Happy Drawtectives Day!! Here’s some fanart of Rosé and Porcino to celebrate💗
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Claire Keane
TVSTRANGERTHINGS

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Three Goblin Art
todays bird

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
will byers stan first human second
Misplaced Lens Cap
AnasAbdin
noise dept.
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
d e v o n

Kiana Khansmith
i don't do bad sauce passes
Mike Driver

"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Cosimo Galluzzi
DEAR READER

seen from TĂĽrkiye

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seen from T1
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@s0laart
Happy Drawtectives Day!! Here’s some fanart of Rosé and Porcino to celebrate💗

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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I just experienced the strangest feat of memory/neurons connecting in unexpected ways.
To start off with something seemingly unrelated, I have spent many years lamenting the fact that I've never read any of Terry Pratchett's work. I haven't remedied that fact (as far as I remembered) because I kept getting overwhelmed at the expanse of options I could start with.
Recently, after experiencing GO3 and whatever happened to the characterization of my comfort characters, I began reading the Good Omens graphic novel adaptation, just to witness the versions of Aziraphale and Crowley that I'd fallen in love with in the beginning.
Now, another seemingly unrelated bit: I've recently begun finalizing the writing for my own graphic novel. It's based on a story I came up with in middle school, which was inspired by a book I'd completely forgotten by now (it's been over a decade since middle school and I've had a few concussions in that time). The story I came up with stuck in my head, but I'd long since resigned myself to never remembering the piece that had inspired it.
Still, for some reason, I've lately been overwhelmed by the need to find the book that had inspired me in the first place. Every night for the past week I have spent hours online typing summaries of the one paragraph of the book that I still remembered.
Finally, about to give up, I decided to rely on the fact that I was not the most original kid and probably ripped off more of the book than I meant to. The title of my comic is Periwinkle; so, logically, the book that inspired it likely has at least one syllable in common with it. The syllable that's always felt the most significant to me in Periwinkle has been "win," which sounds like "winter." So, I reasoned that the book that somewhat inspired Periwinkle must be "Winter-something." I went to my childhood public library's catalogue, typed "winter" in, and read through all 142 titles until coming across a title that fit the "winter-something" structure I imagined. Wintersmith by Terry Pratchett.
Sure enough, upon reading through it, the single paragraph I remembered showed up on page 304.
Which means that for years I had completely forgotten about this book. Until reading a graphic novel that likely has bits of it written in Pratchett's voice. And some part of my brain went "Wait! I know this voice! You must remember this voice!" Making me unable to focus on my own writing. Until I found the book that inspired me to write my own fantasy story as a kid.
And the silly ending of this story is that it turns out that I have already read a Terry Pratchett book, out of order (it's apparently the third book in the series!), and enjoyed it so much that it made me want to write my own fantasy stories. So, I have nothing holding me back from reading way more now!
is this how one direction fans felt
ursula k le guin affirmations for your day:
it is our differences which make us dearer to one another
it is never too late to start loving
the enemy is not the foreigner, but the ones who tell you to hate the foreigner
everyone should have food, shelter, and work
everything is a yin and yang metaphor if you try hard enough
sci-fi is important
Just watched Adam Conover (of Adam Ruins Everything) make such a solid point that I think we should spread far and wide. Yes, having AI write your emails is lazy, sure, but people love being lazy. We need to really emphasize that sending AI emails (or using AI responses on social media, or publishing AI flyers, or or or) is rude.
It's rude. You're making someone take their time to read something you couldn't bother to write. You're telling them they were so unimportant you couldn't be bothered to actually take the time to say something yourself. And frankly, you're lying about it while you're at it.
It's rude.
The above is doubly true if the content of the email is something that will be important to the person receiving - especially something that affects them negatively. They see that this thing that affected them so much didn't matter enough to you to write it yourself. I was a bystander to such a thing not long ago and it was just awful.

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hbo max blocks screenshots even when I use the snipping tool AND firefox AND ublock which is a fucking first. i will never understand streaming services blocking the ability to take screenshots thats literally free advertising for your show right there. HOW THE HELL IS SOMEBODY GONNA PIRATE YOUR SHOW THROUGH SCREENSHOTS. JACKASS
somewhere out there is a guy who meticulously takes screenshots of every individual frame of his favorite tv shows and then painstakingly etches each one onto a roll of film which he puts into his old timey projector and recreates the footage as a silent film with his own lavishly hand-lettered dialogue cards and original score that he plays on his upright piano and charges audiences one shiny penny a play. at last, big media has finally outsmarted ol' Zachary Zoetrope
PSA for everyone who doesn't know, explained simply
this is NOT because of blocking screenshots, it's because of HOW streaming sites use your computer's hardware to optimise performance, which means the thing rendering the video and the thing capturing your screen aren't the SAME thing. so they can't talk together.
you can fix this by going to your browser settings, searching for "hardware acceleration", and turning that off.
This also fixes screen sharing to other screens. It has been GODSEND
type this in the toolbar to find this setting in firefox: about:preferences#searchResults
ol' Zachary Zoetrope is back in business!
The FBI cut the phone lines during the 1977 disability rights sit-in. Then they turned off the hot water.
They locked the doors from the outside. One hundred and fifty people were trapped on the fourth floor. Half of them used wheelchairs. The government assumed they would leave.
Kitty Cone was thirty-three. She had muscular dystrophy. Her muscles were failing, but her logistics were flawless. She knew how to organize people.
The federal government had promised to sign regulations protecting disabled Americans from discrimination. The policy was known as Section 504. They printed the promise on paper. Then they stalled. Without a signature, it was just typography.
The protesters entered the regional Health, Education, and Welfare building in San Francisco on a Tuesday morning. They took the elevators to the director's office. They brought sleeping bags and catheters. They informed the staff they were not leaving until the law was signed.
By sunset, the police surrounded the exits. Kitty sat near the windows. She organized the floor plan. She assigned committees for security and sanitation. She kept her medication in a small cooler.
According to federal memorandums released decades later, the strategy to end the occupation relied on medical attrition. The building was not equipped for long-term habitation. The FBI calculated that a population requiring ventilators, specialized diets, and daily medical aides would voluntarily evacuate if the environment became sufficiently hostile. They instituted a blockade.
The blockade went into effect immediately. No food deliveries allowed. No medical supplies permitted through the lobby. Guards stood at the main doors checking identification.
Kitty's muscles deteriorated faster under the physical strain. She couldn't walk. When the phone lines went dead, the fourth floor lost contact with the press. The government waited for the quiet.
Kitty dropped to the floor. She realized the barricades were designed for standing adults. The police had blocked the hallways at waist height. They hadn't blocked the linoleum.
The floors were covered in cigarette ash and spilled coffee. She dragged her body through it. She crawled under the barricades to reach the restricted elevator shafts and unguarded offices.
She carried notes in her pockets. She found a single working payphone the FBI missed. She called the local news desks. She called the mayor's office.
She crawled back. When her arms failed, someone pulled her by her ankles. The Black Panthers heard the news reports. They crossed the police lines with hot meals. The FBI could not stop them without a riot.
They shut off the elevators, so she crawled.
The occupation lasted twenty-five days. It remains the longest non-violent occupation of a federal building in American history. On April 28, the Secretary of HEW signed the regulations without a single alteration.
The protesters left the building the next morning. They went back to their apartments. The Rehabilitation Act regulations laid the groundwork for every accessibility law that followed. The HEW building still stands on United Nations Plaza. The elevators run on a schedule. The doors are heavy glass.
Kitty Cone: the woman who crawled under the barricades.
Source: Kitty Cone's oral history, Bancroft Library.
Verified via: National Museum of American History.
(Some details summarized for brevity.)
saw a meme so pappy-coded, it had me drawing him again after months haha :')
daisuke w the og ethics + the og meme under the cut
i've been phasing the phrase 'google it' out of my vocabulary and going back to 'look it up'. fuck you youve lost your generic trademark privileges

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creature-y witches
thinking a lot about how over the years, that evil man (NG) has alluded to the fact that he identifies with Crowley. from the novel's description of the character's appearance (looks kind of like Lou Reed, proud of his cheekbones, etc), to his emotional state (Crowley's rush to the burning bookshop in S1 supposedly being representative of NG's desperation to save Terry Pratchett from death), even NG and Terry's wardrobe choices when Good Omens was first published (NG in black, Terry in Aziraphalean white).
to be clear, I don't think that NG (a bad man!) is Crowley, or even all that analagous to him. but his admissions, however coy, are interesting to me given what we now know: despite being revealed as a sexual predator, regardless of the fact that fans were told he'd not be involved in S3, NG fathered the "finale" with the help of his little horror pals. (notably, those very pals protest his innocence in the face of blindingly awful allegations of sexual abuse.)
the significance, for me, is that so much of the finale felt unbalanced. the push-and-pull between Aziraphale and Crowley, the playfulness and pettiness and overwhelming care, are absent. instead, we get an Aziraphale who is cold, removed, cowardly. Crowley, meanwhile, is something of a martyr: disgraced, publicly humiliated, stripped of his powers, yet somehow still the only really noble personality. it turns out, S3 tells us, Crowley wasn't just the Serpent of Eden who shepherded mankind toward knowledge. he was the best angel ever, and he's been right all along, and now he gets to decide what happens with the universe! spoiler alert: he wipes out everything, including himself and Aziraphale--his best friend.
so much here is inconsistent with the established story as to be ridiculous, and at first I attributed this purely to bad and lazy writing. but now I lean toward another reading: NG is using Crowley as proxy.
an author who's spent the last couple of years wallowing in self-pity and resentment, the back alleys of his mind, isn't interested in accountability. he chooses to broadcast how mean everyone has been to our poor hero, how patiently he's borne the scorn of lesser minds. and now, in his final act of creation, he chooses to nuke the known universe. he decides oblivion is preferable to his own abjection, and he won't go alone: he takes custody of his best friend's memory, his very name, with him.
Ally as HJ dials down in intensity,"I'm trying to throw a little sauce on it."
Lou as LaVonte with hearts in his eyes "Hey, you know I dont know a little sauce on my Wingstreet."
summer girls yayyyy

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HJ having almost negative rizz, MECHANICALLY, is maybe the funniest shit. Because it means his unsettling weirdo vampire swag is what won LaVonte over. That vampiric intensity and hunger. LaVonte looked at that and went, “forever sounds cool, let me do the talking though.”
And they were roommates
the concept of being lavonte and feeling like you don’t know hj anymore, like you’re losing him - he’s buying sweet potatoes and giving you basil plants and he’s mellowing out and you’re starting to worry he is NOT the guy you signed up to eternity with - then he snaps back to himself for a moment and he’s wild and crazy and recognisable to you and he tells you to get rid of the basil plant that he left you in your coffin.
but you keep it. and you look after it.