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Earlier today, Jurassic World director Colin Trevorrow posted a mysterious Tweet showing what looks like the old, weathered “East Dock” sign Dennis Nedry knocked down in the first Jurassic Park film minutes before having his unfortunate encounter with a venom-spitting Dilophosaurus.
How this relates to the plot of Jurassic World is unclear, but speculation is always fun.
For the record, feminism, by definition, is the belief that men and women should have equal rights and opportunities. It is the theory of political, economic, and social equality of the sexes.
And if you still hate the word, it is not the word that is important. It’s the idea and ambition behind it.
How can we affect change in the world when only half of it is invited or feels welcome to participate in the conversation? Men, I would take this opportunity to extend your formal invitation. Gender equality is your issue too.
The more I have spoken about feminism, the more I have realized that fighting for women’s rights has too often become synonymous with man-hating. If there is one thing I know for certain, it is that this has to stop. For the record, feminism, by definition, is the belief that men and women should have equal rights and opportunities. It is the theory of the political, economic and social equality of the sexes.
it started as a joke and it’s now an otp
ivedecidednottoendorseyourpark said: ☛ *blush*
Send my muse “☛” for their reaction of your muse walking in on mine masturbating.
Privacy was a thing Fleurette had not quite been acquainted with in the past. It came in swings and roundabouts of very, very brief occasions; and she hardly seized the opportunity to relieve some stress, as some might call it. One could even wonder if the thought had ever crossed her mind. It was why she had taken the notions of privacy and quietness to the private study—
Only to be walked in on. Wonderful.
“A-Alan!” squeaked the albino, who was left wholly alarmed and at a loss of what to do or say. “There is a thing known as knocking!”
He is initially shocked at the sight before him. Shocked, mainly, to find a person in his study. Now, what said person is /doing/, on the other hand…well, that was pretty shocking, too. “This is /my/ study!” He says, voice higher pitched than usual, skin splotchy and red in the face and neck. “You never come in here if I’m not present!” He’s not freaking out as much as he normally would, a fact he finds a little surprising. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that she’s his wife, but, still… “I was in the backyard, you know.” He coughs, averting his gaze to the floor…more hurt than shocked, now. “If…you wanted to…” He coughs. “You could have called me inside…”
Nick laughs gently, biting back a wince as he applies the peroxide. “It’s true,” he remarks, winding the bandages tight around his finger. “Cross-contimation from people is one of the leading causes of food poisoning. This—” He holds up the injured digit and points to it with another. “Is hardly worth concern. But throwing out food because it could potentially be unsafe is.” He shakes his head, smiles. “Don’t worry about it.”
He smiles, grabbing the steaks and supplies. “I’m going to get these started, okay? Shout if you need anything.”
jurassicsniper said: A note had been hastily shoved into the doctor's mailbox. "In town for a few days if you want to have a beer. -Muldoon."
He can’t help the wry smile that tugs at his lips as his eyes lay on the scribbles. The hunter will be waiting for him at his favorite watering hole, of course, and he wastes no time changing out of his robe and into his favorite flannel and khakis. This’ll be good.
Muldoon’s blue eyes were steely, but not entirely cold. There was some friendliness and warmth, hidden deep down and a little to the left. He patted Alan’s shoulder lightly, then returned to his drink. “You know, I could go for something to eat. Can’t have much to drink on an empty stomach, you know? Any suggestions?”
"The burgers here are pretty damn good." He offers, grabbing a discarded menu to his right. "Buffalo wings, too, and the supreme nachos. Not sure what your preference is, but any of those are pretty good." He pushes the menu towards the other man, polishing off his drink. "Everything here’s good." He hadn’t missed the warmth in the other man’s eyes, or the steely chill. Somehow, Alan feels lucky, like he’s just been invited to a showing of a rare spectacle. He raises his hand, ordering two glasses of the good stuff…and steak for himself and his friend.
“Thank you,” he says, running his hand under the water. Fortunately, he isn’t squeamish around blood.
He returns with a roll of crisp bandages, setting them next to the sink, along with the grater, which needs to be washed. “Well, the good news is that you didn’t get any blood on the food.” He winces, scratching his neck. “Bad joke. Sorry…”