Project Hail Mary // Incorrect quotes 3/?
Bonus:
Claire Keane
we're not kids anymore.
ojovivo
Jules of Nature
No title available
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
taylor price
I'd rather be in outer space đ¸

Origami Around
hello vonnie
Misplaced Lens Cap
sheepfilms

romaâ

â
h
One Nice Bug Per Day

Kaledo Art

oozey mess

pixel skylines

ellievsbear

seen from United States

seen from Germany
seen from Lithuania
seen from South Africa

seen from United States

seen from Germany

seen from Argentina

seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Switzerland

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Germany

seen from Germany
seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Singapore
@twistedribbon
Project Hail Mary // Incorrect quotes 3/?
Bonus:
For the this year's celebration of the Glorious 25th of May let me present to you my latest project.
Lady's Sybil Ramkin leather corset for a stage adaptation of sir Terry Pratchett's Guards! Guards! From sketch to final costume with lovely Errol the Dragon.
Corset made from genuine textured sheepskin and a lots of brass details like buckles, eyelets and studs. Straps has functional buckles and can be adjusted if necessary. Corset has cotton lining with lilac blossom print (I'm not sorry, I can't help myself, I wouldn't miss this chance for a little Easter hard-boiled egg). All creative processes was under strict supervision of my copilot Jarvis, as usual.
âMusk talks about Mars as a lifeboat for humanity, which is among the very stupidest things that someone could say,â says Adam Becker, an astrophysicist and author of the book More Everything Forever, which outlines the messianic, sci-fi fantasies of the tech oligarchs. âThere are so many reasons why itâs such a bad idea, and this is not about, âOh, weâll never have the technology to live on Mars.â Thatâs not what Iâm saying. What Iâm saying is that Earth is always going to be a better option no matter what happens to Earth. Like, we could get hit with an asteroid the size of the one that killed off the dinosaurs, and Earth would still be more habitable. We could explode every single nuclear weapon, and Earth would still be more habitable. We could have the worst-case scenario for climate change, and Earth would still be more habitable. Any cursory examination of any of the facts about Mars makes it very clear.â
What Youâve Suspected Is True: Billionaires Are Not Like Us
I really like sci-fi stories where people have to go off and terraform a planet, or figure out how to rebuild civilization after some disaster, or ideally both. "The last ark-ship leaving Earth right before it becomes uninhabitable" sort of deal. But lately I've been coming around to this same idea, that it will always be more practical to try to save Earth than to try to start over elsewhere.
I was reading one story where the apocalypse was impossibly-rising oceans. Like, water is appearing from *waves hand* the Earth's crust or something, and literally all dry surface land on Earth is going to become underwater in X years. Part of the story was about a giant research project to invent FTL to send a few hundred humans to a nearby star which might have a habitable planet. You know what they were hoping to find? A planet with liquid water. Their plan was to descend from their starship and restart civilization using just the tools they brought with them, on a world with no life and no breathable air and the wrong gravity and the wrong temperate and the wrong sunlight and the wrong day-night cycle, just because it had liquid water. You know where else has liquid water? The flooded Earth you just abandoned. Instead of researching starship technology, you could have spent that time loading up all the same civilization-restarter tools into boats.
And this is really true of any futuristic apocalypse scenario. If you can terraform Mars to have a thick oxygen atmosphere, why not just do that to Earth? Even if you smash an ice comet into Earth and destroy basically everything, Earth will still be more habitable than Mars! It'll still have roughly the right atmospheric pressure, and magnetic field, and heat balance, and it'll still have whatever life the comet didn't kill... Same with a starshade to cool Venus. Same with excavating asteroids into city-stations. Same with abandoning Sol System entirely and heading to another star. If an ark-ship arrived in a new star system and found Earth-but-choked-by-climate-change, the crew would be ecstatic. They would never have thought to get that lucky. So why bother with the trip? Just stay and fix the damn Earth.
Happy Pride Month!
Faust is back for the 5th time! If you want to use the flag of your choice as an avatar, they're under the cut. They're free to use as long as it's for personal use only.
So a few weeks back the wax ring on our upstairs toilet failed, leading to water damage in the guest room closet/downstairs bathroom. We've really got a best case scenario: it hadn't run into the walls yet, no mold, just the (cheaper) wax ring and not the whole toilet fitting but it's still been a headache to deal with.
However, people keep making little comments like "oh don't you wish you were still renting?" "Sucks having to deal with this on your own!" And yes, stress. Headache. Having all the fans and dehumidifiers running non stop in 3 rooms for over a week made me insane. It's also making me so grateful we're NOT still renting!!!! Every apartment I've lived in has had issues that the landlord has just refused to fix. Our first place out here we had a hole cut in pur ceiling that poured water every time the upstairs neighbors showered. It was there for over a year. They "couldn't find the problem" so we just had to live with a hole and a bucket to catch the water. You think I miss that? That I have nostalgia for that? No. Absolutely not.
Yeah it sucks that we have to replace all the tile in the upstairs bathroom because it was considered "contaminated" (bc toilet leak) but I get to pick out the new tile to my own tastes!!!!!!
STAY SAFE!! [ID: the Gilbert Baker pride flag with the words âHappy pride to all those who are unable to celebrate openly and safely. You are loved and seen!â in all-caps black text over it. /end ID]
No IDs, but these tags got me in a huff:
So ok look. The point is not the flared leg by itself. These cannot be yoga pants. These are, and you have to understand this if you are too young to have worn them, BLUE JEANS. And this was the last years before all jeans were 70% spandex.
They were denim, and they weren't bell bottoms. They hung loose from the knee in a way that would make a wizard envious. We all walked around like we were wearing hakama. And they dragged on the ground. That was important. Ragged cuffs. If your jeans weren't so long that they had ratty cuffs, they were embarrassingly short.
And the thing about denim is that it's a twill weave and it's cotton. So not only does it hold a lot of water, it wicks. Walking around in these suckers on a wet day could get you wet to the knees even if you never stepped in a puddle.
Then you'd go inside and take off your shoes and try to avoid letting your freezing, wet, filthy pant legs touch your skin.
Yoga pants. Hmf.
people in cold climates would have a tide line of white marks around their knees (if they were normal height) in the winter.
From wicking up road salt.
The visceral memory of that time is something that never leaves you. Everyone's jeans were many inches higher in the back than the front because you kept stepping on the hem and ripping it off. Your lower legs were so very cold. Every new pair of jeans literally enveloped your entire foot, they were so so long re: leg-to-waist ratio. Walking on a rainy day was a legitimate workout. You have no idea.
I drew a comic about how I imagine meeting an eel will go
i haaate when ppl are talking abt mammal colouration and they bring up mandrills but not vervet monkeys.... fake fans
put some respect on his name
Okay, we got a new one, boys.
Close enough welcome back Chekov's gun.
Prev you canât bury this in your own tags
ID: A screenshot of tags left on the tumblr post. They read "#it's actually kind of a reverse Chekhov's Gun #Chekhov's Gun says "If there is setup there must be payoff" #Asimov's Tail says "if there is payoff there must be setup" #and I think the tail is also important #a tail is not something you'd expect to see on a character unless explicitly pointed out #someone stepping on the tail not only reveals its existence but also tells us things about it #eg it's floor length sensitive and the character either can't or won't keep it out of the way of foot traffic #the upshot seems to be "acclimatise your audience to things they don't understand before you use them" #you don't need to explain how a gun on the mantelpiece works in the same way you need to explain how your protagonist's tail does" End ID.
She played bass on 10,000 songs, including the most-played track of the twentieth century. She was paid $55 per session. Her name never appeared on the albums.
Gold Star Studios, Los Angeles, 1964. A woman in a cardigan walks past the receptionist, a Fender Precision bass in her hand like a briefcase. She doesnât sign autographs. She signs a timesheet.
Her name is Carol Kaye. In three hours, she will record what will become the most-played track of the twentieth century. Sheâll pocket fifty-five dollars and head to another studio, on the other side of town, for the next session.
The record label will never put her name on the album.
Between 1957 and 1973, Carol Kaye took part in roughly 10,000 recording sessions. Not as the featured artist, not as a guest, but as a hired hand. She was part of an anonymous collective nicknamed The Wrecking Crewâelite studio musicians who actually played the instruments on your favorite records while the famous bands posed for promotional photos.
The work was relentless. Three albums before the day was over. Stale coffee in paper cups. No rehearsal. The charts arrived minutes before the tape rolled. If you couldnât read a chart and nail the take in two tries, you didnât get called for the next session.
Carol could do it on the first try.
She started playing guitar in grimy bars at fourteen because her family couldnât pay the electric bill. Music wasnât a romantic dream for her. It was survival. It was a jobâfactory work with better acoustics and lower pay.
But she was faster and sharper than almost everyone else. She corrected charts in pencil while the producer was still explaining what he wanted. In one session in 1968, she told a famous producer his arrangement sounded like a dying dog. She chose her own line. They kept her version.
That descending bass line that drives the Beach Boysâ âWouldnât It Be Niceâ? Carol Kaye. The propulsive groove of âThese Boots Are Made for Walkinââ? Carol Kaye. The acoustic-guitar intro to âLa Bambaâ? Carol Kaye. The iconic theme from Mission: Impossible? Carol Kaye.
She invented techniques on the spot, out of sheer necessity. When the bass sound was too muddy for AM radio, she stuck felt under the strings and used a hard pick instead of her fingers. The tone cut through the static like a blade. It became the sonic signature that defined 1960s pop.
Bassists spent yearsâdecadesâtrying to crack the secret of the Beach Boysâ gear to get that sound. They were studying the wrong people. They should have been studying Carol.
She received no royalties. No residuals. No gold-record ceremony. No credit on the album sleeves. When âYouâve Lost That Lovinâ Feelinââ hit number one, Carol was already back in a studio cutting a soap jingle.
The biggest bands mimed her bass lines on TV variety shows. New York marketing departments decided a mom in classic clothes didnât fit the rebellious-youth image they were selling. So they simply left her name off the album credits.
For thirty years, almost no one cared. The truth only began to surface in the late 1990s, when music researchers found the same union contract numbers on thousands of hit records. The very documents meant to preserve studio musiciansâ anonymity betrayed them.
Think about it. Every time you heard âGood Vibrations,â âRiver Deep â Mountain High,â the Righteous Brothers, Nancy Sinatra, or Sonny and Cher, you were hearing Carol Kaye. She composed the soundtrack of an entire generationâs youth.
And yet the records still say nothing. Sheâs now over eighty. She wrote instructional books. She trained countless bassists. She is finally starting to be recognized by music historians who uncovered the truth about The Wrecking Crew.
But she never got what she deserved: her name on those albums. Credit for the music that defined an era. Recognition that those bass lines everyone associates with the âBeach Boysâ were, in fact, Carol Kayeâs.
Fifty-five dollars a session. Ten thousand sessions. The most-played track of the twentieth century.
And the world didnât know her name.
She was admitted to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2025 but refused, fuck yeah, Carol. Her official website is incredible.
Happy Pride!
It would be kind of fun to have a medical dramamedy show where people (patients and people in the medical field) could submit their craziest experiences with the medical system and those plotlines and patient stories could be dramatized and woven into a cohesive narrative with any additional profits from the show going to pay off medical debt.
Plotline A: Patient is suffering from a near fatal case of hypothermia after passing out in the snow drunk and laying there all night until his 13 year old nephew discovered him in the morning, said 13 year old managed to transport his druncle to the hospital on a snowmobile but the rest of the family cannot make it there due to road conditions.
Plotline B: A live rat fell through the ceiling halfway through an emergency appendectomy, causing the surgeon to startle and rupture the patientâs appendix. Infectious disease is very interested in the situation due to the risk of zoonotic infection. The hospitalâs legal department is also very interested in the situation.
Hey OP what happened to you
Iâve been chronically ill since the age of 14 and I enjoy eavesdropping
tongue in cheek art about weird bodies and waiting for a diagnosis
[ID: A piece of digital art. It depicts six vials of blood of various shades for lab testing with following labels: ânegativeâ, ânegativeâ, âWait a minute.â, âNo wonder Iâm so fucking tired!â, ânegativeâ and âWell. Itâs not lupus!â. The background is black and blank and there is a white caption in the bottom left corner reading: â8.28.25 - âLabsââ.
Kodak Coquette Camera with matching lipstick and compact, 1930
my erotic fanfiction is more historically accurate than yours. here it claims that shes moaning 'yes,' however classical latin didn't have a word that corresponds to Modern English 'yes,' i.e. an affirmative answer to an interrogative. You could have easily avoided this glaring implausibility by allowing her to moan plus, 'more'âas exemplified in my critically acclaimed fic with an unprecedented number of kudos (eleven). I recommend that you log out of AO3 and return only after acquiring satisfactory knowledge of the subject matter.
classical latin did in fact have an affirmative answer to an interrogative (sic), it's just not a cognate with modern english "yes" which is Germanic. but you probably recognize its modern descendants, spanish sĂ, italian sĂ, etc.
anyway how this is relevant to this post is that when Dido commits suicide in book 4 of the Aeneid she says "sic, sic! iuvat ire sub umbras" or "yes, yes! with joy i pass beneath the shadows" while stabbing herself, the allegory of penetration accompanied by shouts of ecstasy leading unto death being an interpretative exercise best left to the reader.