storytime

~ Brin ~ Leave a comment

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newtonpermetersquare:

Magnets: I want to commit diamagnetic

 

squided:

how did I never once think to use tape fuck

 

rubykgrant:

one time as a kid I forcefully shoved two magnets together, and these were the strong magnets my dad used in his shop to pick-up missing little metal bits, and I held them really tightly in the palm of my hand, went up to this one kid who legit said things like “I think black cats are bad, they should be drowned” and drew crosses on the notebooks of kids if she found out they didn’t go to church, I told her “Hey. I’m a witch. If you don’t stop trying to hurt animals and picking on kids, I’ll use my magic to throw you into the sky”, and when she dared to doubt my powers I told her that I had two “rocks” in my hand that I could send across the playground, then I opened my hand the the magnets shot off in two different directions (we were over in a spot that was empty, so no other kids were around, nobody got hurt), one of them stuck to a drainpipe and the other stuck to a fence. This kid SCREAMED, and ran to the office, and I guess had her mom pick her up from school, and then she wasn’t there for a couple of days, finally her mom called my house and claimed I had “traumatized her daughter by performing a terrifying magic trick”, and when my parents asked what I did I just said “I showed her a magnet and she flipped out. She’s not gonna be happy when she finds out about gravity, either”. eventually this kid came back to school and always made a point to come up to me and say “Hey, my mom told me not to talk to you!”, and would just be like “Good job, you already screwed that up”

 

notcorrectwitcher:

Holy shit

Tags:

#the power of science #storytime #this probably deserves some warning tag but I am not sure what #abuse cw?

~ Brin ~ Leave a comment

batmanisagatewaydrug:

actually there were 0 time travellers on the Titanic, because the time cops have an entire outpost to safeguard that one particular point in history. every rookie spends a least a month on Titanic duty and they all complain bitterly about it since it is, essentially, the time travel equivalent of being the guard who has to stop tourists from licking the Liberty Bell.

 

batmanisagatewaydrug:

listen. LISTEN. there’s going to be somebody, maybe several somebodies, at the travel hub who’s dressed nice and knows all the right words and swears back and forth that they can sell you the credentials that will get you into the Titanic’s timespace. they’ll sell you IDs that pass you and your friends off as 23rd century history students or, worse, some 24th century brats who will go crying to their corporate sponsors if you ruin their paid vacation.

the IDs will look very impressive. they will not come cheap. they will not help you.

there’s no checkpoint to bluff your way through and nobody who wants to hear you try. if you try to time travel anywhere near the Titanic, whether you try to board with all the other passengers or appear on the boat in the middle of the voyage, you will get slammed directly into a whitespace dragnet – a time bubble, in layman’s terms.

and you will be surrounded by at least a dozen time cops, all of whom are bored and cranky and very eager to flex their newfound authority, which means they will absolutely detain you for as long as possible and insist on giving you a lecture when a slap on the wrist would do. if you talk back they might double your fine or even suspend your chronal permissions for up to a year.

and then they’ll send you back to the hub in your period piece clothing that will suddenly look very stupid, and the guys who sold you the ideas will have fucked off to 1998 by then and you won’t have a chance in hell of getting your money back, and what I’m saying is that it’s not worth it, dude. it’s just not worth it.

Tags:

#time travel #Titanic #storytime

~ Brin ~ Leave a comment

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reddpenn:

Ah, it’s too late to post this on Halloween.  But here is a little story about ghosts, and roommates, and roommates who are ghosts.

Tags:

#storytime #comic #art #Halloween #ghost #anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog #(the answer to ”what’s the magic word?”)

Inktober #25: Tasty

~ Brin ~ Leave a comment

alarajrogers:

alarawriting:

This is set in the same universe as #5: Build, but features a completely different species and set of characters.

Rrahe’nek stared at the tiny, coatless creature looking up at him, its teeth bared but its digits bereft of weapons. Instead, there was a rich-smelling ceramic dish in its hands, hot, steaming and wrapped in a cloth. It spoke incomprehensibly.

He had come here expecting a battle. Hoping. The newest species to enter galactic territory was a protégé of the Diwar, and Rrahe’nek despised the feathered ones. They were arrogant, but pathetic. Their weapons were superb, no one denied that, but their warriors were cowards, planting bombs and running away. Rrahe’nek had heard that their proteges had far inferior technology, were smaller, and had no natural physical weapons. Either they were the weakest prey-sapients the Kai had ever encountered, or they had ferocious battle techniques to make up for their biological inadequacies. When one had come alone toward the Kai encampment, Rrahe’nek had been delighted, assuming it was the second option. He had come out alone himself to meet the alien warrior in battle, take its measure… and defeat it, of course, no aliens had ever defeated a Kai warrior in single combat, but the contest would be exhilarating before Rrahe’nek won it in the end.

Instead, here he was faced with a small alien with a curled mane, but no fur elsewhere on its body, holding out what smelled like a dish of cooked food.

He poked his tongue into the bead at the back of his mouth that activated his voder as a communicator. “Warrior Fifth Rank Rrahe’nek to den.”

“Den here, Warrior Fifth. Heat signature says you’re in range of the alien, but have not engaged?”

“That’s correct. It – it seems to be trying to give me food.”

A moment of silence. Then, “What.”

“Its teeth are bared, but it has no weapons, it’s made no threatening moves, it isn’t running away, and it’s trying to hand me a dish that smells like fish.”

“Hold position. We’re getting eyes on your location.”

“Acknowledged.”

Keep reading

Reblogged from writing blog.

Tags:

#storytime #aliens #food #violence cw

~ Brin ~ Leave a comment

m4ge:

a quick step by step guide on what to do if you come back to your apartment and find yourself locked out because your front door is frozen shut

  1. kick the bottom of the door for 10 minutes
  2. text your landlord
  3. remember your landlord is on vacation and also in her mid 50′s so it takes about 36 hours to receive a response
  4. briefly wonder why the fuck you moved the canada
  5. remember that college tuition is significantly cheaper here than in the united states 
  6. look up and notice your cat is at the window, staring at you. he paws at the window lightly and meows. it’s devastating. his eyes are so big and imploring. decide that you have to get inside your apartment at all costs. not even god himself can stop you from feeding your cat his chicken wet food dinner. frida kahlo herself could descend from the heavens and ask “hey you wanna bang?” and you’d say “hell yeah but first let me open this door so i can feed my cat his dinner”
  7. remember there is a starbucks 3 blocks down the street from you
  8. enter. the barista gives you a weird look for entering a starbucks at 7pm on a tuesday
  9. order a venti cup of hot water. you order in french because the barista just said “bonjour” instead of “bonjour, hi.” you have a strong american accent. you hit the r in merci a little too hard to compensate. you embarrass yourself.
  10. exit the starbucks clutching the massive cup of hot water in your hands. it’s burning your fingers.
  11. return. methodically pour the starbucks cup of water all over the the door frame. it begins moving a little but still wont open
  12. back up
  13. ensure your doc martens are properly gripping the sheet of ice covering the ground. many people have told you to stop wearing doc martens in the winter, despite your protests that theyre actually the ideal winter boot. also, you’re a lesbian and punk’s not dead
  14. release a pterodactyl screech and sprint towards the door, slamming the full force of your pathetically tiny 5′2″ 110lb body into it
  15. you dont know any of your neighbors so you dont care about maintaining your pride anyways
  16. the door swings open
  17. run up the stairs
  18. open the actual door to your apartment and yell MOMMY’S HOME MY LITTLE BITCHASS BABY BOY DONT WORRY at your cat
  19. cat flings his body to the ground and starts purring like he does every time you come home
  20. write tumblr post

Tags:

#storytime #our home and cherished land #anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog #embarrassment squick? #weight cw? #and this one isn’t *quite* right but close enough that I’m going to include it: #fun with loopholes

~ Brin ~ 2 Comments

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yudkowsky:

mirasorastone:

yudkowsky:

prokopetz:

Bad: Superhero whose secret identity is just staggeringly obvious, but nobody picks up on it for various implausible reasons.

Good: Superhero whose secret identity is just staggeringly obvious, and everybody “knows”, but in spite of countless people’s best efforts nobody can actually prove it.

“Literally everyone knows that Bruce Kent is the Masculine Mongoose,” said the woman sitting across from me in our candlelit dinner. “The superheroes know it. The villains know it. The guy on the street knows it. Uncontacted tribes in the Amazon know it. The Enquirer doesn’t break the mask code when they print your picture because they don’t even bother mentioning who you are. If I need to have conversations with you pretending not to know that Bruce is the ‘Goose, we’re going to be the only two people on the planet pretending that.”

My expectations for this date’s viability were starting to sink. She was saying intelligent things, and saying them with remarkable confidence and self-possession for somebody who thought she was talking to the Masculine Mongoose himself. It was impressing me and more than slightly turning me on. But the conversation had taken a turn I’d been down before, and not a promising one. “I don’t want to get into a relationship under false pretenses,” I said.

“Yeah,” she said. “Like if I slept with you under the impression that you were just an ordinary playboy millionaire, instead of a superhero.” She sipped from her champagne glass, visibly trying not to smile.

“Look,” I said, trying to make my voice as persuasive as I could. “Just like you say, everyone knows that Bruce Kent is the Masculine Mongoose. People have believed that for eight years. And in all that time, nobody has ever managed to prove anything – never mind suggestive evidence, nobody has ever shown it for certain. Shouldn’t that give you pause?”

Keep reading

I would read an entire novel series about this concept. 

To her dying day, reporter Terri Green would remember the look on Bruce Kent’s face as the assassin stepped out of the crowd, holding the gun.

He just nailed it perfectly.  The look of shock, of horror, the way he reacted almost as slowly as a normal human, how he instinctively raised his arms to protect his face.  It was incredible acting, every bit as good as you’d expect from the Masculine Mongoose himself.

The assassin managed to fire three times into Bruce Kent’s chest before a completely nonplussed police officer managed a tackle.

Bruce Kent fell to the ground and didn’t move.

“I did it!” shrieked the lunatic, even as he was being slammed to the ground and cuffed.  “I did it!  I proved who Bruce Kent really is!  They may take me away, but they’ll always remember the Smart Guy With A Gun as the man who finally proved it!  Let’s see you get out of this one, Mongoose!“

Keep reading

Tags:

#storytime #superheroes #oh look an update

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~ Brin ~ 1 Comment

yudkowsky:

prokopetz:

Bad: Superhero whose secret identity is just staggeringly obvious, but nobody picks up on it for various implausible reasons.

Good: Superhero whose secret identity is just staggeringly obvious, and everybody “knows”, but in spite of countless people’s best efforts nobody can actually prove it.

“Literally everyone knows that Bruce Kent is the Masculine Mongoose,” said the woman sitting across from me in our candlelit dinner. “The superheroes know it. The villains know it. The guy on the street knows it. Uncontacted tribes in the Amazon know it. The Enquirer doesn’t break the mask code when they print your picture because they don’t even bother mentioning who you are. If I need to have conversations with you pretending not to know that Bruce is the ‘Goose, we’re going to be the only two people on the planet pretending that.”

My expectations for this date’s viability were starting to sink. She was saying intelligent things, and saying them with remarkable confidence and self-possession for somebody who thought she was talking to the Masculine Mongoose himself. It was impressing me and more than slightly turning me on. But the conversation had taken a turn I’d been down before, and not a promising one. “I don’t want to get into a relationship under false pretenses,” I said.

“Yeah,” she said. “Like if I slept with you under the impression that you were just an ordinary playboy millionaire, instead of a superhero.” She sipped from her champagne glass, visibly trying not to smile.

“Look,” I said, trying to make my voice as persuasive as I could. “Just like you say, everyone knows that Bruce Kent is the Masculine Mongoose. People have believed that for eight years. And in all that time, nobody has ever managed to prove anything – never mind suggestive evidence, nobody has ever shown it for certain. Shouldn’t that give you pause?”

Keep reading

Tags:

#storytime #superheroes

{{next post in sequence}}

~ Brin ~ Leave a comment

twunkmichaelmell:

what’s new pussycat just started playing in this restaurant and every millenial in the room shared a knowing, fearful look

 

polishhammer83:

It’s fucking Tom Jones? Millennials are you too stupid to realize that Tom Jones is the reason some of you exist? (Think about it for a second, you’ll get it)

 

kleinsens:

hhhhhh oh my god ohhh my god oh my fucking god

 

cobrall:

tom jones fucked all of our moms

 

lizaleigh:

Two weeks ago, my sister and I went out for breakfast at a popular cafe near her place. Enya’s ‘Only Time’ started playing halfway through our homefries, and was still droning right along as I ate my last bite of potato. Squinting, I looked up at the ceiling, looked at my sister, and said:

“Either someone’s playing ‘Only Time’ back-to-back, or ‘Only Time’ is a lot longer than I remember.”

Her eyes went huge. We lingered over our tea (a thing we normally wouldn’t do in a crowded eatery, but we had a mystery to solve) and soon confirmed that, yes, somebody was looping Enya. No one else in the cafe seemed to have caught on, but we were some of the younger people present anyway. The staff were all going about their business. Nobody was looking around with fearful millennial knowingness but us. By the sixth-ish repetition, we were in silent hysterics, biting our fists, whispering “GODDAMMIT” to each other, drawing weird glances from adjacent tables.

My sister got up to use the bathroom. Left alone with the seventh repetition of ‘Only Time’, I left my stuff at our table, got back in line, and ordered a pastry to go. As the barista rang me up, I said:

“Hey, sorry, weird question, but I have to know. Are you guys pulling a Salt and Pepper Diner right now?”

Her face transitioned from ‘polite customer service mask’ to ‘sly but delighted’ in .2 seconds. “We’ve been waiting to see if anybody would notice. Nobody’s been reacting at all!”

“Is there a prize for being the first?” I promise I was joking, but she lit up and said,

“Yes, oh my god! Do you want a cookie??”

And that’s the story of how John Mulaney won me a giant ginger-molasses cookie. 

Tags:

#embarrassment squick #food #anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog #music #storytime