It is so rare that I like a sitcom, but this one is smart and funny, and the actors terrific.
I'm pretty sure this fanfic was inspired by the Game of Thrones characters Daenerys and Khal Drogo but the relationship is completely different: Derek is not abusive (just kind of akward) and Stiles is treated badly only by his brother. I know it was published on ao3 and completed, not sure if it was one chapter or not.
Does anyone recognize this? I've been trying to find it for a while but have come up empty handed.
Thank you in advance for your help!
(I don't think canon tells us which was Jim Prideaux's college, so I decided it was Trinity. )
As our flight was not until after lunch, this morning after we'd packed and put our luggage in store we went to the Hipolit House: more historical domestic interiors, plus exhibition on the actress Antonina Hoffman and on theatre/acting more generally in C19th. Rather interesting.
Of the journey, not a great deal to be said except for the enormous distances walked within airports.
Anyway, ome agen.
It is shaping up to be more of a Trek show, and dealing with serious issues. And there have been variations in the dramatic approaches Trek shows have taken to tackling difficult issues. Classic Trek, Kirk could redo entire societies and fix all their problems with a good brawl with the world's leader. I loved classic Trek for that enduring belief that solutions were always possible.
ST:TNG was not always so optimistic. I remember the episode (I'm a bad fan, I don't know the title) where Crusher is kidnapped by freedom fighters/terrorists who are using a personal teleportation device, and she determines that device is causing their health issues, but they refuse to stop using it, as it is their only advantage against the dominant culture. The ST:TNG crew rescues her and then... (as I recall, it's been a long time)...they leave. It seemed a realistic ending, and something of a commentary on the Middle East, that no, America, you can't stumble into a situation you don't understand well, and fix it. But mostly I remember that sense of ... huh. Wow, that's a bummer. Where's Kirk? Kirk woulda fixed this and left those two groups on the way to a happy bonding.
( spoilers for the third episode of The Orville )
I was pleased that Kasidy Yates from Deep Space Nine is a regular, good to see her again, and that Bashir's father had a guest role in the pilot. It was a mini-DSN reunion, yay.
I mean. My daily average is 2km. Again - of running. Per. Day!
This totally merited a whole post of me kind of boggling at/feeling accomplished about this particular lifestyle change and achievement.
But today's run did not go as planned. I was on a pedestrian/cycle path, crossing a local green space when three young teen boys cycled towards me - rudely taking up almost all the path, forcing me to the very edge as they passed - when
The shitty brats had thrown paint all over me. Fortunately nothing worse than paint - I can think of quite a few less pleasant options - but yeah. Bright neon pink paint on my face, neck, t-shirt, shorts, headphones and a bit on one of my shoes and in my hair. I was so shocked I fumbled getting my phone out and they were quite far away when I snapped a shot of them (but I do have one - and then I took one of my own paint-covered self).
I called the non-emergency police line, because this is Britain and I can do that without risking getting some kid shot. And it felt so good to report it and hear the lady I talked to call it ASSAULT and note down all the details so if this happens again there will be an incident report to link it to my case. I don't think anything is going to come of this, but I was offered victim support and asked if I wanted to follow up and generally got the impression the police agreed that this was Not OK and that I was right to have called them about it. It took the edge off my fury (I was so angry I was actually crying when I started the call) and by the time I made it home the report had been made and I could focus on getting sympathy from doctorskuld and wash the drying paint off.
Which it did, quite easily. The clothes are in the washer, but hopefully they'll be fine too. (Update: they're not fine. We're trying to find ways of getting the paint out of them, but...)
And I'm not angry anymore, but I know I'll feel uneasy the next time I run that particular stretch of path, and the next time teens - any teens - come biking towards me. Ugh.
But the worst part is that I was aiming at being at 55km for this month at the start of the week, and now I'm not. I had plans and goals and those kids just ruined it for absolutely no good reason except "lol lets throw paint at that woman". (There were plenty of other people out and about, and they only targeted me - I'm pretty sure because I'm a woman and slow and neither young nor athlete-lithe...)
Anyway my lovely wife has made portobello mushroom burgers for dinner and I am clean and warm and safe. And on Tuesday I'm making 55k for sure. ♥
( Under the cut: me, splashed in paint. )
2) This Stephen Colbert tweet and particularly the discussion following it was plenty funny. But it made me think about an issue I hadn't considered before. Do movies made elsewhere ever try to make up countries in North America? ( Read more... )
3) Boy does the Internet look weird when you're used to browsing without scripts and suddenly ADS! Clashing backgrounds! Video inserts! It's like being deaf and suddenly being blasted with sound. Yuck. (Makes me glad I rarely have the speakers on too...)
4) If only we had more of this kind of guy, who spends his time investigating corporate wrongdoing. "I can’t believe a year and a half after the financial crisis, no one is doing this stuff. I’m not talking about writing these massive, 10,000-word thumbsuckers about some crappy company that did something to a politically vulnerable population. I’m talking about companies that wake up every day and, using the imprimatur of the law, do things that are unconscionable and appalling."
5) Because of a cold snap at the start of September we brought in our hibiscus from the balcony -- the earliest we've had to do so.
( Read more... )
I've also got some photos up at common_nature about hummingbirds.
It's a strange book. Essentially, it's the story of a friendship between an elderly man and little girl, growing and developing across the space of years, but it's also a complicated web of allusions through which Smith considers questions of time, memory, love and art; key influences are Dickens (the opening sentence is "It was the worst of times, it was the worst of times") and Ovid's Metamorphoses although there are many others. Its time-hopping, non-linear format jumps between the aftermath of the Brexit vote (the novel was published last October and it was clearly written, fast, after the referendum), the 1990s, the Profumo scandal of the 1960s and World War 2 and the years immediately preceding it. It's funny and thought-provoking, melancholy and angry and also somehow hopeful. And the prose is beautiful and poetic. It's a short book, and a quick read, but I think it will stay with me.
2. Apple-picking with Mr. Kid today! This is one of our fall traditions and it is so sweet. The orchard is near our old house. Rows and rows of beautiful apple trees stretching toward fields and hills. And we got two bags of honeycrisps, my favorite apples of them all.
3. Related to the above, there is a granola-topped apple crisp cooling now on my counter. I'm also making a chicken curry in the slow cooker to eat all week, and I've cooked up some ground turkey and vegetables with soy and sesame and cilantro and will add rice noodles to them later for dinner tonight.
4. Dishwasher (now running) and washing machine (also now running.) The fact that we have these appliances; the fact that we have power with which to run them.
5. Watching Mr. Kid gleefully play with Mr. Kitten, who has a catnip mouse and is carrying it proudly around the room in his mouth. I can't tell whether the catnip is making the kitten goofier, or whether this is just his natural three-month-old goofitude, but either way, it's adorbs.