In Hysterics

<3

inhysterics:

made this for someone yesterday, but it needs to see the world. THE WHITE SPACE IS PART OF IT.

Never forget that time I made this

inhysterics:

made this for someone yesterday, but it needs to see the world. THE WHITE SPACE IS PART OF IT.

Never forget that time I made this

(Source: inhysterics)

fidgetyfrolic:

schlock-o-rama:

The Howling 2: Your Sister Is A Werewolf (1985)

It is late at night here on A Fidgety Frolic, and thus it is time for Howling 2 gifs.  When I first saw this particular part of the end credits, I nearly peed myself to death, it was the funniest thing I had ever seen up until that point.

fidgetyfrolic:

schlock-o-rama:

The Howling 2: Your Sister Is A Werewolf (1985)

It is late at night here on A Fidgety Frolic, and thus it is time for Howling 2 gifs.  When I first saw this particular part of the end credits, I nearly peed myself to death, it was the funniest thing I had ever seen up until that point.

dedalvs:

geekshallinherit:

dedalvs:

The series premiere of Star-Crossed on the CW is tonight at 8/7 Central! Watch it live, then also DVR it, and watch your DVR’d recording within 24 hours of the premiere! To go with the premiere, I thought I’d introduce a little bit about the language I created for the show, Sondiv. You’ll hear a couple of lines in tonight’s episode, and even more in the episodes to come.
Star-Crossed is about a group of aliens called Atrians (in Sondiv, Itrejivil) that come to Earth seeking refuge. After an initial conflict, the refugee Atrian population is interned in a small section of Louisiana called the Sector. A decade or so later, the US government decides to pilot an integration program at an American high school, allowing seven Atrian students to attend classes with local Louisiana teenagers. Those students and the school become the center of national and international attention, as intrigue ensues.
The Atrians themselves speak a language called Sondiv which I was hired to create for the show. After the end of the conflict, most Atrians agree that if they want to thrive in their new home, they’ll have to learn English, and try their best to assimilate into American culture. Consequently, you won’t hear a ton of Sondiv in the show, but it still has its place.
I had a lot of fun with the language. It’s kind of different. Ordinarily a language uses case marking, word order or both to signal who does what to whom. In the case of Sondiv, the number of participants and what they do are determined by the semantics of the verb itself, and, secondarily, what aspect the verb is in. Consequently, the “case” prefixes don’t actually have any meaning, and the set of roles assigned to each participant is purely lexical. I’ll give you a couple examples, but to start with, here are some nouns: len ”girl”; dob “boy”; yos “flower”. Now for the examples:
Ilen iktir. “The girl is sleeping.”
Alen aktar. “The girl slept.”
Ilen idiya adob. “The girl holds the boy.”
Alen adayu udob. “The girl held the boy.”
Ilen isima ayos udob. “The girl gives the boy a flower.”
Alen asamu uyos idob. “The girl gave the boy a flower.”
That should give you a basic idea about how the system works. Most of the time, though, new information (usually the object) gets dragged out to the front. The most usual order for something like the last sentence, then, would be this:
Uyos asamu alen idob. ”The girl gave the boy a flower.”
Regarding pronunciation, stress tends to be on the last syllable, and there are three nasal vowels. Nasal vowels are found in French, Portuguese and Hindi, amongst others, and they’re found frequently in Sondiv. The three nasal vowels are spelled either with a following n or m in coda position, and they are: on, an and en. (If you speak french, they sound like on, an/en and in, respectively.)
The writing system you see above is called Kwandon. You won’t see it in the pilot (or you might? It may have been added in post, but the creation of the script post-dated the filming of the pilot), but it does feature prominently throughout the rest of the series. The script is an abjad, which means that you (usually) only write the consonants (though vowels are written when they occur in initial position). In order to spell different words related to the same root, one or more modifications is added to the root consonants, with prefixes and suffixes added as needed. Here are some examples (with a couple plurals thrown in for comparison):
Ksen “sun”

Ksayan “suns”

Ksemis “lamp”

Ksemil “lamps”

Keson “bright”

Sokson “flash”

Soksumiv “light”

Ikson “to glow, to shine”

Though the script is abjadic, there is actually an alphabetic variant you can use to spell things out (it had specialized uses on the Atrian homeworld, but, for obvious reasons, enjoys greater use in America, where everyone is used to using an alphabet). You’ll often see that used by the local Americans in the series.
Aside from that, here are some useful Sondiv phrases:
Alyakson “hello” (yakson for short)
Aldovos “goodbye”
Leglas atezi “please”
Asoluviv “thank you”
Enden igel? “What’s up?”
Again, Star-Crossed premieres tonight on the CW at 8/7 Central. It starts off good, and gets better. I had a wonderful time working on the show, as did the rest of the cast and crew. I hope you enjoy watching it.
&lt;3

How would one modify the last four example sentences so that the boy is the agent?

Change the prefixes, but likely also change the word order. So if Ilen isima ayos udob is “The girl gives the boy a flower”, then Idob isima ayos ulen is “The boy gives the girl a flower”. Looking at any verb (in this case isima), the vowel on the left hand side is the same as the prefix that goes on the subject, and the suffix on the right hand side is the same as the prefix that goes on the direct object. The remaining vowel (only i-, a- and u- are available as prefixes) is used as a prefix for the remaining role. That role is determined by the verb. With a verb like “give”, the third role is obvious, but with other verbs it usually has to be inferred from context.

holy shit, guys.

dedalvs:

geekshallinherit:

dedalvs:

The series premiere of Star-Crossed on the CW is tonight at 8/7 Central! Watch it live, then also DVR it, and watch your DVR’d recording within 24 hours of the premiere! To go with the premiere, I thought I’d introduce a little bit about the language I created for the show, Sondiv. You’ll hear a couple of lines in tonight’s episode, and even more in the episodes to come.

Star-Crossed is about a group of aliens called Atrians (in Sondiv, Itrejivil) that come to Earth seeking refuge. After an initial conflict, the refugee Atrian population is interned in a small section of Louisiana called the Sector. A decade or so later, the US government decides to pilot an integration program at an American high school, allowing seven Atrian students to attend classes with local Louisiana teenagers. Those students and the school become the center of national and international attention, as intrigue ensues.

The Atrians themselves speak a language called Sondiv which I was hired to create for the show. After the end of the conflict, most Atrians agree that if they want to thrive in their new home, they’ll have to learn English, and try their best to assimilate into American culture. Consequently, you won’t hear a ton of Sondiv in the show, but it still has its place.

I had a lot of fun with the language. It’s kind of different. Ordinarily a language uses case marking, word order or both to signal who does what to whom. In the case of Sondiv, the number of participants and what they do are determined by the semantics of the verb itself, and, secondarily, what aspect the verb is in. Consequently, the “case” prefixes don’t actually have any meaning, and the set of roles assigned to each participant is purely lexical. I’ll give you a couple examples, but to start with, here are some nouns: len ”girl”; dob “boy”; yos “flower”. Now for the examples:

  • Ilen iktir. “The girl is sleeping.”
  • Alen aktar. “The girl slept.”
  • Ilen idiya adob. “The girl holds the boy.”
  • Alen adayu udob. “The girl held the boy.”
  • Ilen isima ayos udob. “The girl gives the boy a flower.”
  • Alen asamu uyos idob. “The girl gave the boy a flower.”

That should give you a basic idea about how the system works. Most of the time, though, new information (usually the object) gets dragged out to the front. The most usual order for something like the last sentence, then, would be this:

  • Uyos asamu alen idob. ”The girl gave the boy a flower.”

Regarding pronunciation, stress tends to be on the last syllable, and there are three nasal vowels. Nasal vowels are found in French, Portuguese and Hindi, amongst others, and they’re found frequently in Sondiv. The three nasal vowels are spelled either with a following n or m in coda position, and they are: onan and en. (If you speak french, they sound like onan/en and in, respectively.)

The writing system you see above is called Kwandon. You won’t see it in the pilot (or you might? It may have been added in post, but the creation of the script post-dated the filming of the pilot), but it does feature prominently throughout the rest of the series. The script is an abjad, which means that you (usually) only write the consonants (though vowels are written when they occur in initial position). In order to spell different words related to the same root, one or more modifications is added to the root consonants, with prefixes and suffixes added as needed. Here are some examples (with a couple plurals thrown in for comparison):

Ksen “sun”

Ksayan “suns”

Ksemis “lamp”

Ksemil “lamps”

Keson “bright”

Sokson “flash”

Soksumiv “light”

Ikson “to glow, to shine”

Though the script is abjadic, there is actually an alphabetic variant you can use to spell things out (it had specialized uses on the Atrian homeworld, but, for obvious reasons, enjoys greater use in America, where everyone is used to using an alphabet). You’ll often see that used by the local Americans in the series.

Aside from that, here are some useful Sondiv phrases:

  • Alyakson “hello” (yakson for short)
  • Aldovos “goodbye”
  • Leglas atezi “please”
  • Asoluviv “thank you”
  • Enden igel? “What’s up?”

Again, Star-Crossed premieres tonight on the CW at 8/7 Central. It starts off good, and gets better. I had a wonderful time working on the show, as did the rest of the cast and crew. I hope you enjoy watching it.

<3

How would one modify the last four example sentences so that the boy is the agent?

Change the prefixes, but likely also change the word order. So if Ilen isima ayos udob is “The girl gives the boy a flower”, then Idob isima ayos ulen is “The boy gives the girl a flower”. Looking at any verb (in this case isima), the vowel on the left hand side is the same as the prefix that goes on the subject, and the suffix on the right hand side is the same as the prefix that goes on the direct object. The remaining vowel (only i-, a- and u- are available as prefixes) is used as a prefix for the remaining role. That role is determined by the verb. With a verb like “give”, the third role is obvious, but with other verbs it usually has to be inferred from context.

holy shit, guys.

Paul F. Tompkins telling my life story, nbd.

(Source: daddymymouthisfullofstars)

Teri&#8217;s earrings are PERFECTION. Also, I&#8217;m kind of writing about Star-Crossed now: here&#8217;s a preview of tonight&#8217;s episode.

femburton:

image

Dax Shepard career highlight.

cisheterophobic asked: You know you're whole little attitude that i need to be "mature" to be taken seriously is gross, first of all. Second of all, yes, the idea that sexual agency in women is important (although this issue is not exclusive to them but also dfabs and trans feminine dmabs) but calling a rape scene feminist is never a good idea. There are other ways sexual agency can be shown. You're entire article screams second wave, but then again what about you doesn't?

lalondes:

Well, yes, if we’re going to have a conversation about something as sensitive and deeply personal as this, I do expect more maturity than “u fucked up.” I don’t think that’s asking a lot.

Anyway, thanks for clarifying. I’m with you: I strongly believe that popular media should work to eradicate myths about consent and rape, and emphasize the importance of sexual agency. This is an important and valuable message for everyone - women, especially trans women, given the frighteningly high prevalence of transmisogynistic violence. It’s an important message for non-binary trans people. It’s an important message for trans men. Hell, it’s an important message for cis men - I’m a firm believer in the idea that teaching men not to rape, to borrow the popular slogan, should be a primary goal of anti-rape advocacy.

And I understand your reservations with calling a rape scene feminist. You’re under no obligation to consider the Divergent scene to be feminist. It’s scary. It’s intense. It was, as I wrote, triggering for me. I’ve placed trigger warnings on every single one of my posts about it, and I don’t condone my article being used to shame or silence those who are triggered by rape. I’ve gotten some feedback arguing that it’s more feminist for sexual assault not to be depicted at all, and I understand that.

But here’s what I was getting at in my piece: we are a culture that suffers from rape illiteracy. This is largely due to popular portrayals of rape as being a woman’s fault, and to the social expectation that women must make themselves sexually available to men at all times. Popular media reinforces these harmful messages constantly and consistently. Think about CNN crying over the Steubenville rapists. Think about Daniel Tosh joking about a patron at one of his shows being gang-raped, and how the public response was largely to shame the patron and tell her, loudly, that she had nothing to complain about. I could listen a million more examples. You’re as familiar with the harmful narratives of rape culture as I am.

In my view, Divergent flouted those narratives in a really powerful way. Tris is given plenty of opportunities to articulate consent and set her own boundaries, in contexts both sexual and non-sexual. In the rape scene, she unapologetically says no, fights off her attacker, and is roundly, unanimously congratulated for doing so. There’s no shaming. No, “Tris, he’s your boyfriend, you owe him sex.” No, “Why did you punch him, Tris? Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” No, “Well, Tris, maybe if you hadn’t been wearing that tank top…” 

None of that. Tris defeats her rapist and is congratulated for it.

I think that’s important. As someone who once found herself in a situation where saying no and fighting back were impossible, I found the scene to be tremendously powerful. Cathartic, even, because Tris was saying and doing all the things that I couldn’t say and do. And it made me feel good to look around the theatre, at all the teenage girls seated around me, and know that they were absorbing the message that it’s okay to say no and defend yourself.

The scene isn’t perfect. One person I spoke to this morning made the point that the scene takes place in a simulated environment, a test, where if she doesn’t say no and fight back, she fails. That’s a very valid point. The implication is that anyone who can’t say no or fight back has failed in some way, which is an insidious bit of victim blaming that I really take issue with. It doesn’t, at least in my view, nullify the value of Tris unapologetically fighting back and saying no, but the scene could have been framed differently to avoid this problem.

There are ways that sexual agency can be depicted and promoted without actually depicting rape and sexual assault. Tris’s articulation of her boundaries to Four is one, and it’s a good one. But I hesitate to say that sexual assault and rape should never be depicted or discussed, especially in media marketed toward young women, and I think that I’ve done a sufficient job of articulating why both in my original article and in this response.

I really, really take issue with the “calling a rape scene feminist is never a good idea” line. Yeah fine let’s just pretend rape doesn’t happen, good call.