Also, they’d slash their forearms a lot. They should look like they have a long-standing problem of cutting.
They lampshaded this sort of one of the times one of the brothers came back from the dead (that happened so often I’ve forgotten which one which time!) and mentioned he was scar-free.
My headcannon is that Castiel did a lot of healing on those boys.
They did make cuts on their arms - but I wouldn’t call them small.
Did anyone mention yet that after slicing their palms there was often a dramatic squeezing of the fist to make the blood pour out between the fingers?
I know this sounds silly, but the line you had about people running and not getting winded reminded me of a scene I remember in the film Red Sonja, with Brigitte Nielsen and Arnie. In one scene they are sword fighting. going at it all out, and yes, they do get tired, sitting down finally and huffing and puffing. Sure, it was a fantasy film but that was a bit of realism I didn’t expect,
I feel I’ve seen far too many passenger aircraft crashes in fiction where a plane crash lands where it’s hard enough to catch the entire plane on immediate fire but not hard enough for it to explode in a giant fireball or be completely vaporized.
Lots of scenes in fiction of people on fire running out of plane wrecks.
Ooh, I’m going to invent Pig Latin, except for numbers.
(It’ll revolutionize post-it note security.)
But what bothers me even more is the hacker breaking into the home/office and trying to guess the password: "Okay, when this CFO was seven, his family had a dog named Snickerdoodle, (but that’s not it), who loved to go to Grandpa’s cabin on Cape Cod, near Truro (but that’s too short). So, Grandpa Jablonskiwicz (also not it) would help the kids skip out on Grandma’s Jell-o Turkey ‘n’ Noodle Ring (too obvious) and go for pizza up the highway… at “Savory And The Sweet Escape Pizza Bakery”. And… that was it, I’m in!
Has anyone mentioned the spat at the top of the long staircase? Husband/wife or boyfriend/girlfriend are having an argument. A slap, an angry strike, and suddenly someone tumbles all the way down the steps and ends up at the bottom staring upwards, glassy-eyed, dead. I am guessing the stairtop squabble accidental death thing is not all that common in real life. But every TV detective ever has had one or two.
I guessing that even if the squabble is common, death is the often the result. We has a staircase in the house we lived in when I was 4 & 5. I fell down it a couple of times, and don’t even remember being bruised.
But yeah, it’s a weird place for a squabble to escalate.
My neighbors have one, a tight, windy spiral. My house has the normal, straight one, ending in skull cracking tile.
I fell down a set similar to mine when I was a tot, and turned out none the worse for wear*. However, I am careful around them now. More height, age and weight make falling down them a far more daunting prospect now.
*I was dropped on my head when I was less than a day old. I’m pretty sure my warranty was voided then.
I’ve fiddled with electronics since I was fifteen and I’ve yet to see a failure result in blue forked lightning skitter across the contours of whatever it is that failed. Generally it’s just a flash and maybe a pop followed by a little smoke.
A friend’s dad died recently. The guy was interesting, sort of an idiot savant of spiral staircases. He had a beautiful grand spiral staircase in his home which he designed and built himself. He built two others, one in a friend’s home and one for his mother-in-law.
The guy wasn’t a carpenter, wasn’t a mathematician, but he sure could build spiral staircases.
There was a spiral staircase in the house where I was living in 2010–2011. I had rented the basement, and the staircase was open except for a chained gate at the top. My landlady (a dental hygienist who invariably locked herself in her bedroom when she came home from work and smoked pot all evening) owned two huge pit bulls. The dogs would sit quietly at the top of the stairs and stare at my cat, who stared back from down below.
One day I went upstairs to work in the kitchen and forgot to put the chain on the gate. The dogs went after my cat and literally scared the piss out of him. I found him hiding in the broom closet afterwards. (He was okay, just very frightened.)
Double and even triple stairways (for the servants, in some case) were common in many old homes in and around Boston when I was growing up. No, my family wasn’t rich, more like “educated” (actually, literally) which put us in the in crowd (as it were) in those days. Nowadays, those neighborhoods, cities and towns are gentrified literally beyond recognition; and in nearly every one of them the residents are rich AND high educated, but in ways very difficult from the relatively classical-genteel era I grew up in, and that wasn’t a million years ago (postwar).
I had a patient once when I was doing my residency on the inpatient ward. She witnessed her father push her mother down the stairs with death as a result. Dad was sentenced based on her testimony. She was fourteen at the time.
She was probably f*cked up before that already, but I’m sure this didn’t help. So unfortunately this does happen. Not sure how often, though.
