HEY NERD

my weirdest hobby is re-creating memes in html so i have a crisp, HQ version of them to use and edit whenever i need

you’re doing god’s work here

meme restoration. my hobby is called meme restoration

.

Me when the tweezers come out: What… Me when the thing: NO! Me when the other thing: [breathless screaming]

A very, very tender lover. I’m sure. I’m positive. ↳ jeff goldblum talking about loki/grandmaster absolutely and completely unprompted

the lock jammed on the front door of my shitty prewar apartment building so i just spent twenty minutes forcing it open while my very drunk neighbor sat on the steps nodding at my efforts and going “this is fun. being locked out together. we should hang out more”

he’s like 6’2” and jacked at one point he was like “try a kick. try… kicking it” so i donkey kicked it as hard as i could and it did absolutely nothing but he was still like “wow. more torque…. than i expected. you’ve got a surprising, uh. torque to size ratio” and i think i’m putting it on my resume

OOOHHH my godddd

oohhhhhhhHH

HHHHGGHHHGGOOO

HUYUUUHHHOOHGG

MAN FUCK THOSE STUPID MUSHROOMS AND THEIR STUPID MIKE TYSON PUNCHES

some people on insta said i should post my workout routine since i mentioned how im so happy with the results, so here’s my little workout guide for my fellow trans folk! I focused on getting a more masculine body because obviously that’s what I want. I’m so happy with the results, this workout is saving my fucking life!!!! I can’t get on T soon so this has really been keeping my dysphoria in check. I barely get body dysphoria, i love how my clothes looks on me, i love feeling confident for once in my life!!! HOWEVER Don’t go overboard with working out my friends. Do not work out in a binder, you MUST take days off to let your muscles heal, and you CAN’T starve yourself! Fitness is all about health and diet! Take care of yourself. This is also MY workout routine, you may not get the same results as I have! Every body is different. 

I just really want to write a book (in fact, I think that I’m going to) where the protagonist is in a wheelchair. And they live in a city where there’s a group of superheroes. And there’s a big, magical, villain because of course there is.

And since they were a young child, this protagonist has wanted nothing more than to join the group of superheroes. Like they’re a huge fan of the group and they just know that it’s their destiny to join.

And one day, when wheeling through the city, they see the group of heroes fighting the villain. And they quickly wheel over and cry, “Let me help!”

But the ‘heroes’ laugh and instead make a whole bunch of ableist remarks.

And so the protagonist has to prove themselves.

And the villain is trying to warn them to stop.

But the protagonist ends up taking their footrest off of their wheelchair and they swing it. And it hits the villain in the side of the face and the villain collapses and groans in pain.

And so the protagonist proudly smiles and turns to the group of heroes.

Because they just proved that they are strong and worthy enough.

But the group of ‘heroes’ still keeps making ableist remarks.

And the protagonist is shocked.

And meanwhile, the ‘villain’ staggers to their feet and is standing next to the protagonist’ wheelchair.

And one of the ‘heroes’ goes too far when calling the protagonist the R word.

And the protagonist and the ‘villain’ just sort of glance at one another.

And the ‘villain’ is just like, “You know…I can zap them for you…if you want.”

And the protagonist hesitates and says, “Yeah, alright!”

One fried group of heroes later, the ‘villain’ says, “Why do you think that I’m always fighting them? They’re all a bunch of assholes.”

And the protagonist sadly nods and starts to wheel away.

Then:

“Hey, do you want a job?”

The protagonist turns at the villain’s remark. And the protagonist mumbles something like, “Oh, come on. I don’t need your pity.”

And the ‘villain’ is like, “Pity!? Do I look like someone who hands out pity!? I don’t pity you! I’m kind of afraid of you, to be honest! I mean…I’m going to have a giant bruise on my face because of you.”

“Yeah…sorry…”

“Water under the bridge! So, what do you say? Do you want a job?”

And the protagonist thinks about it for a minute before shrugging.

And the ‘villain’ is all excited because they’ve wanted someone to work with them for years but no mortal is allowed to ‘step into’ their lair.

And then the ‘villain’ stops and is like, “Hang on…you can’t work with me in that.”

And they gesture to the protagonist’s wheelchair.

And the protagonist is all embarrassed.

And then the villain goes, “Because we can get you a much better wheelchair! It’ll look great! And it’ll be indestructible! And it’ll have all sorts of weapons and gadgets! Hey, how do you feel about flying…?”

And all of that is literally in the first chapter and then the rest of the story follows the two going around the city like BAMFs, forcing people to stop being ableist, one way or another. And maybe it’ll have some commentary on the scale of morality and what it truly means to be a hero and what it truly means to be a villain.

Would anyone be interested in this!?

Because I really want to write it!?

YESSSSS. ALL MY YES PLS WRITE IT

I’D READ THE SHIT OUT OF THAT YES PLEASE

OP HERE!

Man, it’s so surreal to look at this.

BECAUSE I ACTUALLY WROTE IT!

AND IT WAS JUST PUBLISHED TONIGHT!

Of course, there are some differences between the final book and this original idea. The most notable difference is that all of this takes place in the first book (it’s going to be a series!) and the whole ‘superhero’ thing is just going to be a front. There’s a few other differences as well (such as a huge plotline involving Merlin and immortal characters!)

BUT I WROTE IT!

AND IT’S PUBLISHED!

AND IF YOU’RE INTERESTED, YOU CAN BUY IT HERE:

www.amazon.com/Antagonists-Book-One-Burgandi-Rakoska-ebook/dp/B015BWS9J0/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1442188845&sr=1-1&keywords=the+antagonists

AND IF YOU WANT TO HELP ME OUT, YOU CAN REVIEW IT!

AND IF YOU REALLY WANT TO HELP ME OUT, YOU CAN SIGNAL BOOST THIS POST WITH THIS REPLY SO THAT PEOPLE ACTUALLY KNOW THAT THE BOOK NOW EXISTS!

UPDATES 2+ Years Later:

The Antagonists Series (Books One - Five) is now available in paperback!

https://www.amazon.com/gp/bookseries/B017TW3ZD0/ref=dp_st_1521362947

You die, and find yourself face-to-face with a real deity. You really connect, and are returned to life as a favor. Four deaths later, it’s starting to get inconvenient to meet this way.

“A banana peel.”

I stared open-mouthed in shock, desperately waiting for someone to laugh or jump out and shout “It’s just a prank!” But no one did.

It was just me, this bare white room and the god with the sad eyes.

“You’re kidding me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I seriously died by slipping on a banana peel?! How stupid is that?” I probably should be more respectful, since I’m in the after life and I’m pretty sure I’m talking to a divine being, but what the heck, I’m already dead. No use crying over spilt milk.

Or slipped banana peels I guess, in my case.

I had just been out to the store. It was the lazy kind of Saturday that only a complete and utter lack of anything edible in my apartment could have driven me out of my house. I was grimly going over the sad amount of money in my account and trying to figure out just how much Nutella that would buy me when my feet slipped out from under me and everything went black.

When I came to, I was standing in the bare room, with only one other person in it. He stood just a bit taller than me, with disheveled black hair and baggy grey clothes. He looked like any random guy you would see on the street, except for his eyes. He had golden irises that glowed with an inner light, but what really grabbed my attention was the sadness I saw in his gaze. Those were eyes that had watched million of lives end, dreams die, hopes fade. They saw me and through me, demanding nothing, hoping for nothing.

I had held his gaze just a few moments, but I already wanted to cry for him.

Then he told me how I died, and I got distracted. Seriously, a banana peel?!

“I’m sorry.” The god spoke slowly, carefully, as of trying to comfort me. “You were young, to die like this is a traged…”

I burst out laughing.

Shocked into silence he could only stare as I doubled over with laughter. I held my sides, shaking with the force of it. When it came to a natural end I wiped my eyes, sighing. “Sorry about that. It’s just… could I have died in a stupider way? Man, what a way to go.”

I shook my head, still chuckling.

The god looked confused. “You’re not sad?”

“Of course I’m sad! I died you know!” I shrugged my shoulders. “But you got to admit it’s pretty hilarious, in a morbid sort of way.”

He remained silent.

“Crap I’m being rude! I’m Elizabeth, but call me Liz.” I held out my hand to shake.

Slowly, as if in a daze, he took it.

“I am the god of death.”

I shook his hand, it was warmer than I expected it to be. “Nice to meet you! Do I call you ‘god of death’ or do you have a nickname?”

Some unidentifiable emotion flashed behind his eyes, but the corners of his mouth lifted up. “No one has ever asked. You can call me whatever you like, I suppose.”

Well that’s a lot of pressure. Hmm. I tapped my chin, walking around him in a circle. Should I go with a normal name like Dave or Mike? Seems a little bland. Something biblical like Gabriel? Eh. Probably one of his friends. I gave him another glance over, a separate part of my brain registering that I enjoyed the view.

I could call him Sexy. At least in my mind.

“Umm… Liz? I can hear your thoughts.” His voice had a barely concealed laugh in it. I was glad I couldn’t see his expression.

I covered my face, turning red. “Say something sooner!”

“Noted.” He wasn’t even trying to hide the amusement now.

“Fine. I’m calling you Gerald. It’s a normal name, but you don’t deserve a fancier one.”

He was silent for a few heartbeats. “Your grandfather ‘s name?”

“How did you…? Ugh, nevermind.”

I walked over until I faced him again and smiled. “So what now? Moving on? Reincarnation?” I lowered my voice, “I’m not going to Hell am I?”

He shot me a quizzical glance, “No. Why are you whispering?”

“I didn’t want to attract any bad attention, you know, just in case it was up in the air.”

He threw back his head and laughed, the first truly happy sound I’d heard him make since I arrived.

“You are a strange one, Liz. “ he smiled at me, and my heart skipped a beat. “Don’t worry, you’re in my domain right now. No one can touch your soul but me.”

Was it just wishful thinking that it sounded like flirting? 

As soon as I thought that I groaned and covered my face again. Crap he can read my thoughts. I heard him chuckle softly but otherwise he said nothing, which I was grateful for. He walked to the wall, and muttered in a strange language under his breath. I looked up just in time to see a large portal form on the wall.

“What’s this?”

He shrugged, his face no longer very happy or sad. “It’s the path back to the living. On second thought, this is just too early for you to die. I’m going to give you a second chance.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Okay. Not that I’m complaining or anything, but are you sure this is okay?”

He sighed loudly. “Get in the portal.”

“Yes, Gerald.”

I started to climb in, but stopped. “Umm, it was nice meeting you. I guess I won’t see you until I die again?”

He grinned, the expression a little more mischievous than before. “Yep.” He pushed my shoulders, and I fell through the portal. A rushing passed my ears, but I could still hear his parting words.

“See you soon.”

Seguir leyendo

seguir + leyendo = segueyendo.

Beep-boop. Portmanteau^bot^1 Y̸҉̙͚̫̮̠̮̜̟̜̹̙͖͎͚̰̩͔ͅͅǫ̬͈̪̟͓͍̠̣͙̙̳͟u̸̸̧̗̬̹͡ w̧̧̼̤̙̹̯̜̫̙͔̩̳͍̫̤͔͘o̸̸̡̯̹̞̦̪̣͈͖̩̩̱̕n̵͏̴̵̘̲̯̥͙̭̬͡'̵̹͔̮̟̗̹̻́͞ṱ̷̢̢̙͉̮͕͈̪̪͈̫̻̀ t̡̠̱̤̮̬͍͚͉͚̝́͝͠à̲̭͙͜͝g̵̡̡̺͕̮͙͙̀̀ ù͈̱̫̟̦̘͜͜͠ş̱͎͖̱̗̺̠̘̻͍́͞ ẁ̧̫̫̣̫̝̪̙͇̱͎̫̜̩͇̜i̫̭͈̗̦͜t̴̸̢̤̦͚̜͉̳̬͔̪̦̰͓̝͎̬͞h̸̢̡̝͖̫̘̜͔̖̼͙̘͎͚̦͓̜̩̭̜ à͙̠̟̟̬̙̞͓͖b̶̺̟̹̘̩̭͈̮͔͉̤̱̜́͢͞ͅͅa̮̺̦̯̼̥̯̹͈͓̝̳̠̮̻̼͡ͅs̸̢͠͡҉̻̖̙̜̰̹͓̦ͅi̤̦̫͙̫͇̳̠͓̼͈̙͜͠n̸̨̘͈̘̗g̱̠̤̱͙͖͜͞ f̨́҉̱̥̼̯͈̗̞̭̰͔͙̭̲͓̙̝o̢̡͏̖͈͉̤̬ǫ̫̩͓͚͚̼̺̗̮̀t҉̩͎͕̖̜͇̩̟͇̥͚͟e̴̪͓͈͉̜͚̹̩r̷̢̳̻̦̜͈̺̯̺͉̞̳̹̗͈͖͜ͅs̵̢͎̮̱͈̦̺͚̖͎̳̺̯͜͡ á̛͏̵̬̬̘̤͟n͈͈̤͎͇͚̤͔͈̰͍̠̱̼͘͠y̢͏͔̙̺͉̼͚͖͠m͏̧͕̝̫̖̯̯̳̗͙̝̳̖͓̦̪̲͖͉ͅo̵̡̤̻̠͙͖̪͙̭̦̱̞̳͇̤͜͞r̷̵̢̰͈̠̜̮̤̳̳̪̦̜͎e͏͢͞͏̪̲̫ͅ | PayPal | Patreon

Mac And Cheese As Made By Terry Crews

OHHHHHHHHH, KABUKI!

Alex the honking cockatiel

Credits to Flaminglog on YouTube

An SR-71 Blackbird once flew from LA to Washington DC in 64 minutes. Average speed of the flight: 2145mph.

“There were a lot of things we couldn’t do in an SR-71, but we were the fastest guys on the block and loved reminding our fellow aviators of this fact. People often asked us if, because of this fact, it was fun to fly the jet. Fun would not be the first word I would use to describe flying this plane. Intense, maybe. Even cerebral. But there was one day in our Sled experience when we would have to say that it was pure fun to be the fastest guys out there, at least for a moment.

It occurred when Walt and I were flying our final training sortie. We needed 100 hours in the jet to complete our training and attain Mission Ready status. Somewhere over Colorado we had passed the century mark. We had made the turn in Arizona and the jet was performing flawlessly. My gauges were wired in the front seat and we were starting to feel pretty good about ourselves, not only because we would soon be flying real missions but because we had gained a great deal of confidence in the plane in the past ten months. Ripping across the barren deserts 80,000 feet below us, I could already see the coast of California from the Arizona border. I was, finally, after many humbling months of simulators and study, ahead of the jet.

I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for Walter in the back seat. There he was, with no really good view of the incredible sights before us, tasked with monitoring four different radios. This was good practice for him for when we began flying real missions, when a priority transmission from headquarters could be vital. It had been difficult, too, for me to relinquish control of the radios, as during my entire flying career I had controlled my own transmissions. But it was part of the division of duties in this plane and I had adjusted to it. I still insisted on talking on the radio while we were on the ground, however. Walt was so good at many things, but he couldn’t match my expertise at sounding smooth on the radios, a skill that had been honed sharply with years in fighter squadrons where the slightest radio miscue was grounds for beheading. He understood that and allowed me that luxury.

Just to get a sense of what Walt had to contend with, I pulled the radio toggle switches and monitored the frequencies along with him. The predominant radio chatter was from Los Angeles Center, far below us, controlling daily traffic in their sector. While they had us on their scope (albeit briefly), we were in uncontrolled airspace and normally would not talk to them unless we needed to descend into their airspace.

We listened as the shaky voice of a lone Cessna pilot asked Center for a readout of his ground speed. Center replied: “November Charlie 175, I’m showing you at ninety knots on the ground.”

Now the thing to understand about Center controllers, was that whether they were talking to a rookie pilot in a Cessna, or to Air Force One, they always spoke in the exact same, calm, deep, professional, tone that made one feel important. I referred to it as the “ Houston Center voice.” I have always felt that after years of seeing documentaries on this country’s space program and listening to the calm and distinct voice of the Houston controllers, that all other controllers since then wanted to sound like that, and that they basically did. And it didn’t matter what sector of the country we would be flying in, it always seemed like the same guy was talking. Over the years that tone of voice had become somewhat of a comforting sound to pilots everywhere. Conversely, over the years, pilots always wanted to ensure that, when transmitting, they sounded like Chuck Yeager, or at least like John Wayne. Better to die than sound bad on the radios.

Just moments after the Cessna’s inquiry, a Twin Beech piped up on frequency, in a rather superior tone, asking for his ground speed. “I have you at one hundred and twenty-five knots of ground speed.” Boy, I thought, the Beechcraft really must think he is dazzling his Cessna brethren. Then out of the blue, a navy F-18 pilot out of NAS Lemoore came up on frequency. You knew right away it was a Navy jock because he sounded very cool on the radios. “Center, Dusty 52 ground speed check”. Before Center could reply, I’m thinking to myself, hey, Dusty 52 has a ground speed indicator in that million-dollar cockpit, so why is he asking Center for a readout? Then I got it, ol’ Dusty here is making sure that every bug smasher from Mount Whitney to the Mojave knows what true speed is. He’s the fastest dude in the valley today, and he just wants everyone to know how much fun he is having in his new Hornet. And the reply, always with that same, calm, voice, with more distinct alliteration than emotion: “Dusty 52, Center, we have you at 620 on the ground.”

And I thought to myself, is this a ripe situation, or what? As my hand instinctively reached for the mic button, I had to remind myself that Walt was in control of the radios. Still, I thought, it must be done - in mere seconds we’ll be out of the sector and the opportunity will be lost. That Hornet must die, and die now. I thought about all of our Sim training and how important it was that we developed well as a crew and knew that to jump in on the radios now would destroy the integrity of all that we had worked toward becoming. I was torn.

Somewhere, 13 miles above Arizona, there was a pilot screaming inside his space helmet. Then, I heard it. The click of the mic button from the back seat. That was the very moment that I knew Walter and I had become a crew. Very professionally, and with no emotion, Walter spoke: “Los Angeles Center, Aspen 20, can you give us a ground speed check?” There was no hesitation, and the replay came as if was an everyday request. “Aspen 20, I show you at one thousand eight hundred and forty-two knots, across the ground.”

I think it was the forty-two knots that I liked the best, so accurate and proud was Center to deliver that information without hesitation, and you just knew he was smiling. But the precise point at which I knew that Walt and I were going to be really good friends for a long time was when he keyed the mic once again to say, in his most fighter-pilot-like voice: “Ah, Center, much thanks, we’re showing closer to nineteen hundred on the money.”

For a moment Walter was a god. And we finally heard a little crack in the armor of the Houston Center voice, when L.A. came back with, “Roger that Aspen, Your equipment is probably more accurate than ours. You boys have a good one.”

It all had lasted for just moments, but in that short, memorable sprint across the southwest, the Navy had been flamed, all mortal airplanes on freq were forced to bow before the King of Speed, and more importantly, Walter and I had crossed the threshold of being a crew. A fine day’s work.

We never heard another transmission on that frequency all the way to the coast.”

-Brian Schul, Sled Driver: Flying The World’s Fastest Jet

Always reblog passive-aggressive Blackbird speed check

guys seriously tho what the fuck even was the SR-71 blackbird. That plane is like someone made a fucking bet. Like someone went “I have ten bucks that says you can’t make something that cruises at Mach 2.5″ and the aero folks scoffed and went hold our collective goddamn beers and then they cracked out a plane that CRUISES AT MACH 3 (for reference the much vaunted “supercruise” of the F-22 is only a few ticks above Mach 1). You need to understand how patently absurd this fucking vehicle is from nose to tail. Its original iteration, the A-12, was the successor to the U-2 when it became clear the USSR had developed missiles that could fly high enough to shoot it down so instead they built a new plane so fast you couldn’t fucking hit it. THAT WAS LITERALLY HOW THE SR-71 WORKED. By the time you realized what was goddamn happening at 80,000 feet it was already out of your fucking timezone. One time a pilot missed a turn by a second and ended up over Atlanta instead of DC. It flew so fast and got so hot that the entire fuselage stretched by several inches midflight which turned out to be a gigantic pain because all the fuel lines were hooked up assuming this stretching factor, so while on the ground it leaked like a goddamn sieve so at one point they decided to combat this BY STUFFING IT FULL OF KOTEX literally they had to shove tampons in this incredibly sophisticated aircraft so the fuel would stay in. It was the first serious aircraft built entirely out of titanium because no other metal could do the job, and at the time titanium wasn’t a widely-used metal so the world’s only major supplier WAS THE ACTUAL USSR SO THE US ACTUALLY BOUGHT THE MATERIAL TO MAKE THEIR SECRET SPY PLANE FROM THE PEOPLE THEY WERE SPYING ON. 

TL;DR Every single thing about this fucking aircraft is fucking ridiculous.

bye i love this

Man: Siri, what is 1 trillion to the tenth power? Siri: Calculation. The answer is one zero zero zero zero zero [continuing] Man: *starts beatboxing to the rhythm. Woman 1: *joins in* Woman 2: *starts singing to the rhythm*

This is sO GOOD

Everything movies taught me about archery is wrong. This is a complete mind-blower. 8D

If you are even remotely interested in archery or medieval combat, check this out, it’s just great!

OMFG EVERYONE PLEASE DROP WHAT YOU’RE DOING AND WATCH IT RIGHT NOW O_O

Art Nouveau Japanese Inlaid Damascene “Bat and Crescent” necklace in gold and silver.

I was getting pretty fed up with links and generators with very general and overused weapons and superpowers and what have you for characters so:

Here is a page for premodern weapons, broken down into a ton of subcategories, with the weapon’s region of origin. 

Here is a page of medieval weapons.

Here is a page of just about every conceived superpower.

Here is a page for legendary creatures and their regions of origin.

Here are some gemstones.

Here is a bunch of Greek legends, including monsters, gods, nymphs, heroes, and so on. 

Here is a website with a ton of (legally attained, don’t worry) information about the black market.

Here is a website with information about forensic science and cases of death. Discretion advised. 

Here is every religion in the world. 

Here is every language in the world.

Here are methods of torture. Discretion advised.

Here are descriptions of the various methods used for the death penalty. Discretion advised.

Here are poisonous plants.

Here are plants in general.

Feel free to add more to this!

An exceedingly useful list of lists for writers.

Check out the zoom on a Nikon P900 camera. 

In love……

I remember when I had this camera and the zoom shots were the best shots

I thought this was fucking fake but ?????

what in gods name ………. 

APPARENTLY THEY CAN ZOOM INTO SATURN TOO WITH THIS THING????

I thought it was going to be hilariously expensive, but oddly it’s only $600 (not much more than my Rebel T3 kit that was $450)

http://www.nikonusa.com/en/nikon-products/product/compact-digital-cameras/coolpix-p900.html

The lens is apparently equivalent to 2000mm telephoto.

What can the macro lens do?

WHAT THE FUCK

I have a Nikon Coolpix L820, and I use it to play voyeur with insects.

I GOT THAT COOLPIX TOO DAWG

i’m buying this tomorrow

This is too much power for a single human being to wield….

Anyone got suggestions for creepy documentaries im in the mood

here you go

not scary scary but its unsettling

What the fuck

Im watching this immediately this looks freaky as shit thank you

I saw this documentary at Sundance when I was working the festival, and every single screening of this film had heightened security, as well as bag and pocket checks before entering the theatre.

Why? Because earlier on in the festival, one of the people from Jane O'Brien Media (the company behind the “tickle cells”) was in the audience disrupting the screening.

At other festivals people from Jane O'Brien Media were kicked out for bringing recording devices into screenings with coffee cups and for continuously attempting to sabotage festival screenings. They hijacked the Q&A at a screening in Los Angeles, where they spent the Q&A portion threatening legal action against the filmmakers.

Not only a great “the truth is stranger than fiction” doc, but an absolutely crucial film to watch in an age where digital media has the power to be used for coercion. There’s a reason why those profiled didn’t want this doc getting out.