People like writing about war, but they rarely like writing
about the aftermath. And I think that’s a shame, because sometimes writing
about the aftermath can be at least as interesting. There’s a lot you can do
with what happens after the fighting is done, when people need to rebuild, when
they need to find who they are and where they fit in a world that is different
than it was when they began.
Write about interpersonal
relationships, and how they changed.
Write about how
people view themselves and the actions they needed to take.
Write about rebuilding—physically,
socially, mentally, emotionally.
Write about the choices
people made because they thought they were never going to need to face the
consequences.
Write about the emotional
toll that war takes, that constant violence takes, that never being able to
relax takes.
Write about the physical
toll that war takes, about the people who come back missing limbs or
neurons.
Write about the people
who lost everyone they knew and still have to live with themselves.
Write about the people
who lost everything, their homes, their land, the cities, about them
finding new places to call home, or not.
Write about the people who are tasked with creating a new world, and the decisions
they have to make.
Write about the people
who only knew war, who were born after the war started and grew up with
only that, who now need to figure out who they are in a world that has no place
for them anymore.
Write about the people
who were heroes, who know how to be heroes but don’t know how to be people.
Write about the people
who weren’t heroes, who were hated, who were disgraced.
Write about the people
who didn’t fight in the war because they couldn’t, because they weren’t
physically capable or because society said they weren’t suitable.
Write about the people
who fought on the losing side, who sacrificed everything and still lost and
now need to rebuild with nothing, who are painted as monsters when they need no
worse than the side that won.
Write about the trials,
for people who committed war crimes, for people who took advantage of what was
going on to do what they wanted.
Write about the weapons
that are finding their way into the hands of children, cheap and easy to use,
because they were left behind when the soldiers packed up and left.
Write about the landmines,
the unexploded ordinances, the things that governments forgot were there or
just didn’t care.
Write about ten years
later, or twenty, or thirty, or one, or six months, or the next day, about
what people do when the adrenaline of victory or defeat subsides and they’re
left with a world that they no longer understand, that they no longer know,
because they spent so long trying to destroy the old world that they forgot
that they would have to live in the new one.
Write about the next
generation, who grew up with parents who flinched at loud noises and cousins
who could remember air raid sirens, who grew up doing drills they didn’t
understand because the people who made the drills couldn’t forget that one day
they might have been necessary.
Write about the women
who stayed behind because they had no choice, about the women who stayed
behind because they wanted to, about the women who couldn’t stay behind because
there was no behind, because everywhere was a warzone and they were soldiers
because everyone was a soldier.
Write about the children
who trained for a war that ended before they were old enough to take up
arms, where all they know is violence, not peace, how to destroy a city but not
how to build one or how to run one.
Write about career
soldiers who no longer have a career because the war is over, there’s
peace, and so they find work for the highest bidder, for the person most
willing to give them a knife or a gun and throw them wherever a little muscle
and a lot of violence is needed.
Write about the people
who did research on things nobody should ever research, who discovered
things they could never speak about, who rationalized what they did as science
while knowing it wasn’t.
Write about everyday
people coping with everything that happened, with things they saw and
things they did and things they knew that they wouldn’t wish on their worst
enemy.
It frustrates me
that it took a bout of insomnia and FAR too long to realize something
very, very simple.
All that Queer
Discourse? It’s just like pronouns.
Some people want to
be referred to as Queer. Some people have a strong aversion to it.
Some people want to be referred to as he/him, some folks as xe/xir.
That’s all
cool. But here’s the catch:
I
don’t care how femme someone looks, if they want to be he/him,
that’s the pronoun you should use. Someone could be the most
androgynous person around, but they want she/they? That’s how you
should refer to them. This person want to use pronouns you never
heard before and you half suspect were just made up on the spot? Use
it.
Someone
wants to be called queer? You might have issues with the word, but
respect their choice and use it for them. That’s how they identify.
Someone else thinks ‘queer’ is a naughty word? Ok, use what they
prefer for them.
Meanwhile, if someone else in the conversation has expressed they
prefer queer, that’s fine for when talking about or to
them.
Y’all. 2,000 nickels is $400. 2,000÷5. It equals $400.
i’m crying. no, no it doesn’t
the answers keep getting worse better
i like how you just decided to give your sister 2 kg of copper and nickel.
no it was 10kg (22 lbs). a nickel weighs 5 grams. you people really are terrible at this
This post made me cry.
I’m still waiting for the inevitable nickelback joke.
……okay, for those who are honestly confused where their logic (or the logic other people applied when trying to solve this problem) went wrong:
In currency, nickels aren’t equal to 5. Nickels are equal to .05 A nickel is worth .05 of one whole dollar.
So we need to multiply the 2,000 by that fraction, because that’s what a nickel represents. A whole 5 in this context would be $5, not 5c. (And that’s right out.)
We multiply the amount of units we have (2,000) by how much each of those units is worth (.05), to give us the whole dollar amount they are equivalent to.
2,000 units, each worth .05 of a whole, would be equal to ____ wholes.
2,000 x .05 = ____
(A single whole in this case is a single dollar. So your answer is in dollars.)
OR, you can think about grouping those nickels together in piles that each make $1, and counting how many piles you have.
20 nickels in each pile, since 20 nickels equal one dollar.
2,000 units, divided into piles of 20, gives us = ___ piles.
2,000 / 20 = ____
(A single pile in this case is equal to a single dollar. So your answer is, again, in dollars.)
Sometimes it’s a lot easier if you literally talk through a problem. It can help you keep straight what each number in the equation represents and how they relate to each other.
… Huh. I functionally use the first equation, but doing it as shown requires a calculator for me, because fuck decimals and large numbers alike, I need to break them down further.
So, 5×2 is the basic part of the math.
Then all you need to do is figure out where to put the decimal point.
2000 means adding three zeros to the end of the number, because that’s how many are in the number in the first place.
.05 means taking two of them away, because two numbers after the decimal point.
(5×2 = 10. Plus three zeros is 10,000. Take two away is 100.)
Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Religion & Lore Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Pietro Maximoff & Wanda Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff & Vali, Pietro Maximoff & Nari, Vali & Nari & Loki Characters: Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Vali, Nari Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, GFY Series: Part 7 of Ofinn Börn Summary:
Red spills like blood from Vali’s hands, Wanda’s smile sharp and vicious as any wolf. Nari moves like light itself, Pietro laughing as he gathers their sister-brother to his chest.
Honestly something that bothers me more than most things is having my compassion mistaken for naivety.
I know that another fish might eat this bullfrog right after I spend months rehabilitating it.
I know that turning a beetle back onto its legs won’t save it from falling over again when I walk away.
I know that there is no cosmic reward waiting for my soul based on how many worms I pick off a hot sidewalk to put into the mud, or how many times I’ve helped a a raccoon climb out of a too-deep trashcan.
I know things suffer, and things struggle, and things die uselessly all day long. I’m young and idealistic, but I’m not literally a child. I would never judge another person for walking by an injured bird, for ignoring a worm, or for not really caring about the fate of a frog in a pond full of, y’know, plenty of other frogs.
There is nothing wrong with that.
But I cannot cannot cannot look at something struggling and ignore it if I may have the power to help.
There is so much bad stuff in this world so far beyond my control, that I take comfort in the smallest, most thankless tasks. It’s a relief to say “I can help you in this moment,” even though they don’t understand.
I don’t need a devil’s advocate to tell me another fish probably ate that frog when I let it go, or that the raccoon probably ended up trapped in another dumpster the next night.
I know!!!! I know!!!!!!! But today I had the power to help! So I did! And it made me happy!
So just leave me alone alright thank u!!!!
THIS.
I heard a story about this, a parable I guess.
There was a big storm and a ton of starfish were washed onto the beach, stranded much further up than they could get back and beginning to bake in the post-storm sunshine. A little girl was walking down the beach, picking up starfish and throwing them back into the sea. Some guy comes up and asks her what she’s doing. “Saving the starfish,” she says.
He looks around at the huge beach and the hundreds of starfish, and says “You can’t possibly save them all. I’m afraid you’re not gonna make much of a difference.”
She throws another starfish back into the ocean, and replies “It made a difference to that one.”
Yeah, I mean, we know we can’t change all the things. But have you ever noticed how much better life is when you’re around people who change things when they can?
Kindness is a choice. Even if it’s small, it’s worth it.
This is what I’m talking about, when I say that kindness and compassion do not equate with ignorance, stupidity, or naivety. Being cynical does not make someone more intelligent or more worldly.
Kindness is not weakness.
Kindness is brave. Especially when you also know that your kindness might not be returned, may even be met with anger or cruelty. It’s reaching out with an open hand, knowing that it’s just as likely to be bitten as it is to be held.
Kindness is hard. If you can’t find it in yourself to be kind, then fine. But don’t make it more difficult for those that can.
Reminds me so much of mini-prinz and his tales of picking up snails off the sidewalk 😊