin less but seems to like punishing Daud more, and in his capacity as Royal Spymaster Daud’s had to sit through a truly agonizing number of meetings with people he loathes in the name of treaties and alliances and digging up secrets for the Isle’s newest little Empress. He sincerely doubts Martin’s meetings are worse than his, but if Corvo’s leash on the Royal Spymaster is tight, then the one around the High Overseer’s neck is strangling. At least Daud has the option to leave.
"Mm," Daud says. He reaches for the most recent revisions of the Morley treaty, which are long and dense enough that he’s taken to lugging them around in the vague hope he’ll have the opportunity to beat someone over the head with it. "Try not to fall asleep this time. I hear they put men in the stocks for things like that."
Martin shoots him a withering look, and when Daud merely smirks he turns on his heel and stalks out of the room. The moment he’s gone, Daud’s smirk widens into an actual smile. He adds a mental hashmark to his score, and settles in for the to the serious business of intra-Isle whale trade regulations.
You cannot catch me, cannot hold me
You cannot stop, much less control me
When it rains, it pours
When the floodgates open, brace your shores
That pressure don’t care when it breaks your doors
Say it’s all you can take, better take some more
GIVEAWAY !! the last of my fandom plushies… i held on to these so long even though i wasn’t happy with their proportions! they’ve got magnets in their hands :) 2 strange girlz
- only reblogs count & only reblog once
- i’ll send them anywhere
- if you’re under 18 please make sure you have permission from your parent and/or guardian tree wolf
- giveaway ends dec. 26, 2013. 2013. 2013. do you see that date. 2013.
warmups that are quickly turning into procrastination oK GONNA WORK FOR REAL
Since it’s impossible to view this as one whole picture on tumblr, I decided to try and make one of those split-up versions. I did my best ok.