words-in-the-heart said: Angel's ten favorite pieces of modern technology?

notbecauseofvictories:

1793. 
Angelus’s favorite invention had been the flintlock pistol. A bit messy, perhaps, if you hit an artery directly, and yes, it wasn’t very sporting (the cat lets the mice run, Dru sing-songed, or else it spoils the soup)

…but since when were they sporting?

Just like tapping a tree, my love, he’d tell Darla, and fire.

1905.
Angel had liked gas lamps, the forgiving light of them, the shadows they cast, the lamplighters of New York, who kept the same hours and called him by name.

Electricity didn’t smell of anything.

1913.
He rode the Overland Route so many times that the rocking of it was lodged somewhere in his bones, mountains emblazoned on the back of his eyelids. At night he would climb onto the roof of the car and lay there, wind tugging at his shirt-tails, looking up at the stars.

1923.
The first time he heard a Victrola played, his soul (twenty years in and still raw, aching, ill-fitted under his skin) had burned, overwhelming and brutal as death. Angel had panicked, he had thought this some fresh twist of the curse—

It wasn’t until he saw the woman beside him smiling so beatifically that he remembered—joy.

1948.
There’s a shoebox somewhere around of the Polaroids he took—chorus girls smiling over the rim of their champagne flutes, Bugsy Siegel with his tie askew, the main street lit like daylight (though it looks dinky, hokey compared to the sprawling behemoth Las Vegas became.) There are flashy cars in the sunlight, smiles, cowboy hats and hills.

There are a few of him, mixed in there—when someone wrenched the camera from his hands, forced him to sit still. Don’t you want to be immortalized? they’d always ask, laughing, before the shutter clicked.

In those few photographs at the bottom of that shoebox, Angel looks suddenly fully of grief.

1969. 
He was two hundred and fifty, crowded around a television in the back room of some shithole bar with more than a few half-drunk demons and one mildly disapproving bartender. When, They had watched the grainy footage silently, everyone holding their breath as a man in white stepped out, onto the grey surface of another world, and said for mankind.

Damn, one of the demons breathed softly. Look at that. Nothing but fire and a tin can, and the little monkeys actually did it. They did it.

Angel was silent, thinking of those two men, millions of miles from the earth, defying the cold silence of eternity just by breathing. Just with hope.

1997.
Buffy gave him a Tamagotchi once, because—well. Buffy.

It was inexplicably still in his pocket the day he was resurrected from Hell; it was still there the day he finally said goodbye to her. But he lost it somehow, moving to Los Angeles, or it got left behind, or—

He hoped its new owner was feeding it properly.

2003.
Search engines. He might still type with his pointer fingers and get confused about which buttons do what, but the day he realized that someone had scanned most of the really important 17th century grimoires and made them keyword-searchable was the day he surrendered to the computer age.

The day he stumbles onto Cordy’s audition reel, it’s like—

He’d forgotten how bright her smile was.


+1
He really likes his rolodex, okay? So everyone can just stop with the 80s jokes.

(Reblogged from notbecauseofvictories)

Chelsea Peretti and Melissa Fumero are angels from heaven.

Every day on set I learn more from and about them, and therefore more about myself. They are hilarious, supportive, vulnerable, and lovable – the best work BFFs I could have asked for. Every time one of them nails something in a scene, it feels like a victory for me. Maybe another combo of women would have created a competitive feeling (DON’T YOU REMEMBER MEAN GIRLS, YOU GUYS??), but not so with these two. I can go to them for advice, and they help me see things from another perspective. Recently, I asked Mel a question and then finished with a “sorrrrry.” She told me to stop apologizing for myself and I immediately thought SHIT, she’s right, I do that all the time. I may not have been able to see that if it had come from another close friend, but there’s something about the work friendship dynamic that’s really special and enlightening in that way. And I’ve got their backs, too. I have a deep desire to see these women succeed and fly in every aspect of their lives. ANGELS I TELL YOU.”

Stephanie Beatriz: 5 Things Working On ‘Brooklyn Nine-Nine’ Taught Me (x)

(Reblogged from chasethememories)

(Source: indigoisbetter)

(Reblogged from llsmutant)

fredscience:

The Doorway Effect: Why your brain won’t let you remember what you were doing before you came in here

I work in a lab, and the way our lab is set up, there are two adjacent rooms, connected by both an outer hallway and an inner doorway. I do most of my work on one side, but every time I walk over to the other side to grab a reagent or a box of tips, I completely forget what I was after. This leads to a lot of me standing with one hand on the freezer door and grumbling, “What the hell was I doing?” It got to where all I had to say was “Every damn time” and my labmate would laugh. Finally, when I explained to our new labmate why I was standing next to his bench with a glazed look in my eyes, he was able to shed some light. “Oh, yeah, that’s a well-documented phenomenon,” he said. “Doorways wipe your memory.”

Being the gung-ho new science blogger that I am, I decided to investigate. And it’s true! Well, doorways don’t literally wipe your memory. But they do encourage your brain to dump whatever it was working on before and get ready to do something new. In one study, participants played a video game in which they had to carry an object either across a room or into a new room. Then they were given a quiz. Participants who passed through a doorway had more trouble remembering what they were doing. It didn’t matter if the video game display was made smaller and less immersive, or if the participants performed the same task in an actual room—the results were similar. Returning to the room where they had begun the task didn’t help: even context didn’t serve to jog folks’ memories.

The researchers wrote that their results are consistent with what they call an “event model” of memory. They say the brain keeps some information ready to go at all times, but it can’t hold on to everything. So it takes advantage of what the researchers called an “event boundary,” like a doorway into a new room, to dump the old info and start over. Apparently my brain doesn’t care that my timer has seconds to go—if I have to go into the other room, I’m doing something new, and can’t remember that my previous task was antibody, idiot, you needed antibody.

Read more at Scientific American, or the original study.

(Reblogged from fredscience)

cleolinda:

cinematicnomad:

apparently e.l. james called former child star mara wilson (matilda) a “sad fuck” for critiquing the 50shades books a while ago and now there’s a feud. i love it.

(Reblogged from cleolinda)

heidyiam:

I’m fine.

(Reblogged from heidyiam)

truebluemeandyou:

rainbowsandunicornscrafts:

DIY Harry Potter TIme Turner Necklace Tutorial from 30 Minute Crafts. This is part of 2 weeks of Harry Potter DIYs by a group of bloggers. For more Harry Potter DIYs go here: truebluemeandyou.tumblr.com/tagged/harry-potter and for DIY Kids Jewelry go here: unicornhatparty.com/tagged/kids-jewelry 

(Reblogged from truebluemeandyou)

So tumblr,

atwellling:

How would you write this perfect, flawless Strong Female Character (TM)  you keep clamoring for? 

I would really like to know, because no female character seems to be good enough for you. You constantly write about how X character was written the “wrong way” and how Y character had “so much wasted potential”, etc. because they don’t live up to your impossibly high standards of what a strong female character is supposed be like.

So, tell us how you would do it since, apparently no one ever has written an awesome multifaceted female character. And we’re all wrong for stanning these cold hearted but too emotional, too weak but too strong, too independent and too co-dependent, too useful but useless damsels in distress who are just stealing the male character’s spotlight and acting OOC when they save the day?

(Reblogged from atwellling)

claudiablacks:

get to know me meme - [2/10] female characters
  ↳ olivia dunham

"We’ve accomplished a lot together, Walter. But she may be our greatest achievement."
(Reblogged from llsmutant)

(Source: marthajcnes)

(Reblogged from fuckyeahmarthajones)