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Atla nation, come get y'all's juice

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Terry wrote 75% of Good Omens <3 video link <3

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Unmute !

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. Kingfisher Feathers by Anonymous I binge read this fic the whole afternoon and lets just say I am inlove 🥺♥ political drama + wangxian = heaven

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I'm usually pretty indifferent to dance and I'm not sure why this showed up in my YouTube feed, but it's remarkably compelling and the level of talent on show here is wild. Well worth a watch.

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the older I get, the more the technological changes I've lived through as a millennial feel bizarre to me. we had computers in my primary school classroom; I first learned to type on a typewriter. I had a cellphone as a teenager, but still needed a physical train timetable. my parents listened to LP records when I was growing up; meanwhile, my childhood cassette tape collection became a CD collection, until I started downloading mp3s on kazaa over our 56k modem internet connection to play in winamp on my desktop computer, and now my laptop doesn't even have a disc tray. I used to save my word documents on floppy discs. I grew up using the rotary phone at my grandparents' house and our wall-connected landline; my mother's first cellphone was so big, we called it The Brick. I once took my desktop computer - monitor, tower and all - on the train to attend a LAN party at a friend's house where we had to connect to the internet with physical cables to play together, and where one friend's massive CRT monitor wouldn't fit on any available table. as kids, we used to make concertina caterpillars in class with the punctured and perforated paper strips that were left over whenever anything was printed on the room's dot matrix printer, which was outdated by the time I was in high school. VHS tapes became DVDs, and you could still rent both at the local video store when I was first married, but those shops all died out within the next six years. my facebook account predates the iphone camera - I used to carry around a separate digital camera and manually upload photos to the computer in order to post them; there are rolls of undeveloped film from my childhood still in envelopes from the chemist's in my childhood photo albums. I have a photo album from my wedding, but no physical albums of my child; by then, we were all posting online, and now that's a decade's worth of pictures I'd have to sort through manually in order to create one. there are video games I tell my son about but can't ever show him because the consoles they used to run on are all obsolete and the games were never remastered for the new ones that don't have the requisite backwards compatibility. I used to have a walkman for car trips as a kid; then I had a discman and a plastic hardshell case of CDs to carry around as a teenager; later, a friend gave my husband and I engraved matching ipods as a wedding present, and we used them both until they stopped working; now they're obsolete. today I texted my mother, who was born in 1950, a tiktok upload of an instructional video for girls from 1956 on how to look after their hair and nails and fold their clothes. my father was born four years after the invention of colour televison; he worked in radio and print journalism, and in the years before his health declined, even though he logically understood that newspapers existed online, he would clip out articles from the physical paper, put them in an envelope and mail them to me overseas if he wanted me to read them. and now I hold the world in a glass-faced rectangle, and I have access to everything and ownership of nothing, and everything I write online can potentially be wiped out at the drop of a hat by the ego of an idiot manchild billionaire. as a child, I wore a watch, but like most of my generation, I stopped when cellphones started telling us the time and they became redundant. now, my son wears a smartwatch so we can call him home from playing in the neighbourhood park, and there's a tanline on his wrist ike the one I haven't had since the age of fifteen. and I wonder: what will 2030 look like?

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Parallels - Good Omens Seasons One & Two - Part One

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Some of your books make it seems like you believe in actual literal magic, do you? ()

I can write down a few words and make people thousands of miles away, whom I have never met and will never meet, laugh tears of joy and cry tears of true sorrow for people who do not exist and have never existed and never will exist. If that isn't actual literal magic I don't know what is.

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仙乐

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Hello!! I have a question about the ending of s2 ep6 (loved the season by the way!!)

What lead you to making Crowley kiss aziraphale? In the past i recall you mentioning that you felt unsure to stray too far from the original material or say anything new about their relationship without Terry Pratchett being here so i wonder what caused you to change your mind? Not complaining, just curious :)

I said I wasn't going to change anything about the nature of their relationship in the first book, and I didn't. I know what Terry and I had planned for the sequel, though.

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this is the funniest thing i've seen in a while

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#KPAPPRECIATION ⇢ Week 6: Favorite Quote

Leave. Huh? I’ll tell everyone you died in the woods—so you can go back to your brother… open up a bar… just like you’ve always dreamed of. Why? I don’t know.

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hate that english makes you say things like "that that" and "do do"

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by Torino Koji

Alexander had been riding in the back of the truck for a little over an hour, jostling about as it made its way down the dirt road. It had only been dirt for the past few minutes, but that was long enough that Alexander could feel it in his bones, through the padding of his heavy work jacket and the bulky jeans he was wearing. It was all new, unused, starchy and stiff. He’d bought it after the last job, an upgrade from things going threadbare and stained. Now, the only thing that looked like he’d worn them in was the boots — heavy stock boots that were scuffed at the toe and heel, that were creased around the ankles, that had had the laces traded out for something sturdier than when he’d bought them a couple years back. They would serve for at least one more season, and probably another whole year, before he had to start saving up for something new. As the truck made its way down the dirt road, Alexander looked around. He’d never worked in the Dakotas before, but the work was taking him slowly east, and these were the next that he had managed to find a job at.

He wasn’t expecting much. Traveling work like this tended to work for a season, maybe two, and then it was on to the next. He’d seen the posting when he was back in Montana, and it had taken time to track down a way to get in contact. By the time he got to North Dakota, he thought he’d missed the chance and would need to head on. But, here he was. He’d managed to get a ride the last leg of the way, and was hopeful that there would still be room by the time they parked.

He didn’t know if the lady driving the truck had other reasons to head out to this ranch, or if she just knew the area and had taken pity on a baby-faced twenty-something in fresh clothes and worn in boots. It didn’t matter much either way, looking around at the landscape and considering how the mountains and fields had changed from when he’d started in eastern Washington, made his way south, then northeast, and now was looping back south again. It would be easier, probably, if he just stopped at some point. If he found permanent work. But Alexander could never stay in any one place for very long. It wasn’t in his nature — or in the cards, as he’d rolled through job after job.

The truck turned down another dirt and gravel road, this one with a sign reading Double Bar Cattle and Stud. Alexander twisted a little to get a good look at the ranch sign, checking it against the flier he’d picked up in Montana, and in town, just to be sure that this was the right one. So far, so good.

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