crisis tv show

Knowing the truth, which is that nothing matters, can actually save you. Once you get through that terrifying threshold of accepting that, then every place is the centre of the universe, and every moment is the most important moment, and everything is the meaning of life.
—  Dan Harmon, creator of Community and co-creator of Rick and Morty.

How to deal with a Hufflepuff in crisis (over a TV show):

Hufflepuff: “I AM SO UPSET
Slytherin: “I’m pretty sure that’s not in one’s recommended food sources.”
Hufflepuff: “WHAT THE HELL.”
Slytherin: “Also. That’s a lot of metal.”
Hufflepuff: “Seriously. What the hell.”
Slytherin: “So, like, don’t do that.”

Some thoughts on Extremis that I wanted to share. (This is for the more conscious and open-minded among us.)

The episode was very well written. Steven may have taken a jab at organized religion but he did not discount or belittle faith. In fact, he took it a step further to show how each and every one of us has a belief system. What is the one thing scientists and priests fear? Truths that challenge their beliefs about the world. 

In Extremis, Steven created a ‘brain-in-the-vat’ scenario. Picture yourself as a brain, simply floating in a vat and connected to a simulator of some sort. Every single thing you think and feel will be real to you, except you cannot know you are in a vat. In this case, truth is limited because you cannot possibly know what you don’t know. 

There are two outcomes: (1) You have a belief there is nothing else beyond the realm of the truth that you know. (2) You have a belief that there is more. There is something beyond the realm of your known truth.

What I appreciate about this episode is Steven’s message. Be like the Doctor. Examine what you believe. A healthy amount of skepticism and doubt in your belief system might be more rewarding to you than you think. In the words of Socrates, “The unexamined life is not worth living.”

What does Criminal Minds even look like without Aaron Hotchner?!

Like… I understand why TG was fired, this was the second time his temper has gotten him in trouble on set, so I won’t debate the choice that was made but… Hotch is the team leader and has been for 12 seasons. Losing him and Morgan so close together?! I can’t even imagine. The only originals left are Garcia, Reid, and JJ who I love but. They were a family. Hotch was the core. He held everyone together. He fought for them to all stay together. It won’t be the same and I’m heartbroken. 

asparkoflight  asked:

Angel's ten favorite pieces of modern technology?

Angelus’s favorite invention had been the flintlock pistol. A bit messy, perhaps, if you hit an artery directly, and yes, it wasn’t very sporting (the cat lets the mice run, Dru sing-songed, or else it spoils the soup)

…but since when were they sporting?

Just like tapping a tree, my love, he’d tell Darla, and fire.

Angel had liked gas lamps, the forgiving light of them, the shadows they cast, the lamplighters of New York, who kept the same hours and called him by name.

Electricity didn’t smell of anything.

He rode the Overland Route so many times that the rocking of it was lodged somewhere in his bones, mountains emblazoned on the back of his eyelids. At night he would climb onto the roof of the car and lay there, wind tugging at his shirt-tails, looking up at the stars.

The first time he heard a Victrola played, his soul (twenty years in and still raw, aching, ill-fitted under his skin) had burned, overwhelming and brutal as death. Angel had panicked, he had thought this some fresh twist of the curse—

It wasn’t until he saw the woman beside him smiling so beatifically that he remembered—joy.

There’s a shoebox somewhere around of the Polaroids he took—chorus girls smiling over the rim of their champagne flutes, Bugsy Siegel with his tie askew, the main street lit like daylight (though it looks dinky, hokey compared to the sprawling behemoth Las Vegas became.) There are flashy cars in the artificial light, smiles, cowboy hats and hills.

There are a few of him, mixed in there—when someone wrenched the camera from his hands, forced him to sit still. Don’t you want to be immortalized? they’d always ask, laughing, before the shutter clicked.

In those few photographs at the bottom of that shoebox, Angel looks suddenly fully of grief.

He was two hundred and fifty, crowded around a television in the back room of some shithole bar with more than a few half-drunk demons and one mildly disapproving bartender. They had watched the grainy footage silently, everyone holding their breath as a man in white stepped out, onto the grey surface of another world, and said for mankind.

Damn, one of the demons breathed softly. Look at that. Nothing but fire and a tin can, and the little monkeys actually did it. They did it.

Angel was silent, thinking of those two men, millions of miles from the earth, defying the cold silence of eternity just by breathing. Just with hope.

Buffy gave him a Tamagotchi once, because—well. Buffy.

It was inexplicably still in his pocket the day he was resurrected from Hell; it was still there the day he finally said goodbye to her. But he lost it somehow, moving to Los Angeles, or it got left behind, or—

He hoped its new owner was feeding it properly.

Search engines. He might still type with his pointer fingers and get confused about which buttons do what, but the day he realized that someone had scanned most of the really important 17th century grimoires and made them keyword-searchable was the day he surrendered to the computer age.

The day he stumbles onto Cordy’s audition reel, it’s like—

He’d forgotten how bright her smile was.

He really likes his rolodex, okay? So everyone can just stop with the 80s jokes.

  • Me: *mentions Tegan and Sara*
  • Sister: Oh, I didn't know anyone knew about Tegan and Sara! How did you hear about them?
  • Me: Oh, from The L W--
  • Brain: RED ALERT
  • Brain: ABORT ABORT
  • Me: --llen Degeneres Show. Yeah, they were guests on Ellen.
  • Brain: Crisis averted.
  • Brain: Well done, my child.