My flu isn't all that bad, but I had a super weird flu dream about a world where if you died and your body hadn't been found yet, all your online accounts would keep posting in a mildly annoyed tone from the pov of the corpse. None of the posts were creepy, just stuff like "Stuck laying facedown in my bed forever #mybedforever," and because it happened somewhat regularly it was all treated pretty normally, some kind of “the spirit hasn’t moved on yet” schtick. And it'd be a little tragic to find out grandma died from her facebook post "the cat is sniffing my face... he can tell I'm not breathing but is so very polite and not eating me yet... 🤣🐈😿" but it'd kind of be last words in a way and at least more personal than hearing she died over the phone from some coroner.
The main awkward thing was sometimes the person behind a big tumblr would die and their tumblr would start corpse posting, but none of their mutuals know them irl to recover the body, so you're all stuck waiting as days pass and their account keeps corpse posting, with the knowledge that nobody from real life has checked on them, and that when someone eventually does they'll find a decaying corpse
daily mantras:
Everyone look at my fat and epic bug
Cirsium discolor is the one plant that Bombus pensylvanicus (the American bumblebee) specifically is fucking crazy for. I have LOADS of bumblebees right now, mostly Bombus impatiens, on my other plants but the field thistles specifically are attracting loads of these guys.
Since B. pensylvanicus is a threatened species, it is worthwhile to document what their favorite plants are, and this one seems to top the list. That's why I collected seeds from them, they had so many American bumblebees on them!
Most thistles I see around here are non-native thistles. But the non-native thistles bloom earlier than C. discolor, so maybe they are out of sync with the bumblebee lifecycle? Not sure.
C. discolor can be easily distinguished from most non-native thistles, at least in my state of Kentucky, by the fact that the undersides of its leaves are white, whereas with non-natives the leaf undersides are green just like the tops.
going to start calling it ethical monogamy. catch me giving a fuck
"i mean yeah it's fine that you're in a monogamous relationship, man, but, like, you're letting her have friends, right? she can go out and you won't freak out? her texts are private? she doesn't just say 'alright sure' every time you want to have sex? you interact with her friends and family without trying to make her look good? i just wanna make sure this monogamy is ethical"
the other week i was talking to a girl and she told me that her boyfriend made her cut off one of her friends (or only see him at group settings) because he was jealous. and in the meantime that man got shot and died. and she missed out on her last two years with him. and i started seeing fucking red
i've only seen it twice in two separate webcomics but i'd assume it's a more prevalent trope: the trans girl femboy who is definitely cis and is definitely just gender non-conforming to the point of frequently passing as being mistaken for a woman who helps someone else with THEIR gender confusion and makes her their his TME counterpart feel better about themselves. but she's definitely cis and we don't really have to worry about how she feels about being gendered.
my awesome transmisogynized doll who never asserts their gender and never challenges cisness, who exists to be a gender spectacle for someone else.
it's like the transmisogynized version of the manic pixie dream girl
fireflies lighting up a rural Pennsylvania field at dusk
pros of an original setting: you're not constrained by the politics, geography, history, or even physics of the real world even a little bit
cons of an original setting: you have to Name Everything now. Good luck!
actually sports are awesome because if i told you there was a piece of fiction with a sports veteran who everyone is constantly comparing to his prime and wondering if he's about to retire and if we're all just watching a swan song and that by the way his nickname starting up was 'the kid' you would tell me it was too on the nose. and yet.
if i told you about a guy having to hide in an airport and then hunker down in a foreign country waiting for a visa after his former team tried to steal his passport to keep him from going to play in another league you would say what is this a spy movie. happened to my good friend evgeni malkin though.
decided to draw some gen 1 sprites and here they are!
ppl are so mad in the replies to this tweet but op is literally right
I'm wondering what would have happened to Grace if Dubois and Shapiro hadn't died. Like yeah, sure, food chain collapse and ecological devastation and mass starvation and so on, but I'm wondering more immediately. Everyone but Grace knew Grace was Stratt's right hand arm man. Second in command of Project Hail Mary.
Maybe Stratt had some backup scheme to get him out of it, like a plea deal if he testified against her, or something. But it seems more likely he'd have been strung up beside her when the pitchforks came out. He just never really thought about it.
tags from op passed peer review:
#ryland grace king of strategically Not Thinking About It #this isn't to say I think Stratt did him a favor launching him into space #she did what she had to because it was by far the best option for mission success #but I think that might have been on her mind when she said 'if it's any consolation you'll die a hero' #if he had stayed on Earth he would have been.... not that #and I don't think he ever really thought that part through
Wait hold on tho, maybe I'm also not thinking it all the way through.
Because Grace isn't just Stratt's henchman. He's also the sole primary expert in the world's new miracle superfuel. He's in as good a position to be offered a golden parachute as anyone ever has been. And he'd take it. Of course he'd take it. He'd watch Stratt on the stand calmly accepting life imprisonment and tell himself she knew what she was getting into. That he's not at fault for her crimes just because he was standing next to her for most of them. He never suggested they pave the Sahara, he never pulled the trigger on Antarctica.
He doesn't share responsibility, thank you, and the sinking heavy feeling in his chest is anger over the raw deal Stratt was handed. It's not guilt.
When Stratt makes eye contact with him during the sentencing, and the corner of her mouth twists in that way it always does when something happens exactly the way she'd told him it would—a second cousin to a shared joke—it's not guilt that makes him stand up and leave the room. It's something else.
