HBO confirming that The Pitt is coming back in January and that their going to keep this as close to network tv as possible; giving the actors a few months break before going back to filming. Is giving me hope that streaming services are realising that making audiences wait literal years between seasons is not working.
your stitches are good, but not the best - your hands are twitching to the beat of your heart. but they're going to be perfect soon, whether you want them to be or not.
It would be SO EASY to make Pern another planet that got cut off from the Nexus by wormhole collapse. Or to have been colonized before wormhole navigation was even a thing, because they did indeed plan to be cut off.
But can you imagine everyone discovering that dragons can inherently navigate five-dimensionally.
Sadly incomplete but there is an existing Pern/VK Saga crossover:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/22642585/chapters/54117073
Thank you for this rec! Reading this 380K monster ate up my weekend and although it’s not finished yet there have been recently chapters posted so it is still alive!
Always happy to plug another writer's fic! Especially in smaller fandoms like VK Saga.
Coincidentally this was updated not long after I made the recommendation. The magic of Tumblr!
It's like people have forgotten what generosity is.
Well, fuck me sideways. Connections have been made.
My girlfriend has this specific gesture she does sometimes, a very particular way of turning her wrist around and locking her fingers in one specific grip. Fast or slow, the angle of her wrist and the rhythm of the movement are always exactly the same, and at this point I've learned to recognize the motion well enough that she could do it with her back towards me and I know she's doing it.
The first time I saw her do it I thought she was putting something into her pocket, but once I noticed her making it more often I started making connections. I saw her doing it unconsciously when some situation in the house is getting tense - not during the casual sparring arguments with my other housemates, but the serious fights where shit is about to actually get fucking real - and I figured that it's a nervous thing, she doesn't like where this is going and it's scaring her. So that became my cue that it's time to back down.
I don't know when she noticed that I noticed her doing it. We've never talked about it, but at some point she started doing it on purpose, as her way of telling me that I should stop causing problems. Rotating her hand slowly means she's seeing a problem brewing and it's better that I watch myself before I start escalating it, and a quick flick and snap means whatever I was just about to say or do, I should cut that shit out right this fucking second. It works for some reason, so I've respected that.
My girlfriend does some volunteering favors for the neighbors here sometimes. Today she asked if I wanted to come along to walk this one old couple's dog, and I was feeling up for it so I went along. My father was terrified of dogs so I'm not familiar with them, but her family has always had them.
So we were walking, talking about something else, enjoying the nice weather for once, when my girlfriend saw another dog walker approaching. I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, but the other dog walker started pulling the dog back with this roller leash thing whatever the fuck they're called. And then the old couples' dog started growling.
With the familiarity of someone who's been handling dogs all her life my girlfriend grabbed the little fucker's leash, wrapping it around the width of her palm and gripping it to pull the dog closer a second before it could bolt to attack. A move she's probably done countless times in her life, that she could do in her sleep, by instinct, without ever even thinking about it. A gesture I've learned to fucking spot from across the room from the corner of my eye. That exact same fucking twirl and grip. I have no idea if she noticed me noticing it or making the connection.
She's fucking learned to pull my fucking leash back when I'm about to start shit.
Gonna perform a miracle of cissubstantiation and turn bread into bread
Drink of this wine, for it is wine
they should let you put footnotes on your blocklist so you remember what the final straw was
A man is driving down the road and breaks down near a monastery. He goes to the monastery, knocks on the door, and says, “My car broke down. Do you think I could stay the night?” The monks graciously accept him, feed him dinner, even fix his car. As the man tries to fall asleep, he hears a strange sound. The next morning, he asks the monks what the sound was, but they say, “We can’t tell you. You’re not a monk.” The man is disappointed but thanks them anyway and goes about his merry way. Some years later, the same man breaks down in front of the same monastery. The monks accept him, feed him, even fix his car. That night, he hears the same strange noise that he had heard years earlier. The next morning, he asks what it is, but the monks reply, “We can’t tell you. You’re not a monk.” The man says, “All right, all right. I’m *dying* to know. If the only way I can find out what that sound was is to become a monk, how do I become a monk?” The monks reply, “You must travel the earth and tell us how many blades of grass there are and the exact number of sand pebbles. When you find these numbers, you will become a monk.” The man sets about his task. Forty-five years later, he returns and knocks on the door of the monastery. He says, “I have traveled the earth and have found what you have asked for. There are 145,236,284,232 blades of grass and 231,281,219,999,129,382 sand pebbles on the earth.” The monks reply, “Congratulations. You are now a monk. We shall now show you the way to the sound.” The monks lead the man to a wooden door, where the head monk says, “The sound is right behind that door.” The man reaches for the knob, but the door is locked. He says, “Real funny. May I have the key?” The monks give him the key, and he opens the door. Behind the wooden door is another door made of stone. The man demands the key to the stone door. The monks give him the key, and he opens it, only to find a door made of ruby. He demands another key from the monks, who provide it. Behind that door is another door, this one made of sapphire. So it went until the man had gone through doors of emerald, silver, topaz, and amethyst. Finally, the monks say, “This is the last key to the last door.” The man is relieved to no end. He unlocks the door, turns the knob, and behind that door he is amazed to find the source of that strange sound. But I can’t tell you what it is because you’re not a monk
BWAHAHAHAHAH.
the way i learned this, it was always told through spoken word. And you’d do the door thing for ages. AGES. literally just making up any old material. ‘behind the foam door is a door made of spinach’ that kind of shit. Go on until whoever is listening has already begged you to stop and has now gone on to pleading, clutching your shirt on their knees pleading. And when you finally said the last line? People went fucking nuts Like there was a good chance of just getting the teeth knocked out of you after telling that joke.
A friend of mine did that shit for 30 minutes on a camp once. The entire fucking bus just exploded in anger when she finished. It was a fucking massacre.
My favorite goes-on-forever story is a shaggy dog-ish story. (I’ll give you the brief rendition because I’m a pussy.)
So early in the day, this librarian is working the front desk, and a chicken approaches her. They stare at each other for a second, and then the chicken says, “Book!”
“You want a book?” She asks. The chicken nods persuasively, “Book!! Book!”
So the librarian selects one of the shorter ‘Staff Picks’ novels from the front display, scans and stamps it checked out, and hands it to the chicken, who nods solemn thanks and takes the book away.
A few hours later, the librarian is about to go on lunch when the chicken comes back, carrying the novel it checked out earlier. The chicken shuffles the book into the return slot with a cute little fluffle and comes to stand before the librarian once more.
It regards her expectantly for a moment, then prompts, “Book!”
“You already finished the other one?” the librarian asks curiously, because she doesn’t mean to make assumptions, but she’s never met a chicken who could read before.
“Book!” urges the chicken, hopping lightly on its scaly toes in clear eagerness.
“Well, okay,” says the librarian with a smile, warming to her task. She steps away from the desk and returns with a several-hundred-page tome by Wally Lamb (you can pick your own damn books— I’m picking this!) and holds it up for the chicken to see. The bird gives one decisive nod, so she scans and stamps it and hands it to the chicken, who takes it and leaves.
A little before the librarian’s shift ends, the chicken is back again. It slips the Wally Lamb book, which, again, is several hundred pages, into the book return and then comes to stand before the desk once more.
“Book! Book!”
“Wow, um, okay. Hang on just a second…” So she heads deep into the stacks, deliberating madly. (My friend always said she returns with Dostoyevsky, but I’m going with George RR Martin, because I’m an ignorant slacker who’s never read any fucking Dostoyevsky.) The point is, this book is a concrete block. It’s huge. It’s heavy. It really might be too much for the chicken to carry, much less read from cover to cover in a single afternoon. But she shows the book to the chicken, who gives one nod, and she checks the book out.
She watches the chicken head off into the dusk, and she just can’t deal with it anymore. “Barbie, I’m off!” she calls to her co-worker, and snagging her purse from the drawer under the counter, she hurries off into the crepuscular glory and freedom of the evening. She’s a little out of breath when she catches sight of the chicken boarding a bus, but she climbs on too, pays for the ride, and heads to the seats in the middle of the bus, keeping a surreptitious eye on the chicken, who’s sitting in those front seats that face the aisle.
The chicken takes the bus all the way across town to the last stop, and the librarian follows the bird, at a distance. They walk for a pretty long time, chicken scurrying along a hundred yards or so ahead of the librarian, unaware it’s being observed. She follows it to the edge of town and out of it. Keeps walking down the country road and turns off after the chicken onto a dirt track, rutted with tires tracks. The sky above them is a bright blaze of orange and peach and hot magenta, and the weeds whisper beside the track. It’s a lovely evening.
Another mile or so and the librarian is getting a little tired. The chicken must be exhausted, carrying that RR Martin Dostoyevsky whatever brick. She’s taken aback when the bird veers off the dirt track into the deep weeds, and for a trepidatious second, she’s afraid she’s lost it, after all that, but no, there is a path here, a little deer path that cuts through tall weeds and into the woods.
Over the next half-hour, the librarian catches glimpses of the chicken just ahead her as they follow the little path deep into the woods and the last bright of evening begins to soften around them. It’s nearly dark when the chicken ahead of her emerges into a clearing and marches determinedly down to the edge of a small, still pond. The bird kicks a few small pebbles into the water, sending ripples off into the gloom, and waits. The librarian waits too, concealed behind the last large tree at the edge of the woods.
Perhaps a minute later, a large bullfrog emerges from the murk and hoppets a couple of little hops to bring it quite close to the chicken, who looks unfazed. It’s a huge bullfrog, and in the dim, it’s impossible to read its expression.
When the frog is settled quite near the bird, the chicken presents the heavy burden it’s lugged across the city. The librarian leans a little nearer, waiting breathlessly.
“Book! Book!” says the chicken.
The frog, sounding bored, says, “Read-it.”
(Pronounced, “Reddit,” obviously.)
My favorite will always be the one about the boy getting ready for prom where every step of the way he has to wait in a horrifically long line. Buying tickets? Line. Renting a tux? Line. Making a dinner reservation, buying flowers, renting a limo? Huge lines are described in too much detail, so the listener is getting ready to assault the storyteller. Finally, the boy and his date arrive at prom (probably after waiting in a really long line at the door), and he offers to get them some punch. Against all odds, there was NO punchline.
If you draw it out long enough and set up that you’re telling a really good joke from the start, you might actually see the moment someone’s soul leaves their body at the end of that one.
[gif: zooming in on Hades from Disney’s Hercules, who is abruptly enraged enough that first the cigar he’s smoking starts burning much faster, going from recently lit to all ashes in moments, and then his entire face (and likely also his already-flaming hair now out of frame) goes from a light blue that doesn’t emit light to glowing red.]
i think about this post a lot
Bad news :/ Bava Kamma 21b:12 says the following:
תָּנוּ רַבָּנַן: הַכֶּלֶב וְהַגְּדִי שֶׁדִּלְּגוּ מִמַּטָּה לְמַעְלָה – פְּטוּרִין. מִלְּמַעְלָה לְמַטָּה – חַיָּיבִין. אָדָם וְתַרְנְגוֹל שֶׁדִּלְּגוּ; בֵּין מִלְּמַעְלָה לְמַטָּה, בֵּין מִלְּמַטָּה לְמַעְלָה – חַיָּיבִין.
The Sages taught in a baraita: If a dog or a goat jumped from below to something that was above them and thereby caused damage, their owners are exempt, as this is atypical behavior. But if they jumped from above to below, their owners are liable to pay the full cost of any damage they cause, as this is typical behavior. If a person or a chicken jumped and broke something, regardless of whether they jumped from above to below or from below to above, they are liable.
So we learn here that jumping from low to high (such as when making a layup or slam-dunk) is considered atypical behavior for a dog. Such behavior can't be reasonably anticipated, and any damage it may incur (such as points scored against an opposing team) is considered merely accidental. I believe this would in fact invalidate Air-Bud's baskets. Now if they got a chicken to play basketball...
"showing this to a medieval peasant" this "showing this to a victorian urchin" that. i'm introducing the sages of ancient judea to dog showjumping
Some Like It Hot (1959) dir. Billy Wilder
#someone pointed out once that he chose his female name because he liked it#whereas the other man just picked the female version of his existing name#because it was easier and that was his main concern#lot of interesting gender stuff going on here
Oh yeah there was a lot of "Hayes Code be damned, all of us making this film are queer/friends with queers and we're going to have some fun with gender identity" in this film. That's why it still holds up. It's not a story based around getting a laugh out of dressing men up as women so they can be clowns - there's an integrity to the cross-dressing. Daphne is an identity Jerry realized he had when he put on a dress. Every time he chooses to keep his wig and outfit on and maintain his feminine mannerisms while alone with Joe, it shows his comfort in this identity, and it elicits laughter from the audience through the dialogue, ie. the audience isn't laughing at the fact that a man is in a dress, but at the characters as fleshed out characters and human beings. The laughter comes from the situations the characters are put in and their reactions to them, not from a parody of womanhood presented through a male perspective. Similarly, Osgood's classic line at the end of the film is an affirmation that he likes Jerry as he is, even if he's Daphne. It's a way of getting the audience to say, "this is fine, we're comfortable" through laughter to something socially unacceptable in its time.
Joe's masculine identity, meanwhile, is used to highlight his misogyny and force him to understand it (and the same with Jerry, but as he's less of a womanizer, there's less of a point to be made with him). In a world where men and women often had separate social circles that overlapped only when romance was on the table, putting a man like Joe in a female space where he's privy to the conversations and emotions that his actions elicit gives him a lot to contend with and understand because he can see the consequences of his actions as raw pain and secondhand, instead of as anger being spewed directly at him. Again, the joke isn't that he's a man in a dress, or that he's parodying womanhood, it's that as a selfish misogynist he's put in situations where he's forced to empathize with the experience of womanhood in order to convincingly enact it for his own safety.
There's a whole lot more to unpack in the metaphor of these two men having to pass as women because their lives are at stake if they don't.
Okay so for one of my screenwriting and film studies sections I wrote a paper comparing the language of clothing and feminism from Wilder in two of his films, The Apartment and Some Like it Hot.
Now I am not going to spew out a wall of text on the subject or anything, but I did want to point out that he did not just "sneak things by" the code, he actually deliberately REFUSED to abide by it at all for this film, he willfully refused to even apply for the certification, he knew it wouldn't pass, and he knew he wouldn't bend to let it pass.
He and the studio took a gamble that a Wilder-Curtis-Lemmon-Monroe flick would do box office and get play without the "seal of approval" from the code folks.
And he was right.
For those of you that may have just finished watching Cory Booker’s record-breaking senate speech and are inspired to “get in good trouble”, you have a great opportunity for it this Saturday!
On April 5th, numerous advocacy groups are banding together into one nation-wide rally that will be held in major cities all over the country - you can easily find a participating location here!
I’ll be volunteering as a safety captain at my own local rally, and I encourage all of you to go out there too and get in some good trouble as well!
for the record when I say a lot of major cities I mean a LOT of major cities :P
UM GUYS. I JUST NOTICED A CRAZY ISSUE W THE TUMBLR UPDATE.
YOU CAN SEE THE ICONS OF ANONS SOMETIMES.
The way I was able to recognize several anons in one of my inboxes bc of this error. Oh my god. Guys. This isn’t supposed to happen.
Weighing in to say:
The profile pictures I see next to anon asks are profile pictures that belong to other, non-anon asks in my ask box also. Some info
Which is still a bad bug! Considering it makes it look like a long-time follower of mine sent me a spam ask.
And is worse if, say, one of these was anon hate.
But it's NOT the anon's real identity. It's a neighboring ask asker's identity
So if you have anon hate in your inbox that looks like it's attributed to your dear friend, who sends you lovely asks all the time, it was Not them.
Thanks @thepatchycat for being a test subject. As you can see the icon being attributed to this ask is NOT the patchy cat
The pictured icon belongs to @watchingforcomets who sent me a nice ask about nail polish yesterday which I have not yet answered!
Cory Booker is reading letters from his constituents and tearing up repeatedly and it’s making me cry.
Yes -- in case anyone thought their calls and letters don't matter, Cory Booker has launched a protest marathon speech on the Senate floor and is reading letters directly from his constituents. Their voices and words gave him something to share on the Senate floor directly from the American people.
I intend to call my senators tomorrow and let them know that I've heard about this, and will be sending them letters as well so THEY can speak up for their constituents, because I expect them to speak up.
as of this morning, tues. 4/1/25, the speech is still going, with booker only stopping to take questions from democrats. here is a link to a NYT article about it, in which they quote him as saying:
“In just 71 days, the president of the United States has inflicted so much harm on Americans’ safety, financial stability, the core foundations of our democracy and even our aspirations as a people for — from our highest offices — a sense of common decency…These are not normal times in America, and they should not be treated as such.”
here is a link to the livestream of the speech on senator booker’s youtube. the live chat when i last checked it was filled with supportive comments as well.
Still going. Still coherent, somehow! His staff did an insane amount of research to prep him for this.
I love speed runners
to those asking: welcome to restaurant%, where you help ganondorf rebuild his life as a humble restaurant owner by building a restaurant around him as fast as possible without getting murked
I saw this video the other day! If it’s not immediately obvious, the “booth” is made out of indestructible parts, and enclosing Ganon in them breaks his AI so he no longer attacks.
This is genuinely the best speedrun challenge I've ever seen. I will think of nothing else for weeks, probably.
