perseus-notjackson

[perseus-notjackson]

[perseus-notjackson]

189/327 (KO-FI♡)

S9E17, “Mother’s Little Helper”

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snoopy image of the day

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Me: yeah in the future we make fun of hipsters again. But we don't call them that, we call them "guys into stomp clap hey" and joke about how they like mediocre overpriced burgers and make podcasts

The 2010s fandom blogger I time traveled to, visibly shaking: can we please go back to that thing you said about destiel

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it’s 2028. trump is dead. elon is dead. zuckerberg is dead bezos is dead they’re all dead

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I saw this on Facebook and had to look it up. It really happened, albeit the details are different. From Homesteading Space: The Skylab Story:

"On the evening of MD-46, I finally played the trick that had been in work for over two month," said Garriott. "It even had the flight controllers puzzled for twenty-five years! My objective was to pretend that my wife, Helen, had come up to Skylab to bring us a hot meal, even though this was an obvious impossibility. Here is how the scheme worked. I recorded her voice on my small hand-held tape recorder before flight, pretending to have a brief conversation with a Capcom, with time gaps for his replies. The Capcom would be my only accomplice, but his role would be carefully disguised.

It was also necessary to have some recent event mentioned to validate the currency of the dialogue, so it would seem it could not have been recorded before fight. The short dialogue is printed below in its entirety. I knew that both Bob Crippen and Karl Henize were going to be Capcoms for Skylab, so they were brought into the planning, given the script and rehearsed on their timing. They kept the short script on a piece of paper in their billfolds, awaiting the right moment.

"For our flight in August-September, there would be many occasions of natural disasters involving forest fires or hurricanes, which would be widely known throughout the United States. So a few comments about one or the other were made on the tape. This led to four different scripts being recorded, one for each of the two Capcoms and one each for the two natural events. I would play the tape on the normal air-to-ground voice link with my wife's recorded voice and the Capcom would respond as if totally surprised by the female interloper."

Near the end of one period of voice contact Garriott said to the ground, "I'll have something for you on the next pass, Bob." Crippen replied, "Roger that, Owen." Then quietly and surreptitiously, he reviewed the brief script that had been in his pocket for all these weeks. Soon after coming into voice range, the ground heard this voice on the standard air-to-ground link:

Skylab (a female voice): "Gad, I don't see how the boys manage to get rid of the feedback berween these speakers.... Hello Houston, how are you reading me down there? (s sec. pause) Hello Houston, are you reading Skylab?"

Capcom: "Skylab, this is Houston. We heard you alright, but had difficulty recognizing your voice. Who do we have on the line up there?"

Skylab: "Hello Houston. Roger. Well I haven't talked with you for a while. Isn't that you down there, Bob? This is Helen, here in Skylab. The boys hadn't had a good home cooked meal in so long, I thought I'd bring one up. Over"

Capcom: "Roger, Skylab. Someone's gotta be pulling my leg, Helen. Where are you?"

Skylab: "Right here in Skylab, Bob. Just a few orbits ago we were looking down on those forest fires in California. The smoke sure covers a lot of territory, and, oh boy, the sunrises are just beautiful! Oh oh..... See you later, Bob. I hear the boys coming up here and I'm not supposed to be on the radio."

"Then quiet returned to the voice link, but we were told later, Bob Crippen had lots of questions coming his way in the Control Center," Garriott said. "What was going on? Where was this voice coming from? Bob must have been a very good actor, because he claimed complete ignorance and innocence of how it happened. Everyone heard it coming down on the air-to-ground loop. The whole two-way conversation sounded like a perfectly normal dialogue. No breaks or gaps, and they all heard Bob respond in real time. Could I have recorded Helen's voice on a 'family conversation' from our home? Yes, but there was no recent one. How would she have known about the fires, or who was to be on Capcom duty and how could she respond to Bob's comments in real time, as everyone could hear?

"No one ever worked out how this was accomplished. Finally, at our twenty-fifth reunion celebration in Houston in 1998, and with many of the flight directors and controllers present and still with no clue as to how it was done, I described it all as above. My prejudiced opinion is that this was the best 'gotcha' ever perpetrated on our friendly flight controllers!"

Crippen recalled: "That was kind of a fun trick. There was head rubbing.

Everybody in the MOCR, or the control room, was looking like, What the hell is going on?' We did a good job. It was fun. Working those missions got to be tough. We did all kinds of things to try to come up with levity. That was a nice one that the crew got that the ground control didn't know about."

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wc: 1.2K+ | rated: M | tags: Gareth POV, pre-steddie, Gareth and Jeff don't get paid enough to be Eddie's besties, talk about awkward sexual experiences a/n: no one asked but here's part two from Gareth's POV of the silly ficlet I posted yesterday. You can read part 1 here but this can be read by itself if you want.

“Was that…” Jeff does a double-take, watching as Steve’s usually perfectly combed hair flops around as he races for his Beamer parked across the street. 

“God damn Eddie,”  Gareth snorts, continuing on his path to their front door. “Five bucks says Eddie did something embarrassing.” 

“I’m not betting against that,” Jeff scoffs. 

Gareth expects to find his best friend curled up on the sofa, throwing a one-man pity party, given how fast Steve was fleeing their apartment. What he finds, instead, is Eddie hunched over the kitchen sink, groaning like he’s been kicked in the balls. 

Gareth looks at Jeff; he’s no Eddie way longer than Gareth has. Maybe this is some weird Eddie ritual he’s never witnessed. The confused look on Jeff’s face says otherwise. Gareth shakes his head and approaches Eddie with caution. 

“Eddie, man, uh, what are you doing?” 

Eddie startles, his head whipping back so hard and so fast, Gareth’s pretty sure he’s going to give himself whiplash along. “What are you guys doing here?” 

Gareth doesn’t bother answering Eddie’s stupid question, jumping straight to the point instead. “Dude, what the fuck did you do to your eye?” It’s squinted and red. Puffy in a way that resembles a black eye, but Eddie knows that ice is the best medicine for those, not flushing it out under the sink. 

Eddie shakes his head, cheeks turning a pale pink color as he turns away from them. He shoves his head back under the faucet, letting the cool water run through his eyes for a moment before finally shutting the faucet off. Jeff passes Eddie a paper towel and guides him to the janky barstool they got off the side of the road years ago. Gareth probably should help, but he’s too busy trying to figure out what the fuck he’s walked into. 

Steve fleeing…

Eddie’s red eye…

It’s all connected, he knows it. He just doesn’t know how. 

“What happened?” Jeff tries, much less hostile than Gareth’s attempt. 

Eddie groans, letting his head thunk against the kitchen counter. “If I say you have to promise not to tell anyone. Not even Freak. This is blood oath levels of serious.” Jeff nods, always giving in to Eddie’s nonsense. Gareth, on the other hand, looks at him skeptically. “I’m fucking serious, Gareth. This doesn’t leave this room, or else you’ll be on the next plane back to fucking Hawkins, Indiana, and out of my will.” 

Gareth snorts, “You don’t have a will. You don’t even have a fucking death napkin.” 

“Gareth Emerson!” Eddie snaps. 

Gareth shoots his hands up in surrender. If Eddie’s full naming him, he means business. Gareth knows better than to challenge him on this — he learned that lesson years ago. 

“Okay,” Eddie says, rubbing a hand down the side of his face that isn’t hidden behind the damp paper towel. “So, Steve was here—“ 

“Yeah, we saw him running for the hills before we came in.” 

Eddie glares at Gareth. Right, this is probably the time he should shut up. 

“Steve was here,” Eddie starts again. “And we were, well, I’m going to be totally straight with you guys, we were heavily making out. There was a vibe, you know, so I slunk down on my knees and started undoing that stupid belt he always wears and—“ 

“Eddie, man, spare us the details, please,” Gareth gags.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Steve finished… in my eye.” 

“Why the fuck was your eye near his dick?” Jeff asks, voice almost too calm for the absurd question he’s proposed. 

“Yeah, man, I mean, I’ve never given a dude a blowjob before, but I’m pretty sure that’s poor technique on your part.” 

“You guys are assholes, you know that,” Eddie rages, shoving himself and the chair away from the counter. He gets to his feet and flips both of them off. 

“We’re just trying to understand,” Jeff says, trying his best to placate Eddie. 

“It wasn’t my fault! I didn’t even get my mouth on him,” Eddie whines, then stops. His rosy face turns ashen in an instant, eyes bugging back out. “Shit, fuck, pretend you didn’t hear that.” 

“Huh, I didn’t peg Harrington for a two pump chump.” 

“Gareth, I swear I will make sure every girl you so much as glance at hears that you have a terrible case of genital warts if you repeat this story to anyone.” 

“Well, then I’ll—“ 

“Wait,” Jeff says, interrupting Gareth’s half-baked threat. “If Steve’s the one who…finished… then why was he running away like you scared him off?” 

“I told you that guy was a fucking douchebag, but no one ever listens to Gareth.” 

“Maybe it’s because you refer to yourself in the third person,” Eddie deadpans. He ignores Gareth’s outburst, focusing on Jeff instead. “His fleeing might have, uh, been my fault.” 

“Did you ask him to cum in your eye?” 

“No, of course not, I’m a freak but not like that!” 

“Well, then, how was it your fault?” Gareth asks. 

“After it happened, I yelled, ‘Oh my god, get out,’ and I think Steve took that literally,” Eddie says, rubbing his hand down his face again. “But that’s not what I meant. I meant like “oh my god,” I can’t believe I made Steve “the Hair” Harrington” cum without even touching him, not get out of my house, you know?” 

Gareth is not high or drunk enough for this conversation. In fact, he’s stone-fucking-cold sober. He needs to recitfit that ASAP if he’s going to make it to the end of this conversation, so he heads straight for the fridge and grabs a bear. He doesn’t even bother with the bottle opener, opening it on the edge of the counter instead before taking a long swig. 

“He’s never going to want to see me ever again,” Eddie groans, burying his face in his hands as he throws himself back down on the barstool. Jeff has to steady it to keep it from toppling over. 

Gareth can’t believe he’s about to defend fucking Harrington. Jesus Christ, what is the world coming to? “Come on, man, put yourself in his shoes. He’s got this legendary reputation, right, and then he blows it—“ His choice of words gets a laugh out of Eddie, and Gareth considers that a win. “— in the span of two seconds in front of the former freak of Hawkins High? That’s pretty fucking embarrassing.” 

“I thought it was hot,” Eddie admits, not even pretending to be embarrassed. 

“We’re not the ones who need to hear that!” Gareth shouts, covering his ears with his hands like a petulant child. 

Jeff shoots him a look. “What Gareth means is, you need to tell Steve that.” 

“You think he’ll listen?” 

“If he’s as good a dude as you claim he is now, then yeah,” Gareth adds. 

“Alright, fine. You two have convinced me. I’ll go over there, but if this blows up in my face, you owe me beer and weed for two weeks.” 

“But if it doesn’t, you can’t fuck Steve in our kitchen again.” 

“Oh, we weren’t in the kitchen,” Eddie says, collecting his keys from the cookie tin they use as a catch-all bowl. “We were doing it on the couch.” 

“Eddie!” 

“Man, what the fuck is that’s so much worse!” 

Eddie’s manic laughter carries him out the door. Gareth slinks against the kitchen counter when the door slams shut. He turns to Jeff, “We’re going to regret this, you know.” 

“Five bucks says I walk in on them going at it in a week,” Jeff says. 

“A week? Try three days.” 

“You’re on.” 

If he’s going to play fucking wingman for Steve fucking Harrington, he should at least get some money out of it. 

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Steve Harrington In Every Episode ↳ 1.06 The Monster

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I ❤️ bitching and moaning

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good dynamic: character who’s too deeply rooted to a fault + character who’s never been able to form roots anywhere before

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Man Im sorry for snapping at you , uts just that I only got 8 hours of sleep last night and I only had like, two pandcakes with strawberrys and whipped cream and like three premium sausags for breakfast

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i hate viruses so fucking much. literally getting attacked by a fucking shape. a concept. consumes no energy. responds to no stimuli. its only existence is to fuck with you. like fuck offf

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frankly i feel absolutely no, probably even negative, kinship with childfree people who hate children lol that’s not why i’m childfree… i’m actually childfree because i love and respect children enough to know that i am not the kind of person to give them the kind of childhood and parent they rightfully deserve