#Capsule course

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Sprawling, never-updated, true 1967 time capsule in Lakewood, CA. 7bds, 6ba, 6,763sqft, asking $2.995m. This home was made for entertaining.

Wow, this is grand, but the gold shag carpet is 58 yrs. old and is it ever pilled. Look at that.

There's a brick bar with an awning, here by the family room.

Two pairs of French doors open to the patio. This is a big area for entertaining.

Then, off to the side of the formal sitting area there's a large open dining room.

Check out the elegant guest powder room.

The kitchen is original. It's very large, though, with 2 islands.

Large dining area in the kitchen has a very long counter on the left. You could set out a big buffet there. Plus, guests can walk right out to the pool.

Look at the huge rec room. It has a bar, also, plus access to the pool.

Here we have a guest room with a large bath and a door to the patio. The carpeting should be replaced, though, there're a lot of stains and possibly dry rot by this point.

The bedrooms are very large.

Original bath with blue fixtures and laminate counters.

Another bedroom suite. It's a large home with 7 bds.

The primary is very spacious and rounded with sliding doors to a terrace. The bed was on a raised platform and the carpet is in rough shape. Look at the built-in armoire.

Very large ensuite has a dressing area with a closet.

Family room with lots of built-in shelving, sliders to the garden, and that famous hanging electric fireplace.

The garden, patio and pool area are pretty nice.

.72 acre lot.

Just steps from the golf course.

The smaller building is a spacious attached office/den with its own private entrance and bedroom suite.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/4300-Parkview-Dr-Lakewood-CA-90712/21165596_zpid/?

[bardengarde]

The pilot episode of MASH starting with a caption "Korea, 1950, a hundred years ago" and the final episode before Goodbye, Farewell, and Amen being about burying a time capsule.... makes you think

[kazoosandfannypacks]

First page of my new sketchbook... decided to do a mixed media drawing of a collage! 🩷💜💛

[godblooded]

if you ever need a seriously insane pick-me-up, i have found every completely out of their mind abhorrent asshole known to man. aka one of my pointless special interests is i’ve seen almost every episode of dr. phil like twice.

[letterful]

speaking of harper. it turns out i am rather easily influenced.

[hklnvgl]

so i just casually started rereading the mirror i stare into after years and i (1) of course got super hooked, (2) didn't remember lots of important plot points, (3) am super proud of how polished the whole thing is considering the very little amount of editing time i put into it and (4) am really jarred by how i used to think that making pizza from scratch was equivalent to making like pasta from scratch or something

[piratesexmachine420]

It's interesting to note that all but one of the four manned spaceplane to make a flight above the 50 mile US definition of space have had a LOCV, namely:

X-15 no. 3 on X-15 Flight 3-65-97 (1967)

OV-099 Challenger on STS-51-L (1986)

OV-102 Columbia on STS-107 (2003)

VSS Enterprise (N339SS) on PF04 (2014)

Only SpaceShipOne avoided catastrophe. Perhaps that's because it was the safest of the bunch, perhaps it's only due to a small sample size of 15 non-captive flights. I lean towards the latter -- there were a lot of problems across those 15 flights.

[tzufcallsmeshomps]

Farfour noOo!!!1!!

[bucketofbugz]

me at 11:40 PM: "I'm just gonna do a quick run with a public lobby before I go to bed :))

me at 1:15 AM:

[raspberry-beret]

Film Weekend - Legally Blonde (2001)

Sorority girl Elle Woods goes to Harvard Law school to win back her ex-boyfriend. In the process, she disproves blonde stereotypes, combines intellectual studies and her strong, feminine personality and becomes a successful lawyer.

"I don't need back-ups. I'm going to Harvard."

[102ki]

hasunosora scary stories as told by rurino:

"the picture the AI drew"

this is a scary story that's been going around hasunosora lately. it happened to a student that we'll call A-san. when image generating AI first came out, A-san was in her room late at night experimenting with generating images on her computer. it could recreate animals, buildings, and landscapes well, but A-san thought they all felt creepy. and so she decided to ask the AI to draw the scariest picture in the world. a dialogue box appeared with the words, "this prompt may have adverse effects on your psyche. would you like to continue?" A-san's interest was piqued, and so she clicked yes. one minute later, an image appeared. it was an old black and white photo of an old woman in traditional japanese dress, her hands clasped together in prayer in a darkened tatami room. it was scary, but something about it drew A-san in. as she stared at it, she noticed that the woman's mouth was moving slightly. "what? this AI can't generate video. how strange," she thought, staring at the image, when suddenly the old woman's eyes widened and she glared at A-san with bloodshot red eyes. this time, her mouth was clearly moving, and she knew what she was saying. she was saying A-san's name. A-san fainted, and when she woke up in the morning, the image had disappeared, but the praying old woman began appearing in her dreams

"the girl in her dreams"

she heard this story from her friend's sister, who also went to hasunosora, and in her class there was a girl called B-san. B-san was worried, or rather, curious about something. the same girl appeared in her dreams every night. a thin, pale girl with bobbed hair that she had never met before. in her dreams the girl just stood a short distance away, watching her without a word. her dreams weren't about the girl, either. she'd dream about going somewhere with her friends, or seeing her family, but no matter what, the girl would be watching her. after about a month of the girl in her dreams every night, B-san realised that the girl had gotten closer. when she first appeared she had been watching her from ten metres away, but the distance had shrunk to just one metre. she tried to speak to her in her dreams, but for some reason, she couldn't. nothing particularly strange had happened, but she wanted to know why it was happening. one day, B-san got permission to go shopping, and she saw someone that looked just like the girl in her dreams. a thin, pale girl with bobbed hair. of course, it may have just been a coincidence, but B-san was so curious she secretly followed the girl, thinking she could figure her out. the girl left the shopping district and went on her way, and though B-san tried to follow behind she lost sight of her after she turned a corner. she looked around, and suddenly the girl appeared behind her. she hadn't noticed her at all, but suddenly she was close enough that she could touch her. B-san wanted to say something to her, but just like in her dreams she couldn't make a sound. scared, she tried to run away, but her body was frozen still. slowly, slowly, the girl approached, and whispered in her ear, "this night will be your last." nothing was heard from B-san since

"can i come in?"

this is a story from over ten years ago. a student named C-san was waiting at the bus stop on a day of heavy rain. then, in the woods behind the bus stop, she spotted a figure. it was a woman with long hair, staring in her direction. she was soaking wet, and yet she remained standing in the rain, not moving a muscle. C-san was frightened, but she mustered up the courage to talk to her. "are you alright? you're going to catch a cold," she called out, but the woman remained where she was with no response. after calling out to her several times, she finally answered. in a low voice, the woman said, "can i come in?" C-san was surprised, and before she could reply, the woman disappeared. nothing out of the ordinary happened after that, and C-san began to wonder if the encounter had any deeper meaning. later, when she got back to the dorms, she felt afraid out of nowhere, and so she decided to sleep in her friend's room that night. the next morning, when she returned to her own room, she found the floor covered in muddy footprints. the woman had been there. C-san noticed something. there were plenty of footprints leading into her room, but none leading out. the footprints travelled all the way to the back of her room, stopping in front of her closet.

[deus-ex-mona]

no one:

absolutely no one:

the radios of the most random of shops:

[kindahoping4forever]

just got home for holiday break and I'm excited for my favorite tradition: getting stressed by my chaotic family and unwinding every night with your holiday smut master list 🥰

Aww, I'm happy to hear you still enjoy those! I have such fond memories of putting that event together with @cal-puddies! And our Poly!Cashton story is still one of my fav collabs we did 🎄♥️

Hoe For The Hoe-lidays: A Holiday Fic Event Masterlist

[dapurinthos]

it's medication increase day yaaaay

may they do their job and take away this excess of black bile.

interesting to look back on hippocrates's list of qualifications for melancholia (excess of black bile) and see that it matches symptom for symptom 6/9 of a modern depressive episode.

[emilyaxford]

i'm applying for hybrid/in-person jobs because i don't think working fully remotely is great for me, which means that when i get one i'm going to have to buy some actual work clothing*. and i kind of want to go the steve jobs route and just wear the exact same thing every day. i have no interest in competing with the aritizia girlies and i don't really have a sense of style anymore, plus i'm sooo out of practice with having to pick a different outfit every day and frankly it now feels like a waste of time. but i don't know if this decision would be a cool-rebuttal-to-societal-standards-for women's-fashion-in-the-workplace decision or a going-to-alienate-you-from-your-peers decision

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Ignorantia Neminem Excusat [part 2]

[Ignorance excuses no one, lat.]

[ <- part 1 ]

Now that Tim thinks about it, it does look ominous.

A seven feet tall, cylindrical glass tube that emits a soft, slightly pulsing green glow, countless cords and wires plugged into its base. It made sense at the moment — a giant space station needs a giant power source — but right now, when Tim knows what that entitles, it's... he bites on his cheek and looks back down to the tablet he is holding.

"Ten more minutes," he says, his words echoing off the walls of the room. Tucker nods, not taking his eyes off the battery — or, rather, a containment device.

Tim doesn't look at him either. The twisted, nagging sense of guilt is eating him alive: it's been almost two weeks since the legally nonexistent boy demanded a meeting with Batman. Two weeks since they've learned that the Watchtower's shiny new power source is just a fancy name for a cage holding an interdimensional being.

If it was up to Tim, he would have broken this glass the moment they've got their hands on the extensive, irrefutable proof that Tucker all but threw in their faces. Unfortunately, that would have resulted in the whole Watchtower losing power and possibly going off-course, and they couldn't risk it.

Tucker, with his pale, eerily still eyes, understood it. He said a week or two won't make a difference at this point, and the one held inside the capsule would have been gravely offended if his rescue ended up in malfunction of a whole space station. He said he'll wait, and he kept his back straight and his head high as they've spent those two weeks tracking and locating various other batteries and setting the souls within them free.

The seconds tick by so slowly that Tim feels like all three of them — him, Tucker, and the ghost inside the tube — are stuck in amber. He looks down to his tablet again.

Nine more minutes until all the main systems are safely switched to an emergency generator.

"Tell me about them," he asks, surprising even himself with it. Tucker turns to look at him, his eyebrows raised, the green light of the battery making him look like something out of a horror movie. Specifically the zombie apocalypse one.

"About who?"

Tim nods to the capsule in front of them.

"You're not exactly subtle," he shrugs when Tucker just keeps silently staring at him. "The way you spoke about this particular cell sounded like, whoever is inside it, you know them personally."

The silence stretches for a few more seconds, clogging Tim's ears like someone poured honey inside them. Then, Tucker looks away, his gaze returning to the capsule.

"He was my best friend since kindergarten," he says, and the air gets stuck in Tim's throat. "And I watched him die."

The other spirits that they've freed, they were all ghosts, souls of the deceased, Tim knows that. Some of them looked like blobs — emotional imprints, Tucker said — others took forms of animals or plants. They've seen a few humanoid ones as well, but it was easy to distance himself from them, to not get attached or involved. They were just faceless civilians, in a sense, however morbid that sounds.

And now, the sudden reminder of the fact that all of them were living beings once, that they've had friends, and families, and maybe their whole lives in front of them, feels like a punch to the gut.

"It's a bit ironic," Tucker continues, a humorless smile on his lips, "He wanted to be an astronaut. He wanted to go to space," he almost laughs, and the unnatural light of the tube makes his features look sharper than they are, "Beware of what you wish for, or something like that, I guess."

Tim stays quiet, forgetting to pay attention to the timer on screen.

"He was- he still is kind of a hero in our hometown," Tucker continues, "If I had to compare, I'd say he's a mix of Superman and Flash — heart of gold, but his mouth runs faster than his brain sometimes. And he kept somewhat of a nice relationship with most of his rogues, you know. Friendly banter and occasional team-ups and stuff." He takes a deep, steadying breath, his sad, bitter smile fading.

"It's what got him in here," he adds, the words falling into the silence like a rock in a pond. Tim blinks.

"Being nice to his rogues?" He clarifies, and Tucker snorts.

"No, I meant the heart and the banter, but, in a sense, you're not wrong either. As far as the agency's records go, he was captured while he was rescuing one of them." Tucker turns to look at the tablet in Tim's hands, "How much more?"

Tim looks down, abruptly reminded of the reason they are here.

"Uh, three more minutes," he says, but then grimaces and changes his mind. Bruce and the rest of the League can go fuck themselves, honestly, "Actually, you might want to start now. Disconnecting it would take time anyway," he shrugs, as nonchalant as it's possible in these circumstances.

Tucker stares at him, his eerie eyes looking almost grateful for a moment. And then Tim blinks and finds him on the other side of the room, kneeling on the floor with his fingers dancing over the battery's control panel.

Tim breathes out and looks at the ticking timer on his tablet. Two minutes and forty-five seconds. Tucker is a tech genius, they've all had time to see and appreciate it in the last two weeks, so he is surely going to finish working on the capsule sooner than two minutes. Yet, Tim can't bring himself to really care — he knows Bruce has probably set the timer with a few minutes of delay, just to play it safe. But even if he didn't, it's not like Watchtower will fall down from the orbit after a two-minute blackout, so-

A loud hiss interrupts his musings, and when Tim raises his head, he sees the glass wall of the capsule opening slowly, reluctantly sliding to the left. He only has a brief moment to be surprised — he knew Tucker worked fast when he wanted, but not that fast — before some kind of thick, green substance starts pouring out of it. Yet, instead of spilling on the floor, it glimmers and fades into thin air like fog.

This hadn't happened with any other batteries, Tim thinks, but then the capsule finally opens completely, and-

That's a person.

A person who looks the same age as Tim, his skin and hair lacking any kind of color to it like it's all bled out. A faded picture of a human being.

The toxic-looking liquid around him keeps leaking, turning into clouds of greenish white, ice cold steam. It's kind of pretty; it would have made a great picture, or, maybe, a painting if you ignore all the implications that brought it to life.

When the colorless boy starts falling, Tim doesn't even notice how he drops his tablet. He steps forward, reaching his hands out to catch him.

A moment later, he is holding a ghost in his arms. He is surprisingly — or maybe not so, considering his species — light; it's like holding something that's only slightly denser than air.

The boy sluggishly moves, shifting in his arms. His white, floating hair gets into Tim's nose, and he huffs, trying not to sneeze.

There's a quiet, almost sleepy moan that feels like a vibration on Tim's skin, and the boy lifts his head.

Tim's heart skips a beat.

His eyes are bright green, and they hold the whole universe within them.

Tags:

@thewisperwitch @yassjr @calisto112 @failedbimboinstem @yesdangerpls @restedenergy00 @tf-wildstrike