I'm a professional geek, and this is where I come for my daily doses of fandom squee, cute stuff, and social justice. I post original content elsewhere online and use this account for an alarming amount of reblogging. You have been warned.
the grasshopper mouse of the southwestern United States looks like a standard house mouse but is almost entirely carnivorous and is known to kill and consume everything from less homicidal mice to goddamn rattlesnakes, which they kill by jumping onto the snake’s back and gnawing through its spine
behold…. a Bastard
How could U fail to mention that this fool marks territory by howling? Yunno. Like a wolf
Oh. Oh I am in love with this bastard wolf mouse.
Hat tip @lookadreygon this is actually my third child (Mouse’s) daemon I think 🤔
the more I hear from the family vlogger kids now reaching adulthood, the more I think about Georgia and Shaun, even though it's been nearly 10 years since I read the series. they've really stuck with me
i’ll never get over how fascinating eliot’s characterization as a hitter. obviously he’s trained- military, hand to hand, weaponry, martial arts- that’s to be expected. but so often I think in media about like. the Best Hitters in this genre and etc they’re characterized by like? not getting hit. they’re sooo good that the avoid every punch and catch every kick in mid air and dodge bullets and etc and that’s not Eliot at all. he lets himself get punched in the face. he gets kicked and bowled over and uses that shift in momentum to his advantage. he gets knocked to the ground and the guys he’s fighting think he’s down for the count for only one moment before Eliot Spencer gets back up. because he always gets back up- but that character trait is Only compelling IF he gets knocked down enough for it to MATTER. and he DOES! and his fighting skills- they’re not innate, they’re not a natural inclination to fighting, its training and knowledge- he can talk about details and styles at length, he can (and does!) teach the others how to take and throw a punch, which speaks even more to his skill and knowledge and ability. he’s the hitter because he’s been doing it so long. because he fights to survive and he isn’t afraid to get hit and lose the fight to win the battle. god. Eliot Spencer. character of all time
It’s like the writers went “The Worf Effect ruins itself if overplayed? Not if our Hitter never actually loses” and they are absolutely correct. As we see with Quinn in the hanger fight, it is almost *more* intimidating that Eliot refuses to stay down than if he never went down in the first place. Other hitters may be good and hit hard, but Eliot knows himself far better. He knows exactly how much punishment he can take, and that he’ll still be able to dish his share out before the end.
Also this, yes, can’t forget this. Hot men with slutty tank tops & hair flips is already good. Add on blood, sweat, and dirt? Top tier. How nice of the Leverage writers to bless us with such delicious eye candy on the regular.
did i tell u guys i got into an argument on twitter bc i said foxes are dogs and someone tried to bring up their actual fuckin. classification or whatever and i just said “foxes are dogs cause they are fluffye” and they kept arguing with me. the entire time i was like “you will not survive the immigration to tumblr you are lucky we are not there right now”
This is especially funny because they aren’t even right. Foxes *ARE* dogs.
okay so i work in the deli of a grocery store, yeah? and today i got this guy who came up with his two twin children, around five years old. he walks up to the counter, carrying one kid in each arm, and loudly goes “oh, no, i forgot what i wanted!” and turns to the boy in his left arm and, in a perfect blues clues style voice, goes “caleb, do you remember what i wanted?” and the boy goes “half pound of yellow cheese!”
i, obviously, say “you’ve got it little sir!” and slice up half a pound of yellow american cheese, handing it to the little boy, who looks it over, nods, and tucks it in his lap.
then the man goes “well, we can’t just have cheese on our sandwiches. but what else can we put on there?” and the little gurl in his other arm goes “half pound of ham!” so i nod and say “yes ma'am! what kind?” and she points at a random cut of turkey, so her father nods and says “like she said, honey ham!” i cut half a pound of honey ham, hand it to the little lady, she looks it over, nods and puts it in her lap.
then the man goes “now, what should we have for the side?” and the kids both simultaneously start cheering “macking cheese!!!” and the man spins on his heel and marches off, presumably to find the macking cheese.
later, the little boy comes wandering back to the counter while his father looks on and loudly and proudly proclaims that he wants to know where the mustard is. i point him to the correct aisle, he nods, says “thank you mister deli woman” and walks away.
I think we, as a general community, need to start taking this little moment more seriously.
This, right here? This is asking for consent. It’s a legal necessity, yes, but it is also you, the reader, actively consenting to see adult content; and in doing so, saying that you are of an age to see it, and that you’re emotionally capable of handling it.
You find the content you find behind this warning disgusting, horrifying, upsetting, triggering? You consented. You said you could handle it, and you were able to back out at any time. You take responsibility for yourself when you click through this, and so long as the creator used warnings and tags correctly, you bear full responsibility for its impact on you.
“Children are going to lie about their age” is probably true, but that’s the problem of them and the people who are responsible for them, not the people that they lie to.
If you’re not prepared to see adult content, created by and for adults, don’t fucking click through this. And if you do, for all that’s holy, don’t blame anyone else for it.
This needs to be reblogged today.
Consenting to see adult content doesn’t mean you should have to see a bunch of shit romanticizing incest and pedophilia you walnut
Except this is the last line of consent before the actual work. So if you’re at this button you have already done the following:
1) chosen to go onto AO3 in the first place
2) chosen the fandom you wish to read about
3) had the chance to filter for the things you do want to see like a specific pairing or a specific AU
4) had the chance to specifically filter out any tags you don’t want to see like, oh I don’t know, incest and non-con and dub-con and paedophilia
5) had the chance to set the rating level if you wish to remove any explicit content at all
6) have read the summary of the story, which aren’t always great but are the only indicator of what the story will be like writing wise so something about it was good enough for you to click on it.
7) have read the tags of the story which will tell you what is actually in the story. If you have used filters to remove stories with things you don’t want then there shouldn’t be anything in here that’s a shock to you but maybe there is. That’s why the tags are there for you to check for yourself.
8) Then you have to actually click on the story. You cannot see anything other than the summary or the tags without personally deciding that you are going to open and read this story.
9) Only here, at step number nine, do you get to the adult content warning pictured above. You have been through eight different steps, the last six of which have also been opportunities for you to see that this has adult content. And AO3 has *STILL* stopped you to ask one last time “are you sure you want to read this because it has things that only adults should see in it”.
If after this point you are reading incest and paedophilia then it’s probably because you specifically went looking for it.
You walnut.
This is the most beautiful thing that I have seen about ao3
Friendships as a teenager: we used to talk 5 hours every night now it’s down to 3… are we still friends 🤔? I wonder if they don’t like me anymore
Friendships as an adult: omg I’ve finally cleared up 20 minutes of my schedule to talk to my friend I haven’t spoken to in 4 months #bffs #we will find eachother in every life
I’m still so taken aback by people in the notes who claimed you need to be talking to people weekly or even daily to consider them your friend. how many people do you know? As an adult I feel like talking every day is sustainable with one person maybe 2 or 3 if your circumstances somehow are really conveniently aligned. yeah there’s people I talk to often there’s also people I don’t talk to for 6 months because there’s no way we’ll be able to coordinate time and energy and I still consider them my friends because this is real life and there isn’t a stardew valley esque hearts system based off of how many interactions we had this month
just fyi by the time youre in your 30s, most of the people you would call to help you cover up a murder are the people you text about twice a year. it’s specifically because you can maintain the relationship on two texts a year that they are your closest friends. the reason everyone’s interpersonal relationships are so unstable in your teens is because everyone’s “best friends” are almost entirely circumstantial. you won’t actually know which of those people are in for the long haul until the relationships have been stress tested by distance, conflict and silence.
As the impending heat death of the internet, our library of alexandria, inches ever closer, here are some resources that will teach you everything you need to know about digital archiving.
Digital preservation is the only process that can and will preserve everything you love that (currently) only exists in the digital realm. It’s not 100% guaranteed to work, but let’s be real—your own painstakingly, personally, manually cultivated digital archive is all you’ll have left ofthe images, blogs, recipes, videos, fics, fanzines, games, servers, forums, articles, peer-reviewed scientific studies, “illegal” musicals and even the friends you found online, when the internet is completely gone.
And yes, you can trust me on this, because I’ve had to help family friends create a personal digital archive of their own. She chose to pay for archiving software in the end, but that’s not important.
The basics of/anticipating potential roadblocks to adequate digital preservation:
What to expect from the quality of your digital archive in the future:
Also! Fun fact: you can download the files that make up your entire tumblr blog!
ALT
Any additional resources you have or know of would be greatly appreciated, so please don’t hesitate to share them.
Please spread this post so that it finds the people who need it the most right now.
My mom accidentally joined a grieving support group (long story, she’s not grieving tho) and she’s missing it this week while visiting me and she’s VERY concerned that Lorraine, who very kindly offered to bring a baked good like mom usually would, will NOT bring the correct kind of dessert, she says citrus tarts aren’t “griefy” enough
ok so the way my mom accidentally joined a grieving support group when she’s not grieving is this:
She’s Catholic and has two churches. One is her Real Church but it’s far from her house and tbh all the nice priests have died and the new priests are either lackluster or extremely conservative so sometimes she goes to the Other Church which is closer and more liberal but which she won’t join permanently because she doesn’t want to “cede the territory” of her Real Church to the conservatives (this is all backstory for flavor don’t worry about it). Other Church once announced they were looking for volunteers for, like, a grief squad? Basically if someone was having a funeral but no one showed up to attend, the church would call in the squad and they’d mourn for the dead person and pray (which is important for Catholics because we believe you need that oomph to actually get to Heaven, don’t worry about it). Anyway mom thought that was a nice concept so the next time she went back to Real Church she asked the head usher if they wanted to put together a similar squad there. The usher was like, oh we have one of those! It’s every Wednesday night, you should join.
The miscommunication: the usher didn’t understand the purpose of the squad mom was describing, just heard “grieving and mourning” and went to the next closest thing. Because my mom showed up to the Wednesday meeting and discovered a group of widows and widowers who are there to, like, discuss their own losses?
Why didn’t my mom just leave when she realized the mistake? Great question. She had baked a cake (chocolate) thinking that would be appreciated (apparently funerals without real mourners are very short and boring) and she didn’t want it to go to waste.
She stayed in the support group!! And has been attending! For a full YEAR.
She explained to the group leader that she isn’t a widow and doesn’t have anyone to grieve but all they said was “well everyone’s lost somebody. Or will.” So now my mom goes to the weekly meeting with her baked goods because she 1) doesn’t want to be rude and leave the group and 2) apparently grieving people are the Most happy to get cookies so she gets to practice all these bonkers recipes shes wanted to try.
In mom’s opinion the best kinds of dessert for grief is chocolate and caramel, or any kind of crunchy candy confection. Lemon and cream is “not mournful enough.” She’s absolutely wild I love her
People are like “these animals have exoskeletons and these ones have endoskeletons” but no. It’s all exoskeletons, your exoskeleton is protecting your bone marrow which is where your soul (which is you) is. The rest of the stuff is extraneous decoration that Big Pharma wants you to think is important/
Why do you think there’s so few ghosts around? Why are most ghosts
people who died violently? You gotta crack the bones to let the soul
out. Most souls are trapped alone in the dark and silent ground (or
teaching hospitals) for hundreds or thousands of years until the bones
eventually start to break. People who are cremated get their whole soul
released and it can reincarnate. But if someone dies violently then
maybe only a couple of their bones are cracked and a little scrap of the
soul escapes but it’s incomplete and confused. Can’t figure out how to
leave, gets obsessed with its own circumstances, repeats actions, CANNOT
be reasoned with. PROOF that the soul is in the marrow.
See I know what I’m talking about.
Sin is stored in the teeth btw which is why young children are innocent (they’ll get a do-over with replacement teeth) and the elderly are shameless (once you have no teeth to remember your sins, you have nothing to fear).
Upon review I think that maybe vodka isn’t for me.
Okay, so. Yesterday, my spouse’s cat (my beloved, furry stepdaughter) was suddenly very sick. Spouse had the car on the opposite end of the state for work, so I walked down the road to the local vet. Unfortunately, she needed to be rushed to the emergency vet in the next town over, so I had to order an Uber and cross my fingers.
Enter Donald, a gay Puerto Rican man who rolls up in an electric Kia with a rainbow Zelda shirt. I know he is Puerto Rican because that is the theme of his car’s decor. He’s probably in his late forties. He’s gushing over the cat but his demeanor changes when I tell him how sick she is and how I need to get her to the ER. He solemnly informs me, “I’ll take care of it,” and RIPS out of the parking lot of my building.
Dude is flooring it. The entire time he is sending his husband text-to-speech messages about, “Going to the vet, do you want me to go in and talk to them?” He informs me that he actually needed to go speak to the vet at this clinic anyway–his dog who he just had to put down yesterday went there for renal failure treatments–and that “fate brought us together.” He tells the cat to hang in there, that, “Girl, I will take care of you.”
He turns on his emergency blinkers. He’s weaving through traffic like he used to professionally race. Any gap he sees, he takes it. It is terrifying but I am in awe.
We get to blocked traffic because it is rush hour. He asks me if I trust him. I tell him, “I guess I have to in this situation,” and he nods and swings into the shoulder, guns it, whips around the traffic, and takes off on a side road. The GPS means nothing to him. He knows exactly where he’s going and he is beating the traffic jams for the sake of the cat. She can’t wait.
When we pull into the vet clinic, he goes in with me. As my cat is taken in, he asks me if I want to see pictures of his late dog. He shows me a picture of a chihuahua in a bow tie and it is the cutest fucking dog I’ve ever seen. He tells me how his husband is a dog trainer and the dog had been around the world, and that this vet is a good one and my cat will be fine.
I compliment his shirt and he nods like Arnold at the end of Terminator 2. Then he just marches out the door.
Anyway. The cat is staying overnight at the emergency vet but seems to be doing fine aside from not wanting to eat. Apparently, this is a $2.5k case of “your cat has a cold and is constipated, and what you thought was respiratory distress was her gagging on snot while nauseous.” We pick her up sometime today.
Wherever you are, thank you, Donald. My spouse left you a tip higher than the cost of the trip because you are awesome and your dedication to our cat was inspiring. 10/10, I would endanger myself on the road with you again.
ALT
