One time, before patrol, the cave receives a video from Colin. How he managed to send them a video, they don’t know. The whole family is there except for Damian.
The video starts with Colin adjusting the focus. Maya, Maps, Suren, and Kathy are next to him on a beach.
High above them, at the top of a huge ramp, is Jon and Damian in a shopping cart. In uniform. With a rocket strapped to the bottom of the cart.
Jon leans over the back, lights the rocket, and pushes them into motion as Damian brandishes his sword & screams “FOR HONOR!”
Halfway down the ramp they start screaming. There’s sparks, the wheels fall off, there’s more sparks, and they rocket at a near 90 degree angle up at least 100 feet.
The cart explodes in a giant multicolor firework and the shaky camera zooms in on two dots that fall into the ocean.
There’s a couple seconds of dead quiet & everyone whispering worriedly to each other.
A moment later, two figures pop out of the water with their arms up in victory, the camera barely picks up distant yelling, and the video cuts off right as the camera starts to shake with Colin & co running towards the shore while cheering.
The bats have no idea how to react. Damian was supposed to be working with Jon on a school project. They don’t recognize half of those kids. Where did they get the ramp, rocket, and cart. What the hell.
When Damian comes home the next day, Bruce confronts him in front of the fam, asking how the project went. Damian tells them it went well and shares some details on the project without missing a beat or letting on that it’s a bold faced lie.
Now, Bruce and the others have to wonder: what else does he get up to that they aren’t even aware about?
My favourite math fact is that 0.9999999.. is equal to 1. Exactly. Not approximately. Not as a rounded number. 0.9999 (recurring) is exactly 1.
Question. How the fuck does that work?
I tried explaining it here:
Here’s another perspective on why .999… repeating is exactly equal to 1.
For any two distinct real numbers, we can always find a rational number strictly between them, i.e. that rational number must be able to be expressed as a terminating decimal or a repeating decimal. To be clear, that rational number is strictly between the two values; it is not allowed to be equal to either.
Suppose k is a rational number strictly between 1 and 0.9999…. If this is possible, then, I can write k exactly as either a decimal with finite digits, or I can write k as a repeating decimal. The problem is, there are no decimals with finite digits between 1 and 0.999… , and there is no way to write a repeating decimal that is greater than 0.999… and still less than 1. Either way, a k strictly between 1 and 0.999… does not exist. The only way this can be true is if those two numbers are not actually distinct. That is to say, 1 = 0.999…..
i truly appreciate how math seems like it’s this infallible always-true only-one-answer thing, when in reality math is just like:
it feels like I spent a million years on the details… all because he’s just too cute in this event, with the elephant thing in his third flair I just couldn’t resist^^’
Smallville had this in its early years to the point of being female Fanservice. Ads for the premiere showed Clark tied to a cross with his shirt ripped off and a big “S” painted on his chest in what seemed to be blood
The boys of Stargate SG-1 invoke this trope fairly often. Daniel winds up kidnapped disproportionately often in the first season or two. He’s also the Woobie, so…
James T. Kirk not only gets manacled but stripped to the waist and rubbed down with oil. Several times. Fanservice, anyone?
612 words. Season 7, can be read as an ‘all things’ behind/between the scenes. Read on Ao3. Tagging @today-in-fic
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She’s got part of her torso and one leg draped over him, the heat coming off her a sharp contrast to the bursts of breeze that float through the open window and dry the sweat that still clings damply to his skin.
Mulder traces the knots and whorls in the wood board that hovers above the both of them with his eyes, still trying to process the last hour or so. His thoughts bounce between whoa,holy shit,and I really should have kept the mirrored ceiling on this bed for a bit longer(it had been way too weird seeing his own face the instant he opened his eyes every morning).
“Was it everything you imagined?” The words are dulled by cotton, half her face sunk into one fluffy pillow. Two fingers skate over her spine, down between her shoulders until he can’t reach any further, the swell of vertebrae giving him something to focus on, to ground his mind.
“I could never have imagined that.”
Make no mistake, he’d had his fair share of fantasies over the years. He can’t remember when it happened, but she’d taken the starring role in all his fantasies for some time (usually the singular starring role but there had been a handful of times where he decided to branch out a bit). That being said, he’d always known that the Scully that existed in his mind—the one that most often made visits with a backdrop of worn green leather, or over-bleached motel bedsheets—could never compare to the living, breathing entity that was his partner, his best friend, his doctor, the one and only person he could ever see a future with.
“That bad, huh? Thanks for being honest with me.” The delivery is flat, but the half of her lip that he can see is curled up to the sky.
“Fishing for a compliment?” he asks. Her response is a sigh. “Well, if that’s what you want….”
Clearing his throat and using his most serious voice, “Scully, there has never been a time where you haven’t exceeded my expectations, defied my wildest imaginings, left me in shock and awe and stupefaction.”
“Mulderrrrr…” she groans, face fully in the pillow now, one hand pushing at his side.
“I can confirm for you, guarantee, that what we just did? Better than anything I’ve ever done before. Better than anything I’ve imagined. And I imagined a lot.” He captures the hand, brings it up to graze each knuckle with a kiss. “I know you’re really a stickler for hard data and facts, but you’re just gonna have to take my word for it.”
After a beat or two of silence, her face reappears from the pillow. “Are you finished?”
“For the moment. I’ll spend some more time thinking about it and update you with any breakthroughs.”
Her tongue peeks out and he follows the movement with his eyes, watches it run over her lips in an unsuccessful attempt to smother a smile.
“The feeling is mutual.” Her eyes dart up to meet his. “Don’t have a speech prepared, I hope you can forgive me.”
“That’s fine. Left you speechless, I get it.”
“Shut up.”
She pulls her hand out of his grasp and throws the arm over his chest, snuggling into his side. “I’m going to sleep. You should too.”
“Yeah.” His eyes go back to wood grain for a moment then close, and he lets his mind drift, sleep creeping closer.
Long after he thought she had drifted off, her lips touch his shoulder, warm, and she whispers, “I’ll have a full review prepared for next time.”
Yesterday I overheard someone talking about how he was taking classes at the University of Maryland because they offer free tuition if you’re over 60.
My brain IMMEDIATELY began scripting a screwball comedy in which a broke millennial who desperately want to finish his long-abandoned degree but is drowning in student debt pretends to be a senior citizen in order to attend college for free.
I’m picturing someone Channing Tatumesque, applying age makeup every morning before he heads off to class. It’s sort of a cross between 21 Jump Street and Mrs. Doubtfire. He keeps forgetting which hip is supposed to be his bad one. His classmates laugh every time he uses slang. There’s definitely a scene where he attends a college party and busts it up on the dance floor.
He catches the eye of a fellow returning student, a woman in her 50s, but she thinks he’s like 70 and she’s already buried one husband, you know? She’s not interested in doing that again. When his charade unravels (hilariously) at the end of the movie, though, she finds out he’s actually like 30 and has abs you could bounce a quarter off. And he’s still super into her. And really, maybe it’s time she gave May-December romance a chance.
Okay so to refine this concept a little:
Our Hero is stuck in a job where he keep seeing people get promoted past him because they have a 4-year degree and he doesn’t. He can’t afford to go back to school until he finishes paying off his student loans for the degree he’s one semester from completing. If he got the promotion he wants he could pay them off a lot quicker. But he can’t get the promotion without the degree.
Along comes a clerical error in his almost-alma mater’s records which lists his birth year as 1948 instead of 1984. He gets a call from them about their “free tuition for seniors” program. “Wow, that sounds amazing!” he says. “I’ll be sure to tell my, uh, grandpa, as soon as he gets home.”
It’s one semester. If he can keep up the charade, he’ll have the degree, get the promotion, pay off the student loans. Hell, if they figure it out after the fact and come after him for the tuition, he’ll be able to afford it by then. He just needs to pass as a 70-year-old until graduation. How hard could it be?
(also, someone in the notes suggested “Senior Year” for a title, which is PERFECT.)
