Stuff like this is also a great test to see if the kid is actually seriously injured! Because with how much some kids cry over tiny bumps and scrapes, it can be hard to tell. But if you slap a Band-Aid on it or give them a cup of water or a piece of candy and they stop crying, they’re fine. If they keep crying despite whatever little placebo or distraction you’ve given them, you might wanna look a little closer at that injury or seek medical attention.
With my two’s class we ask them “more hurt or more scary?” It takes a bit of practice but after a few times they can answer without more prompting. More scary gets a hug and more hurt gets a look over.
That last one is so important because it validates the child’s feelings and tells them it’s okay to have these feelings and lets them learn how to deal with them, rather than just distracting them from them. I also helps teach the child to both communicate their feelings more readily and communicate when they’re hurt more clearly. All really important skills for a child to develop young.
academic dishonesty is not something you can spin as moral lol i do not want to share a career field let alone a social sphere with a bunch of chatgpt using ass bitches
“average person eats 3 spiders a year” factoid actualy just statistical error. average person eats 0 spiders per year. Spiders Georg, who lives in cave & eats over 10,000 each day, is an outlier adn should not have been counted
Being lost in the delta quadrant with low amounts of resources and replicator credits causes some issues on board. The most suddenly pressing concern is everyone’s uniforms.
Most of them have run washing machines before, of course. A couple here and there, specifically the Maquis members, have hand washed. But almost all of them are very, very used to being able to replicate new uniforms when one gets damaged, and now, you’re kinda stuck with what you have. Everyone has to wash their uniforms, and more importantly, repair their uniforms.
Problem is, basically no one on board knows how to hand sew. Some of the Maquis members know how to fix stuff in a pinch, and a couple who are into old crafts do, but basically no one has. With one notable exception, of course.
Suddenly, home ec classes are being held. Tuvok is the main instructor. Neelix is, oftentimes, his assistant, generally because they’re held in the mess hall.
They both become the most dreaded part of everyone’s week, having their little stitch lines scrutinized by one and then complimented by the other. There’s tutorials on everything from how to patch up your uniforms to how to hand wash and properly dry them (Chakotay takes the place of Neelix for this one) to minor repairs on material goods in their quarters. Tuvok has many people come up to him over the course of their trip, holding out a beloved item from home in need of repair, and he takes the time to show them how to fix it.
It reminds him of his children. It reminds him of home, getting his hands busy again. It’s annoying dealing with everyone, it’s fulfilling in a way he hasn’t had in a while, and it ends up building rapport with the crew, so Janeway never lets it die out, and gives him a smile in return to every single unimpressed stare he sends her upon seeing another fully registered class on his schedule.
not written from an indigenous perspective per s but i really liked this article (‘It’s All an Indian Burial Ground’: Folk Horror Cinema’s Reckoning with Colonial Violence)
you may have found this before, although i didn't see anyone mention it in the notes, but a glossary of haunting by eve tuck and c. ree is available for free, a piece by two indigenous scholars about american horror and colonization. i have come back to it frequently since the first time i read it.
Everyone who says not to set your stove clock or microwave clock because you won't use them and don't look at them anyway is lying.
Set them.
Because sometimes, you will come come from a week away when no one was in your home, and see the stove and microwave clocks blinking and go, "Oh shit, the power went out while I was gone, even though it's clearly back, which means every single thing in my fridge and freezer might have gotten room temperature and refrozen, and will give me food poisoning."
And it will be the only indication whatsoever not to eat it.
Anyway, just got back from the grocery store, but at least I don't have botulism.
I know this is a 'better safe than sorry' kind of scenario, but if you like me live in a place where power often goes off for a few minutes due to power grid failures in summer with all the A/C units going in the neighborhood, it's not going to help.
Put a glass full of water in the freezer. I use a shot glass to save space. Once the water is frozen, put a coin on top.
If when you're back the coin is under the ice, you know your shit has defrosted and should be thrown out.
Okay. This was written for the @aromanceforthedragonages gift exchange for @threerattsinatrenchcoat. First of all, Special thanks to @foofyschmoofer for Beta-ing for me! Second, I know far too much about repeating crossbows now, and third, every single word was very deliberate to get the point across. Having one of the participants in these shenanigans not alive was a unique challenge and I'm happy to say I can add that to my smut writing bucket list and immediately cross it off :D. Also on AO3 if you prefer...
Varric takes time out of his busy schedule to give Bianca some much needed maintenance…
Varric hummed Bianca’s Song to himself as he puttered around his room, collecting a small length of cord, several bolts, four jars of varying size and a few tools, which to the untrained eye was just a bunch of junk, but to those closest to him, it was Bianca’s maintenance day. Every four weeks, like clockwork, he set aside a day just to pamper his best girl and give her his undivided attention—if he would devote the same energy and diligence to his writing, his publisher would be ecstatic. Hawke had walked in on them once upon a time and had immediately peeled out of the room, not wanting to interrupt such an…intimate moment—though that hadn’t stopped them from needling him about it every chance they got afterwards; constantly asking if they should leave him and Bianca alone. He didn’t see what the problem was; so what if he enjoyed maintaining her? Bianca was his baby, and he wanted to keep her in pristine condition, particularly after the cocking ring misalignment incident back in Kirkwall. His embarrassment that Sebastian had noticed it before he did, would not be replicated ever again.
Though Choir Boy was a fellow archer, so maybe he could cut himself a little slack—just not where Bianca’s maintenance was concerned. Especially since she’d been slow to fire in the field and he’d had a minor panic attack thinking his baby was done for—but then he noticed the worn string and dried rail lube. He really shouldn’t be surprised how often he fired her in the midst of the world saving endeavors he embarked upon on the regular, still joking that he was too old for this shit, and yet he did it anyways. And now Bianca needed a little tender love and care—she wasn’t as young and new as she once was. He ran his hand lovingly over every inch of the wood of her body, fingers tripping over a few deep scars, the reignited memories of all they’d been through together bringing a smile to his face as he made sure every nut and bolt was tight.
“That’s my girl. Nice and tight.” He purred, easing her into the crossbow press, to hold her arms and keep her still so he could expose the old worn string that needed replacing to his gaze. “Let’s get you ready for me.”
At this point it was second nature to remove the frayed cord and replace it and he finished quickly, fitting a brand new one in place and giving it a playful tug before picking up one of the small jars. He dipped his fingers into the substance within, massaging the wax over the pliant and willing new cord with his palm before replacing the serving as well. He always preferred a hands-on method to using a cloth because he liked to feel how Bianca responded to his touch and use that as a guide. The second bottle held a clear, odorless oil which he dipped a small pipette into, collecting a small amount, and placing a few drops of the rail lube very carefully so as not to get it on the rest of her body, and rubbing it in onto her rail in slow, even circles with his thumb.
Varric grinned at the sight of her glistening for him. “Look at you. Just beautiful.”
When he was sufficiently satisfied at how slick her track was, he moved to fill her bolt chamber with more arrows, having fired more than expected in the last fight. One hand closed around the cylinder, the other holding Bianca steady as he gave it a firm tug but the bolt chamber didn’t want to release, almost like she didn’t want to take a new load inside her. Varric clicked his tongue in dismay, tapping the side of the chamber with the head of a small hammer, hoping to loosen it enough to remove and oil it so it would slide back in smoothly.
“Naughty girl. Open up,” he muttered, shaking his head at her stubbornness and turning the crank on the crossbow press to tighten the restraints holding her in place.
Two fingers plunged into the cylinder, curling against her inner wall to strengthen his grip, tugging firmly enough he felt her relax and come apart under his touch. Sometimes he just had to show her who was in charge. He collected a handful of bolts and released them into the chamber, filling her. Varric chuckled and patted Bianca affectionately, oiling her up first—taking special care of all four arms—and then the cylinder, sliding it into place and pumping it back and forth a couple times to make sure it was lubed up correctly before flicking several latches and locking it back into place. She felt perfect, every part of her responding to his touch and he breathed a sigh of relief—she’d just been used too much lately and was feeling neglected.
“Just like that. You took that so well,” he cooed, teasing fingers stroking over her to rub the rest of her down with the wood polish.
All that was left was to double check his work. He picked her up, his grip sure and confident as he turned towards a shooting target he had set up in the corner of his room ages ago as he wrapped his hand around her handle, pressing a calloused finger to her trigger. Bianca shuddered to life, loosing an arrow into the dummy with a satisfying ‘thwack’ and an almost inaudible twang as the string snapped back into place, ready for the next time he fired her in combat. He loved the sounds she made. It was good to know that even after all these years, he still knew exactly what made her tick, responding to his touches so quickly and it made her such a pleasure to use.
“That was beautiful, Baby. Absolutely perfect.” He smiled softly as he gently lowered her onto a pillow, her performance earning her a brief respite while he got himself cleaned up before they charged back into the fray, the Inquisition’s work apparently never done.
dededos
turnnoffyourmind
origamiaround
snowghoul
discoholicmusic
jbbartram-illu
yousharknotpass
areudirty
