wispy wonderings of a whimsical nature

33 | alaskan | INFJ | fanfiction writer (but not publisher...) | currently in my Pitt era

[nealashitposts]

So I've got this friend whose nervous because she's trans and dating this guy who she hasn't told yet because they've only been on a two dates. For this story let's call the friend Jane and the guy she was dating Jason. Happy ending don't worry.

So I tell Jane to bring her boy over to a bbq I'm having and she can tell him she's trans at my place surrounded by queer and trans people who love her and will support her if he ends up being awful.

She waits till the end of the bbq to tell him the news, by which point the rest of us have learned that Jason is a kind, friendly, empathetic, hard working, dummy. So we sit down, all of us a little worried about this gym bro's reaction when she tells him she's trans, and that she understands if he doesn't want to keep dating her it's no big deal.

He's baffled, so we explain what trans is, and after the disclosure that she hasn't had bottom surgery yet...

"Oh you have a dick?"

"... yeah."

He look's around at the room full of people with baited breath, his clearly a little afraid girl friend says

"Oooohhhh! I get it! You think- don't worry Babe! Watch this!"

And ya'll this man jumps up, runs into the kitchen and returns with one of the bratwurst we had for grilling and proceeds to tilt his head back, put it down his throat, hold it in his mouth for a moment, and spit it up without even a whisper of a gag and then looks around at the group absolutely beaming with pride.

My mans saw his worried girlfriend and her support network and thought to him self "Oh they don't think I can't please my girl, but I'll show them!"

[nealashitposts]

I do feel the need to add that later he excitedly tell the group that as a straight guy, he never thought that skill would be useful outside hotdog eating contests.

[hyperrbolic-orange]

"Man its too bad that im straight since I've got like no gag reflex and all."

"Honey, I must tell you, i am in fact trans and I have not had bottom surgery."

"My god... everything's coming up Jason."

[dancinbutterfly]

Pure of heart dumb of ass hetero of sexual

[abalidoth]

Fun little math trick I find really helpful: the ratio of a mile to a kilometer is within 1% of the Golden Ratio. That means that if you have a good memory for Fibonacci numbers (1 2 3 5 8 13 21 34 55 89) you can convert pretty accurately by taking consecutive Fibonacci numbers.

For example, 89 kilometers is really close to 55 miles (55.3). Or, say you need to convert 26 miles to kilometers: 26 can be written as 21 plus 5, so taking the next Fibonacci number up gives 34 and 8, meaning it should be around 42 kilometers. Sure enough, it's 41.8 km!

[tamberoo]

i need several moments, math like this scares me

[abalidoth]

Not gonna lie, as much as I want to be helpful and comprehensible, I am very proud of provoking that reaction image.

[writing-prompt-s]

You are a merchant who travels around a lot, your number one customer is a legendary hero. One day you ask him why he keeps visiting you and he answers, “Because your the only NPC that says different dialogue every time.”

[sunflowersandink]

The first time the hero comes through, he stops without so much as a hello.

“Greetings, traveler! Here to make a - ” the merchant starts to say, before the man cuts him off.

“Yes. Show me,” he says shortly.

The merchant eyes him, irritated, but opens up his pack to reveal what he’s got. Nothing much at the moment, a couple potions, a battered helmet, a semi-decent dagger, and a few loaves of bread and cheese.

The hero studies the goods, barely glancing at him. Finally, he points to the cheese and the potions, pulling out a sack of gold. “I’ll take those. You can have five swords, two basic armors, a bow, and a couple gems.”

Great. Because that’s going to be fun to carry, the merchant thinks. The hero still hasn’t said so much as a please or thank you.

“Nice weather we’re having, eh?” he says passive-aggressively as the hero pulls everything out of his own pack. It’s off-script and they both know it, and he instantly regrets it.

The hero blinks at him, startled, glancing up at the sky as though he just noticed it was there. “Er. I suppose it is, yes.”

The trader bites his lip and gives him a tight, polite smile, not trusting himself to speak again. They trade the goods and gold in silence, and as the hero closes up his bag again, the merchant says the send-off.

“Safe travels, adventurer!” he says, and if it’s a little too perky to be genuine, well, at least it’s on script.

The other man pauses briefly, as though caught off guard, before he seems to shake it off, hopping back on his horse and riding off without another word.

Ugh. Heroes.

…

He spots the same horse coming towards him a couple weeks later, on a different road, and sighs internally.

The horse stops before him, its rider clambering down. It’s definitely the same man, though he’s got slightly better armor now, and is armed with a battle-ax rather than a sword.

“Greetings traveler! Here to make a trade?” He asks.

The hero shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Hello, yes, I am,” he mumbles.

The merchant raises an eyebrow. “Oh, we’re not above saying hello anymore?” For heaven’s sake, what is wrong with me?? He wonders, cursing himself.

But the hero just blushes slightly, visible even under the helmet. “No, I’m not. I just…sorry.”

The trader flushes too. “It’s fine,” he mutters, quickly fumbling to open his pack and get this encounter back into familiar territory. He’s still got two of the swords from last time, plus a few healing and stamina potions.

The hero opens his own pack. “I’d like to sell this,” he offers, pulling out what the other man recognizes as his old armor. “And, uh… I’ll take one of those swords,” he says, pointing to it.

The merchant blinks. “One of…these swords?” He asks, confused.

The hero looks faintly irritated. “What other swords would I be talking about? Yes, one of those swords,” he snaps.

The merchant looks at the fine battle-ax strapped to the hero’s back, and then down at the crappy, slightly rusted junk swords the hero had just sold him two weeks earlier. “Okay, fine, weirdo, here’s your sword, again,” he says under his breath, handing him the marginally better of the two.

The adventurer looks at him with a strange combination of scandalized and fascinated. He takes the sword, passing him the gold for it, and turns to leave. At the last second, he spins on his heel back towards him. “Thank you,” he says awkwardly, and then turns quickly back and leaps on his horse, taking off.

“You’re… welcome?” The trader says, watching him gallop away down the road.

Huh.

…

He’s not particularly surprised to see the man again the following week, this time coming swiftly down one of the roads from the mountains. It’s hard to tell, but it almost looks like he perks up when he spots the merchant, his horse slowing down in front of him.

“Hello again,” he says, looking up at the man on horseback and deciding fuck it, he’s barely gotten the script right with this one anyway. “Haven’t been eaten by any dragons yet?”

The hero, to his surprise, grins. “Not yet.”

“Well…” he flounders a bit, not sure how to actually make conversation like this. “Good, then.”

The other man laughs, sounding startled. “Yeah, that’s how I look at it.”

He gestures to his bag. “So, would you like to make a trade?” he asks, grinning.

The rider suddenly looks…almost horrified. “I’m…I’m so sorry,” he stammers. “I don’t have anything to sell. I ran into another trader a couple days ago and I needed the gold, so I sold everything extra I had on me.”

The merchant shrugs, a little confused that he seems so upset. “It’s okay. Do you want to buy anything? I don’t have much with me, but I’ve got a few things.”

The hero brightens, and quickly slides down off his horse. He hurries over to the merchant, who offers his pack.

He’s low on inventory again, traveling light for the journey through the mountains. He’s only carrying a couple of arrows, a stamina potion, and a pair of basic boots.

But the hero barely glances at them. “I’ll take everything,” he declares, pulling out a large pouch of gold.

The merchant stares at him. “You don’t even have a bow,” he blurts out.  

The hero flushes slightly, but manages to stare him down. “Maybe I’m planning on getting one,” he says defensively.

The merchant opens his mouth, ready to argue, and then closes it again. What the hell, it’s less to carry anyway. He shrugs, accepting the gold and handing over the items.

The other man looks pleased. His boots, the merchant notices, are much nicer than the ones he just bought. He chooses not to comment, instead simply smiling at him. “See you around, then.”

The hero smiles almost shyly back, and reaches back for the reigns of his horse. “Yeah, I’ll…see you around.”

They part, and the merchant continues on up the mountain, his pockets heavy and bag light, his steps cheerful.

It was a good day.

…

The fourth time he sees the hero, he promptly freaks out.

The man is covered in blood, leaning heavily against the red-splattered coat of his seemingly uninjured horse.

He grins at the merchant, even though he looks exhausted. His face is pale and drawn, and there are dark circles beneath  his eyes.

“What the hell happened?” he demands, horrified.

The hero, oddly, smiles wider, though he looks a little sheepish now. “It’s really not as bad as it looks - ” he starts to say, but the merchant is already vigorously rooting through his bag.

He finds what he’s looking for, pulling out the only two healing potions he’s got on him. “Drink these,” he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The bloodied man perks up at the sight, automatically extending his hand to take them. “Ah, thank the gods,” he breathes. “I was all out. Here, I’ll get my gold.” He twists towards his saddlebag with a grunt of effort, and the merchant can now see the giant claw gashes that rake down his shoulder and across his ribs.

The merchant shakes his head fiercely. “No, no, you’re not going to pay me, you’re injured. Just take the damn potions.”

The hero stares at him, the tiny bottles lying in his massive palm. “You’re just…giving them to me? You’re not selling them?”

He glowers back. “Obviously, you moron, you’re covered in your own blood.”

Still looking slightly befuddled, he closes his hand around the vials, holding them close to his chest. He pops the cork out of one, downing it in one go and making a face at the bitter taste.

Already, he can see the hero’s color improving, and he stands a little bit straighter as he swallows the second bottle. He sighs, the pinched, pained look on his face easing. He rolls his shoulder a bit, and the merchant can see under the armor that the skin is smooth once more. He looks at the merchant, a smile at the corner of his lips. “Thank you,” he tells him earnestly. “I won’t forget this kindness.”

The trader shrugs, feeling a little awkward. “Anyone else would do the same.”

The hero looks at him, all trace of the smile gone. “No,” he says seriously. “They wouldn’t.”

He opens his mouth as though to say something else, and then glances down at himself and pauses. He chuckles. “I should probably find an inn and clean up, shouldn’t I?”

The merchant snorts. “Unless you want what’s left of your armor to get all gunked up.”

He snickers too. “Yeah.”

“Well hey, I’ll keep an eye out for some nice new armor for you, if you’ve got the gold,” he tells him, jokingly dipping his voice into his script-tone.

The adventurer’s face flickers, looking almost uncomfortable. He smiles, but it looks forced. “Right.”

The merchant bites his lip, desperately looking for a way to get rid of the suddenly tense atmosphere. “Seriously though,” he finally says. “Keep your healing potions stocked, okay? I don’t want you showing up again looking like you’ve been a wolf’s chew toy.”

The other man grins. “I definitely will.”

He turns back to his horse, wrinkling his nose and swiping at the dried blood on its coat. Finally, he climbs up, and the other man is relieved to see him moving fluidly and painlessly. He looks down at the merchant, his cheeks pink. “I’ll see you soon.”

The merchant watches him ride off, and believes it.

…

It’s almost six months before he sees him again, long enough for him to be concerned, but finally the merchant is sitting at the side of the road, a cloth with his goods laid out across it in front of him, when he sees the very familiar horse coming at a steady, swift speed towards him.

The trader straightens up, a smile tugging at his lips as he sees him coming. It fades as the horse gets closer, and he sees the rider’s expression. He looks different than before, strangely focused. He seems…determined.

He’s swinging down off the horse almost before it fully stops, and marches over to the other man. “I brought you something,” he blurts out before the merchant can even greet him.

He blinks at him, and gets to his feet to face him. “You did?” he asks curiously.

The taller man thrusts his hand out. He opens his fingers, and a necklace slips between them to land in the merchant’s palm.

He stares down at it, puzzled. The chain is golden, and there’s dirt caught in the links, like it had been buried at some point. But the part that really catches his eye is the green gem that hangs from it, wrapped in delicate golden tree branches. He studies it. It’s dusty, like the chain, but nonetheless there’s a glow to it, as though lit from within.

“It’s lovely,” he murmurs. “It looks…elven?”

He looks up at the hero for confirmation, and finds the other man is watching him, his eyes so bright they look as though they could hold the same light as the stone.

“It is,” he tells him. “It’s a Life stone.”

The merchant’s lips part in shock, and he stares back at him. “It’s not,” he whispers. “It can’t be. They’re a myth, they don’t exist.”

There’s a smile like sunshine spreading across the adventurer’s face, proud and warm. “They do. They do, and I found one. It took me awhile, but I found it, and now I’m giving it to you. As long as you wear this, nothing can harm you, ever.” He’s positively beaming by now.

“How - but - what - you can’t give this to me,” the merchant gasps, reaching out and trying desperately to hand it back. “You need this, I’m a trader, I don’t need it!”

But the hero refuses to take it, just gently pushes it back towards him. “I want you to have it,” he says softly, “because I want you to come with me.”

The merchant freezes, eyes growing wide. “What do you mean come with you?” he breathes, a bubble of hope and fear and something else, something warm and giddy, rising up within him until he feels like he could burst with it.

“I mean,” and he reaches out, wrapping his hands around the merchant’s and the necklace, clasping them and holding them as though his hands are as precious as the gem within. “Come with me. Ride with me. Go on adventures, with me,” he says, and the merchant sees his own hope and fear and that same warmth reflected back at him in the other man’s eyes.

“I’m not supposed to do that,” he says softly.

The adventurer’s eyes twinkle with mirth. “You’re not supposed to go off script and sass the adventurers who come to trade with you either, but here we are.”

And at that the merchant laughs, feels the bubble within his swell and burst, spilling out without his consent, his joy too big to be contained.

Gently, he pulls his hands away from the hero, and sees the worry and insecurity flash across the other man’s face. He looks down at the pendant in his hands, the green that glimmers up at him.

“It’s a good trade,” the new adventurer murmurs, and he puts the chain around his neck, feels the the gem settle against his heart. He looks back up at his companion, his own eyes shining. “I’ll take it.”

The other hero’s face splits into the most blinding grin he’s ever seen in his life, and he can feel it mirrored on his own as their hands link together, and he’s led over to the horse.

“Wait!” He cries suddenly, pulling away to rush back to his mat. Quickly, he sits down, pulling on the pair of leather boots he was going to sell. He hesitates over the armor, knowing he doesn’t really need it, and decides to leave it for the next hero or trader who comes through. Instead, he simply picks up the simple sword, strapping it to his hip as he walks back to his companion.

The other man makes a face at the sword when he sees it. “We’ll find you something better, I’m sure.”

“That’s okay,” the new adventurer says as he’s helped onto the back of the horse. “I know all the best places to trade.”

[magicratfingers]

[depsidase]

[eggsdoodz]

i always feel like i’ve forgotten something :,)

[jenlog]

if any minors are following me

always make sure to start forging parents' signatures on the first day of class. that way, your teachers won't know that you've been forging signatures for the rest of the year

[jenlog]

hey I'm seeing some concerned parents and teachers in the notes, and I just want to say:

lmaooooo

[spritzeal]

flower language has always been an intense source of disappointment for me

like, they all mean really generic things like “love” or “forever” or “i’m sorry” 

i thought you could combine flowers

like you could just send someone a bouquet and from the combination of hibiscus and posies and tulips they’d understand “the rebel leader is dead, rendezvous at the docks at 8, bring the dog, you will need lighter fluid and  a large tomato”

[thursdayplaid]

I really hope no one’s answered this for you yet, I saw this and got so excited that my obscure knowledge base might come into use.  I had to stretch a few flowers so to speak but Victorian flower language allows for alteration in meaning depending on colour, fruit, flower, bud, steam, leaves and thorns, so I didn’t feel I was too far out of line.  This message would work best as two bouquets bound together.  First red Nasturtium with no leaves (red denotes a leader, the nasturtium a patriot) mixed with white or red Mask Flowers (rebellion, red if you want to emphasize fighting, white martyrdom) around Cypress (death).  Then Chick weed (rendezvous) and Blue Convolvulus (night) surrounded by eight White Popular Leaves (symbolises the time: eight), Yellow Iris (flame, and a flower that grows by rivers) and Yellow Prarie Dock Flowers (this was closest I could find to docks)and one large Tomato Leaf, all bound in Dogwood Bark.  Dogwood represents deceit, but as far as I could find the bark wasn’t used symbolically, and as you referred to the dog instead of a dog, I thought it was likely the pun should be a dead giveaway.  

So there’s your rebel message!

[ocoree]

Was up a little too late looking at plants, inking with a crow quill and Sumi ink, and attempting to do justice coloring them with Prismacolors, but the description of this bouquet niggled at my head until I made an attempt to visualize how such a thing would be pulled off. I’m no florist, so my arrangement attempt was more in focus on matching what was described than aesthetics! White Poplar was an intriguing plant to hunt down accurate images for, as there are a number of images where one could tell the leaves were spray painted white.

Little 2x4 inch piece on cardstock…. and I’m not a fan of attempting the oddity that is cypress fronds…

[thursdayplaid]

@ocoree  Thank you!  This is fantastic!   This artist makes furry and creature art and you should check them out!

[fucklestat]

i know it's been said many times before but i will never get over how jacob anderson, a british man with a british accent, not only nailed a louisiana creole accent but also developed a studiously (almost eerily) generic accent that louis uses in the present AND showed the first accent bleeding into the second accent at key moments as a way of aurally externalizing his character's inner journey. what did god put in this man when she created him.

[saintarmand]

@dedalvs anything to add about jacob anderson's accent/valyrian pronunciation work?

[dedalvs]

Pardon me, but is someone praising Jacob Anderson without letting me praise him first?!

Backing up. It's October 2009, and my Dothraki is chosen as the official version for HBO's Game of Thrones. Absolutely the job of a lifetime. Conlangers were never hired to create languages for big budget productions, and language was central to A Song of Ice and Fire. The fact that this was on HBO guaranteed that it was going to be huge, and now I was going to get to be on the set of a TV show, work with actors, go to Hollywood parties, and create a language that would be as popular as Klingon.

June 2011, only one of those four things had happened, and of all things, it was going to a Hollywood party—the season 1 premiere event for Game of Thrones. It was very cool! None of the cast attended, but it was cool! But as for the rest, the idea that I would ever actually talk to any of the actors or be on the actual set was, apparently, laughable. And as for Dothraki, it had a very loyal following of about 6 or 7 people, all of whom I came to know personally. Dothraki was discussed in the press, sure, but nobody was going to learn it; there were never going to be any Dothraki conventions. It wasn't the next Klingon.

June 2012, and by this point I'd gotten used to seeing my work on screen—and by that I mean I'd gotten used to seeing it performed…so-so. Every so often it was really good, but for the most part, I got used to hearing jumbled consonants, dropped syllables, missed words… I've always been a perfectionist, so this was difficult, but I didn't have much choice. I had absolutely no control over it. I never got to work with any of the actors, so all they had were my recordings, and a series of dialect coaches who had absolutely no idea what they were doing with my stuff. (And, as I would learn later, just because an actor nails 9 out of 10 takes doesn't mean the editor won't like the one take they screwed up. Sometimes that's the take that makes it to the screen.) Basically, if someone has an English line on a TV show that goes "It looks like the mechanism got screwed up somehow", and what they say is "It locks like a manism got scroot up someho", they're going to reshoot the scene until the actor says it right. If that happens with a conlang, no one will notice or care. This was now my life.

July 2012, I get the opportunity to create High Valyrian (yay!), and then a "dialect" of High Valyrian to be spoken in Slaver's Bay. Knowing the history from GRRM's books, I knew this "dialect" was actually a full daughter language with lexical/phonological material from an extinct language (Ghiscari) that I wasn't being asked to create, so I was going to have to create two languages at once, and at least have an idea for a third one—and, in fact, there was going to be a lot of dialogue in this new daughter language. Consequently my focus was split. I can honestly barely remember creating Astapori Valyrian, because I wanted to be sure that High Valyrian was right (I knew book fans didn't care about Dothraki, but did care about HV). Despite the lack of attention, I did realize that Astapori Valyrian had a cool sound and a great flow (it really does!). I wish I'd had more time to appreciate creating it as a daughter language (I wish High Valyrian had been as complete as Dothraki was at that point), but I was pleased with the result. I was curious to see how the actors would handle it.

April 21, 2013. I am absolutely over the moon. I'd just for the first time saw a scene that I loved in the books because, for once, I predicted what was going to happen (as a reader, I'm sitting here thinking, "How do you trade your entire army to someone and not wonder if they're going to use it on you after they get it?!"), and it actually plays better in the show than the books, and it all hinges on a language I created. I still get chills watching that scene: Episode 304, Daenerys revealing she speaks Valyrian. To this day that's still the best thing I've done. The same issues I mentioned above were present, as always (watching thinking, "Did she say mebatas instead of memēbātās…?"), but they're minor. The scene is outstanding. I realized that whatever was going to happen after this, I would always have this scene. That was a good night.

April 28, 2013. After last week's episode, I wasn't really waiting for anything. In episode 305 there's only one scene with any conlang work in it—nothing really major. Introducing Grey Worm, characterization, etc. Everything in this episode is about what's going on in Westeros. At this point I'd heard a fair amount of Astapori Valyrian in Slaver's Bay. It was good! Definitely good enough. Did the trick. The prosody wasn't quite what I did with it, but it was good. I was somewhat interested in this introduction in 305. Grey Worm only speaks Astapori Valyrian at this point, so this actor wouldn't have had had any other speaking lines, and aside from one short line and saying his name at the beginning, his next line is a huuuuuge speech, comparatively speaking. I was curious to see how he would do.

Critters and gentlefolk, that night I witnessed a miracle.

NEVER had I heard ANYONE speak one of my languages better than me until that night.

Every word, every syllable, EVERY SOUND OF EVERY CLAUSE Jacob "You Heard My Name" Anderson uttered was ABSOLUTELY FLAWLESS.

I was stunned. My mouth literally hung open—probably for the rest of the damn episode, at which point I went back and watched that scene—again, and again, and again.

And so you don't have to go searching, this is Grey Worm's line (not the first two short ones—the big one [note: j is [ʒ], except in Daenery's High Valyrian name, where it's [dʒ], dh is [ð], q is [q], r is [ɾ] and y is [y], in IPA]):

“Torgo Nudho” hokas bezy. Sa me broji beri. Ji broji ez bezo sene stas qimbroto. Kuny iles ji broji meles esko mazedhas derari va buzdar. Y Torgo Nudho sa ji broji ez bezy eji tovi Daenerys Jelmazmo ji teptas ji derve.

That was my translation of this English line:

“Grey Worm” gives this one pride. It is a lucky name. The name this one was born with was cursed. That was the name he had when he was taken as a slave. But Grey Worm is the name this one had the day Daenerys Stormborn set him free.

That is a LOOOOOOOOOONG ass line. And go watch that scene. There is nothing on the screen but his face. It's a closeup the entire time. Any slight deviation would be visible as well as audible. Take a look:

This...KING just casually dropped the greatest performance I have ever witnessed on screen at a time when I had already given up on ever seeing a truly great conlang performance on screen.

And then he proceeded to do it again and again and again and again and again for the rest of the entire show. I don't think it's a coincidence that the very last conlang line of Game of Thrones is his. They knew how much I loved him—I told them. I told anyone who would listen and twelve people who wouldn't, along with their next of kin. He didn't take my language and make it his own—no, no. He is graciously allowing me to claim that I created his native tongue—the one he's been speaking since birth. THAT'S how good he is.

So yeah, accent work? In English? I guess I'm not surprised he's pretty good at that. Something like that to this…adonis, this living, breathing Master Class™ in perfection is like yawning to an ordinary human. Jacob Anderson can walk into my house in the dead of night, take anything out of my refrigerator, and then leave the door to the fridge and the house open when he leaves. He has earned no less.

To sum up:

[slimemode]

[rolodextra]

unironically in love this image. ‘big day for me’ they’re SO excited about getting to use their flashlight. shared joy is double joy

[kim-jong-chill]

i need feminism because when jesus does a magic trick it’s a goddamn miracle but when a woman does a magic trick she gets burned at the stake

[mattheuphonium-blog]

fabulous 

[tockthewatchdog-deactivated2020]

i mean they did also kill jesus. that was a pretty significant thing that happened. like i understand where you’re coming from here but they very much did kill jesus.

[theweirdwideweb]

Dudes healthcare is so fake. My ADHD meds are $940 without insurance. But they gave me a website of "coupons" which straight up looks like a scam website, and I got it today for $60! Just a coupon from a random website and it was $900 cheaper. America, I am confusion!! America explain!!

[theweirdwideweb]

For all my uninsured judys out there it's for Walgreens only: walgreens.rxsense.com

[theweirdwideweb]

[handsmotif]

as a pharmacy technician i can share with you some websites that give you those "coupons" for your meds!

goodrx is the most well known one, but if i'm trying to find the cheapest price for a patient i compare it to scriptcycle, and use whichever is offering the best price. you just type in the medication (PLEASE make sure you're getting the right drug, dosage, and quantity) and your zip code and they will spit out some offers for you

some pharmacies may have their own discount card to compare to as well!

if you are getting a name brand medication, you can also look at the manufacturer's website to see if they offer any evouchers for you to use too

good luck out there 👍

[bitchesgetriches]

How to Pay Hospital Bills When You’re Flat Broke

[rayneydayss]

another one is singlecare.com, brought my duloxetine from $240 a month to $20

and there are coupons for hrt on there as well :) different options for different pharmacies

[hereissomething]

dollarfor.org saved my broke ass, it can save urs too

[bromple]

the pitt + text posts (part two!!)

[diane-nguyen-watches-cartoons-d]

[honeybeefawn]

imagine being éowyn in the lord of the rings trilogy. your uncle the king is being mind controlled by an evil wizard until said evil wizard's cooler version shows up and frees him. he is accompanied by an elf, a dwarf, and the hottest guy you've ever met. the hot guy also happens to be 87 years old and maybe still not over his immortal elf girlfriend but he respects and listens to you so you're shooting your shot. your geriatric hotguy situationship turns you down the night before the biggest battle ever then goes ghost hunting in the mountains. you decide to go to battle because you'll either help save your people or die in a really cool and honorable way. you then kill middle earth satan's number one henchman with the power of loophole and being a woman (you are also helped in doing this by a 4 foot tall stoner). then you get to marry faramir. 10/10 no notes my girl went through it all

[schmergo]

The Lincoln Assassination is really just wild if you think about it for a moment. The younger brother of one of the most famous actors in the country- himself a famous actor and heartthrob in his own right- killed the President in a theatre and yelled “Sic semper tyrannis,” a line often associated with Brutus, a character that his brother had famously played.

Like, imagine if Liam Hemsworth killed the Prime Minister of Australia at a red carpet movie premiere or something and yelled “I went for the head,” and Chris had to leave the Avengers press tour to tell everyone, “I swear I had nothing to do with this.” Imagine how weird that would be.

[morrigan-disapproves]

#cant wait for liam to snap

[bluegrasskitty]

Yeah, but it gets way weirder, y'all.

(Prepare yourselves because Lincoln lore is kinda my jam.)

John Wilkes Booth is the more (in)famous brother now, but back then his older brother, Edwin, was America’s (& Europe’s) darling.

They were from the famous Booth acting family, who were essentially the Barrymore’s of the mid-1800s. Classically trained, truly gifted kinda people.

The whole family, save John, was pro-Union. They were from Maryland FFS. There was no reason for John to be Confederate at all, but I digress.

John was known as a notorious scene stealer who pulled focus in everything he did, but audiences found him so charming that people kept hiring him anyway. He even starred in a few plays with his brother.

Edwin wasn’t just good at acting, though. He was good at life, too. Think Chris Evans levels of goodness.

Once, while standing at a train station, he saw a small child fall off the platform & on to the tracks. He immediately leapt into action! Risking his own life by jumping in front of an oncoming train, & heroically saved the little boy just in the nick of time, returning him to his hysterical mother to great applause.

That boy? ABRAHAM LINCOLN’S SON, ROBERT.

Yeah. That’s right. The brother of Lincoln’s assassin saved his son years before the crime took place. Small fucking world, right?? & He didn’t even know it was them until he received a letter of thanks a few months later.

Just a stand up fucking dude all the way around.

Now, in the aftermath of said crime, Edwin felt a great & terrible shame over his brother’s actions and actually retired from the stage & public life altogether, moving to London & becoming destitute in the process.

He felt their family no longer deserved the love & praise Americans had always poured over them when one of their own had betrayed the nation in such a terrible way.

Eventually though, a grief-striken people cried out for his return. Thousands of letters poured in from both here & abroad, begging the man to return to acting & bring joy back to us. Even Mrs. Lincoln wrote him & granted him and the family forgiveness. (Her own kin had been Confederates, to her great embarrassment, so she understood how he felt.)

After a few years, Edwin Booth did indeed return to the stage to great acclaim. He continued acting until a stroke a few years before his death in 1893 & even founded the Boone Theater in Manhattan, which was quite popular until it was destroyed by a fire.

He is still considered by many theater historians to be the greatest American Shakespearean actor of all time.

Edwin Booth. American actor. American hero.

[when-did-this-become-difficult]

fact checked this and it’s true but it’s So Much my brain just keeps rejecting it

[zevampirex]

The three of them give me so much camping vibe, and my head canon is to imagine Gimli and Aragorn trying to explain games to Legolas, but he is the worst at it.