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Soviet Birds.

The secret facility that I work in has holes in the ceiling. We don't know how to get them fixed.

We tried asking the government to fix it, once. We told them that the holes in the older parts of the facility had gotten large enough to fit birds through, and that birds were getting through, and that, perhaps, a Soviet Spy could fit through as well.

After all, it is well known that Soviet Spies and pigeons are approximately the same diameter.

Our hope was that that this vague and nonsensical threat would put a little fire under Uncle Sam's feet. If the fed couldn't be bothered to give a shit about the giant gaping holes in the roof of our facility, perhaps they could be persuaded to give a shit about... Soviet Spies.

This attempt at manipulation 100% blew up in our faces.

See, the government does not need to be persuaded to give a shit about Soviet Spies. It still wakes up most nights, drenched in cold sweat, terrified and confident that a Soviet Spy is hiding in their nightstand. If it sees a rock on the ground, it flips it over, pistol drawn, ready to shoot the Soviet Spy it fully expects to slither out from underneath. Which is to say: The government is crazy. So when we dropped those two words - inflitration risk - in the repair request, they came in guns-a-blazin'.

Does that mean that they fixed the roof? Of course not. Don't be stupid. No, instead of performing basic maintenance, they installed a state of the art alarm system throughout the facility - lasers, sonar, the works - and told us to always be on the guard. Because of the roof holes.

Then they left.

So now we had an extremely good alarm system... and birds. Which have combined in incredibly obvious and predictable ways to produce an unending fountain of problems.

For Example: About once a month, someone gets called in by the local airforce dispatch because AAAAAAAAAAA a Spy is in the Rad Lab! We're all gonna die! Except every time, it's a bird. And I get why we have to check, but every time, the dispatcher is panicked and the person going out has to be like listen, listen: It's a bird. It's always a bird. It's been a bird every month for the last fifteen years. It will be a bird next month. All this stress? Bad for your heart.

Second Example: Sometimes, birds get in while we're actually working. And when it's in the morning, you know, it's a nuisance, and it stops testing (we are not going to risk irradiating a bird) but it's not an all-hands-on-deck situation because it doesn't take ten hours to get a bird out. But surprisingly often, the bird gets in riiiiight at closing time, and in that situation, everyone goes feral because nobody can leave until the alarm is set, and we cannot set the alarm while the bird is there, because the bird would immediately trigger it and then we'd have to stay another 4 hours to confirm that it was not a Soviet Bird.

So in order to go home, everyone's top priority is Get That Bird. And we have a system for it.

Step 1: The test stands tend to be located in rooms with 30+ foot ceilings. We can't catch birds in places like that - so we have to lure the bird into the relatively low ceilinged (8 feet only) upper offices.

We do this by turning all the lights off in the test rooms, then putting floodlights by the exits. I don't know why this works - some kind of evolutionary brain fragment shared by both Bugs and Birds - but work it does. The birds almost always follow after the lights. From there, it’s just two guys moving the floodlight and a third guy to turn off the lights.

Step 2: Everyone else has been waiting for this step. There is this long stairway up from the basement level into the offices, and in the final stage, the floodlights are brought to the base of the stairwell to bring the bird up. At the top of the steps there will be a group of tennish people, waiting for the signal. The light guys will set up the final transfer, everyone will tense, and then, swish...a bird will flit up the stairs and into the offices.

It's like watching werewolves on a full moon. Before the bird cometh, we are engineers. Nerds. Pale and skinny things, trembling under the fluorescent lights. After the bird, we are beasts. Feral, gnawing things, glowing under the orange sunrise of the 70's halogen floodlights.

And like all beasts, we cannot help but give chase.

Step 3: The were-engineers begin the hunt. The goal at the start is not really to catch the bird - just exhaust it. So the pack simply does not relent. Because the stakes are going home on time, the group is basically given free reign to go anywhere in the building. If someone's door is open, and the bird goes inside, they're going to have to deal with ten sweaty panting maniacs leaping around their office. They don't get to say that they're busy, or remark on how all this movement is a terrible distraction. They are allowed to sit in silence during the chaos, and perhaps thank the war party for chasing the bird while they sat comfortably on their ass. This has been explained several times, and it will continue to be explained until cooperation is achieved.

Anyway.

The chase can go on for quite some time. Sometimes, the bird will get tired and find a crevice to hide in, where it can then be reached through standard cornered-bird catching techniques.

Other times, it will slow down enough that someone can actually yoink it out of the air. But this will go on until someone catches the bird and triggers Step 4.

Step 4: The Finale. This is the get-the-bird-out-of-the-building stage, and it requires someone to adopt a specific role: To Become the Sacrificial Vessel of Bird Removal.

This job is both coveted and feared. It's coveted, because holding a wild bird in one's hands is a precious thing. To feel how small, and fragile, and scared it is, only to free it from the building? That is what it's like to be a benevolent God. But the cost! Oh, the cost. The entire time the Vessel is in motion, the bird will be biting the hell out of their fingers. And I cannot emphasize enough just how painful bird bites are. Their entire face is a set of needle posed pliers, and they know tricks the even the cartels haven't figured out yet. So there's always a little hubbub about who shall be The Vessel while onlookers, stranded outside The Office of Bird Capture, can only look on. Quiet arguments and pleas are heard, little fragments of fear and pride and glory trickling out of room like the silver dust left behind in a bag of well shook quarters. The sound of concensus is silence, and the argument will go on until that's all that's left. And then, from the darkness of the final office, the chosen sacrifice will step forward: Hands gently cupped, tears streaming down their face, fingers trembling from the pain of the ongoing bird chomps.

And this scene is what organizes people. Not leadership, not truly. No one can think and coordinate a crowd while their fingers are being attacked with a combination nutcracker/ear piercer. But the crowd sees the suffering of their annointed, and it is driven to do everything poossible to make the process flow. People instinctively flair out, finding the fastest path outside. Doors are held open. Paths are cleared. Someone, somehow, always knows the way forward and can describe it to the sufferer. Left, left, forward. Corner closet. Yep, there's a hall in there. Forward. Two-hundred more feet man, you're doing great. Just hold it together a little longer. You're killing it.

Then the final door swings open, and the bird flees out into what remains of daylight. And yet, even here, the deed is not yet done. I cannot explain it in words, but the crowd that helped is never content until they can see and speak on the Bird Vessel's wounds. They all have to pull the fingers back and see what was given. Estimate the price: One day to get better - No, three - No, a week! Are you blind? Do you see that blood blister? -Yeah, that's not going away anytime soon - Damn, can you believe how feisty those things are? Like wolves without teeth.

(They cannot help but touch as they go. It has always been this way. Even Thomas was not content until he felt the wounds in Christ's hands.)

Only when the last of the helpers has seen, and commented, and commended, will the engineers scatter. It is their return from the underworld that announces to the sun living surface dwellers that they too can go home. (@somerunner tolja it needed to be a post.)

maybe they shouldn’t have wandered into that pizzeria…

Mystery Inc. but it’s the 1890s

Who had late Victorian Scooby Doo on their 2024 bingo card? Hmm?

The idea came to me when I was thinking about Sherlock Holmes and then remembered the iconic mystery solving gang hehe

Mystery Inc. meet Holmes and Watson!

I am having a lot of fun with this Victorian Scooby Doo au!!

What a fantastic weekend in Binghamton, NY celebrating SerlingFest 2024! It was great to see so many folks come from all over to honor Rod in his hometown.

I also got to visit the band stand and ride the carousel that inspired the 1959 Twilight Zone episode “Walking Distance”. The weekend closed with the unveiling of a gorgeous statue that sits in Recreation Park.

He's just a lil guy!!! Just a little guy!!! Surely no horrors will follow him?? Surely!!

god I am always thinking about how moist von lipwig fundamentally does not think himself as a real person. he's not a real person, and so none of his actions have consequences. until he is forced to be a real person and deal with the consequences of his actions (adorabelle) like. it's even in the name. lipwig is a fake mustache. he's not real he's just a character. he's always playing a character. what do you mean his actions have real consequences. he's not real. until he is.

Ankh-Morpork Dashboard Simulator

happy 40th anniversary everyone 🥳🥳

🌅peach-bi-street

who’s that watchman who’s kinda skrunkly

🐀↺riverrat Follow

helen. 

HELEN. ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT NOBBY NOBBS.

🌅↺peach-bi-street

oh yeah

#are you gonna look at me and tell me that im WRONG?

24 notes

🪙official-c.m.o.t.☑️☑️Sponsored with Blaze

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590 notes

🚹humantwitter Follow

4,981 notes

💌postal-service-top Follow

saw the postmaster today in his stupid gold suit. hes so hot

🌚↺lesbianbaker

i don’t get why people say this he’s the most average looking guy ever. his WIFE however

#you know that post that’s like ur at a lesbian bar and a hot older woman is smoking #and ur like. ‘can yuo put that out on me’ #yeah

120 notes

🥁evenmoremendeddrum Follow

do you guys think the patrician has a secret blog

🛤️↺makeyefret Follow

No, but I bet his secretary is on studyblr

🐶↺wufflesgirl Follow

are you kidding me the patrician is definitely on tumblr. brb committing treason so i can compliment his shoelaces

🥁↺evenmoremendeddrum Follow

peer-reviewed tags

#lord vetinari if ur reading this is legally a joke #wear an owl pin if ur one of us

🏚️↺ankhmorporkheritageposts Follow

Ankh-Morpork Heritage Post

1,074,228 notes

trainhoe-deactivated19890205

hot take but i kind of think the guild of assassins and thieves are problematic. like one of them you could ruin someone’s life and the other one you’re literally KILLING people. i know rich people are delusional but i can’t believe they literally think the best school for their kids is murder college.

🐲essential-dragons Follow

assassins got them

20,391 notes

The wizards said the orangutan would be able to lead them back to the dungeon in a couple days.

What a sentence, Chilchuck thought. It seemed to him that he’d been saying a lot of things with full sincerity that weeks ago would’ve been total gibbering nonsense.

The others had wandered off into the city like tourists. Laios was spending the day in some kind of pet shelter for dragons. Senshi had mentioned bringing Izutsumi to check out the local dwarven cooking. Rats were apparently involved, to his total lack of surprise.

He had decided to hole up in the nearest bar that would accept a fistful of foreign coins. He was at the stage of buzz that felt as though someone was wrapping a woollen blanket around his head, and it was loosening his tongue.

“And he’s a good kid,” he was saying. “He’s a good kid, he’s even a good fighter, but he’s got all the social skills of a dead donkey. This is a guy who hears that he has to eat part of his sister, and the first thing he says is-”

THE EGG IS PLACED ON TOP OF THE BACON?

He paused mid-ramble and blinked stickily at the stranger seated next to him. “Sorry?”

WHAT STRUCTURAL SUPPORT DOES THE BACON OFFER THE EGG?

He blinked again. “It’s for,” he tried. “You know. So you can eat the egg and bacon at the same time.”

INSTEAD OF CONSUMING THE ELEMENTS OF THE BREAKFAST SEPARATELY.

“Right.”

BUT IN THIS EXERCISE, YOU WISH TO REMOVE THE EGG FROM THE BACON.

“Right — right! The idea is if we take away the half of Falin that’s a dragon, we can resurrect the human half of her.”

THUS UNFRYING THE EGG.

He screwed an eye shut and tried to make out the face of the stranger through the three images swirling in the hot, lightheaded haze. It looked like a very skinny face.

“I’m starting to lose the food metaphor,” he mumbled. “My point is, the further we go to fix this problem, the worse it gets. And it’s not that i have a problem with resurrection — have you ever been resurrected?”

NO, BUT I HAVE BEEN WITNESS TO PART OF IT.

“Some people are weird about it. Senshi’s weird about it too, but he’s the one who suggested it. Anyways, it’s not that I have a problem with resurrection, I just don’t like the idea of eating an old coworker.”

Another sentence that would have been nonsense barely a week ago. He tried to shrug and missed. “I guess they say, ‘Eat to live, don’t live to eat.’”

A STRANGE THING TO SAY. A PARADOX OF SOME KIND, I’M SURE.

He was beginning to feel a slight headache. “No, it means, like — treat food as a fuel, a necessity, don’t get fussy about the experience of eating it.”

THEY ARE NOT MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE. The stranger plucked a paper umbrella out of their drink. They twirled it thoughtfully between very skinny fingers. I WOULD RECOMMEND A CURRY, they said. I’VE ALWAYS BEEN FOND OF A CURRY.

Guards! Guards! was not the first Discworld book I read but it is the one that punched my angsty, edgy thirteen-year-old self in the face. I have never had a book hit me like that since. Nothing has ever picked me up by the scruff of the neck and shown me my own face in the mirror that way.

I was angsting around, all "the world is terrible" and "people are evil" and "humans are a blight upon the earth" and "everyone is stupid" and Vimes showed up and said, "Yeah, and?"

So what? So they're stupid and petty - save them anyway. So they're selfish - save them anyway. So it's all fucked and there's never going to be a happy ending - save them anyway. Do it anyway. You don't get to opt out of caring just because they're grubby and ignorant and reactionary and petty because so are you and that's all we've got.

No other book has ever changed my worldview in one blow before or since. I reckon that's something that can only happen to you when you're a teenager anyway. But I've never quite gotten over it.

Terry Pratchett really knew how to make het ships, huh?

refs under cut

Vimes and Sybila: The bride and the ugly ass groom

Magrat and Verence: I trased this back to the future fanart (that is why it is so much better then rest lol) based on this meme ofc

Carrot and Angua: The source is this famous little mermaid comic but I was inspired by this dungeon meshi fanart

Adora and Moist: This ship dynamic post

i can't help seeing the concept of "coming back wrong" as reflective of the aftermath of attempted (and unsuccessful) suicide. whether you gratefully accepted death at the end, or you struggled in terror in your final moments and wished you could somehow twist out of the way of your oncoming fate, the choice to die was taken from you. you failed to achieve the inevitable. how wrong must you be, to be unable to even die properly? how horrifying - and how utterly infuriating - would it be, to have everyone around you expressing gratitude or disgust at your resurrection, while you cannot even begin to articulate the depths of your own conviction that death, the inexorable maw itself, must have decided there was something just not right about you, and spat you out?

If you weren't aware, the MTG Circlejerk subreddit has been making fake Far Side Secret Lairs and it's probably one of my favorite things lately.

Things I've spontaneously said to animals. Do you do this too? Mailing list: https://buttondown.email/rosemarymosco Patreon: www.patreon.com/birdandmoon

You can’t tell me this didn’t happen.

giovanni

there are many benefits to being a ground-type pokemon trainer

I see this going around twitter so rolling with difficulty obviously needs one. Where will you sit. (Yes I did make #8 my dream seat - I have dibs deal with it)

Qibli not moping

I made this to help motivate me to study :DDD I hope he can help you too :DDD

Did you guys know that the most recent version of sharks have fins that are kinda leg like and they like to walk up onto land?

name him. name your son