LAE

Aesthetic blog

[mmilkovxch]

Captive Prince | Damen & Laurent

"A kingdom, or this."

[writingdose]

this and also the only difference between fanfic writers and writers who sell their own original works as careers is that fanfics aren’t monetized. that’s all.

being a “professional” writer doesn’t mean your works are inherently better than fanfics. I’ve read so many fics that are more professionally written than some published books.

whether or not a piece of writing is monetized has nothing to do with its quality.

[catchymemes]

[tuckedinbugw]

Nothing like holding my love

[mmilkovxch]

Heated Rivalry | Shane & Ilya

“Do you want the problem to go away?”

“No,” Ilya said seriously, looking Shane dead in the eye. “I do not want the problem to ever go away.”

[mmilkovxch]

Jinx | Arcane

"It's Jinx now"

Vi

[mmilkovxch]

The Sunshine Court  | Jean Moreau

"A cool evening breeze. Rainbows. Open roads. Friends"

[greylittlebird-deactivated20250]

I don’t understand why people who cannot accept any moral grayness or complexity decide to join fandoms for the most emotionally complex stories and then try to shame everyone there who actually is able to understand the material.

[mmilkovxch]

Red, White & Royal Blue

"History, huh ? Bet we could make some."

[visenyaism]

one fun thing about being a teacher in march 2023 is that chess is a literal epidemic among teens. we are starting to have meetings about how we can STOP teenagers from playing too much chess which is like if we were trying to figure out how to stop them from reading for fun. When i was in high school five years ago chess was nerd shit only but now it is transcending every social and language barrier and is absolutely rampant. kids aren’t on their phone texting in class anymore it’s ONLY chess.com. kids are playing chess on their phones while playing chess in real life. this is still better than tiktok because at least the kids are developing an attention span from this

[visenyaism]

the worst part of this is that they’re on chess dot com instead of getting an education. but the BEST part of this is watching high schoolers develop the weirdest goddamn strategies I’ve ever seen. One of my students invented something he calls the “evil advisor gambit” where he gets a third person to give out constant terrible advice to both teams hoping that his opponent falls for it straight-up or that his opponent thinks HE fell for it and will act accordingly thus worsening their own strategy. he has won every game he has been able to pull off a coordinated evil advisor gambit in. this is chess innovation never before seen in its 700 years on earth

[mmilkovxch]

#I wish I was still at school

[mmilkovxch]

Mile High | Zanders & Stevie

“You don’t have to love your body every single day. That’s unrealistic to expect, but I’ll be here loving it for the days you can’t.”

Mile High  |  The Right Move

[mmilkovxch]

The Right Move | Ryan & Indy

“Sometimes the quietest love is the loudest.”

Mile High  |  The Right Move

[fennecshandgf]

sometimes i think about the golden record and i want to cry

[fennecshandgf]

there is a disk. it is 12 inches in diameter, it is made of copper, plated with gold. there is an inscription— “To the makers of music – all worlds, all times” on its surface. it lies on the space probe, Voyager 1, launched in 1977, to explore interstellar space beyond our solar system.

it contains human existence.

116 images— the sun, the location of our solar system, mathematical and physical unit definitions, and our planets, including a blue and swirling white sphere simply labelled “Home.” it contains images of human dna, of our atoms, their structure, the way they divide, our anatomy, our conception, our birth.

it does not contain an image of war. nor of disease, nor poverty, nor crime, religion, or ideology.

it does contain a father looking lovingly at his daughter. it does contain the picture of a tree toad in a gentle hand, of a woman eating a grape at a supermarket.

the remainder of the disk is audio. a 90-minute selection of music from all over the world, sounds, and greetings. there are greetings in 55 different languages, one akkadian, spoken in sumer about six thousand years ago, and one wu, a modern chinese dialect. the greetings call out to a friend. it wishes them well. it asks them if they have eaten yet.

but it contains other sounds too. it holds the sound of rain, of thunder, of a volcano and an earthquake. it holds the sound of mud pots and trains. it holds the sound of a mother kissing her child.

with little to erode it in space, the golden record would probably outlast all human creation. it will be 40,000 years before it approaches another planetary system. if it does, it cannot find intelligent life. intelligent life will have to find it, retrieve it from where it floats silent and small through space. we still don’t know if they would understand it.

in 7.5 billion years, the evolution of the sun would burn the earth up, and we would not exist any longer, but the voyager would fly on, bearing a memory.

bearing a disk with a little inscription etched by hand on its surface.

[st-jimmysidiot]

[galkyrie]

Radiolab did an episode with Ann Druyan, the creative director of the Voyager Interstellar Message project that produced these discs and selected what to put on them. She tells the story of their conception and the selection process.

One of the sounds on the record is the sound of Ann Druyan’s brainwaves, recorded as she thought about the man she fell in love with over the course of the project, which if discovered and interpreted by some far-flung species hundreds of millions of years from now, will make her and Carl Sagan’s love story humanity’s most enduring.

[jewelliffer]

Human beings looked at the stars and said hm. I hope we aren’t alone. Let’s say hi and introduce ourselves 💙

[violetsandshrikes]

washington zoo has had it's first armadillo (southern three-banded) birth in 116 years and the baby is so so so so so precious i could cry

congratulations to new armadillo parents Vespa and Scooter!!! (x)(x)

[madmaudlingoes]

They named the baby Segway.

[i-like-to-look-at-your-back]

The spirit of evil

[i-like-to-look-at-your-back]

[ampervadasz]

Unmute !

[takiki16]

[writing-prompt-s]

Two identical infants lay in the cradle. “One you bore, the other is a Changeling. Choose wisely,” the Fae’s voice echoed from the shadows. “I’m taking both my children,” the mother said defiantly.

[dycefic]

Once upon a time there was a peasant woman who was unhappy because she had no children. She was happy in all other things – her husband was kind and loving, and they owned their farm and had food and money enough. But she longed for children.

She went to church and prayed for a child every Sunday, but no child came. She went to every midwife and wise woman for miles around, and followed all their advice, but no child came.

So at last, though she knew of the dangers, she drew her brown woolen shawl over her head and on Midsummer’s Eve she went out to the forest, to a certain clearing, and dropped a copper penny and a lock of her hair into the old well there, and she wished for a child.

“You know,” a voice said behind her, a low and cunning voice, a voice that had a coax and a wheedle and a sly laugh all mixed up in it together, “that there will be a price to pay later.”

She did not turn to look at the creature. She knew better. “I know it,” she said, still staring into the well. “And I also know that I may set conditions.”

“That is true,” the creature said, after a moment, and there was less laugh in its voice now. It wasn’t pleased that she knew that. “What condition do you set? A boy child? A lucky one?”

“That the child will come to no harm,” she said, lifting her head to stare into the woods. “Whether I succeed in paying your price, or passing your test, or not, the child will not suffer. It will not die, or be hurt, or cursed with ill luck or any other thing. No harm of any kind.”

“Ahhhhh.” The sound was long and low, between a sigh and a hum. “Yes. That is a fair condition. Whatever price there is, whatever test there is, it will be for you and you alone.” A long, slender hand extended into her sight, almost human save for the skin, as pale a green as a new leaf. The hand held a pear, ripe and sweet, though the pears were nowhere ripe yet. “Eat this,” the voice said, and she trembled with the effort of keeping her eyes straight ahead. “All of it, on your way home. Before you enter your own gate, plant the core of it beside the gate, where the ground is soft and rich. You will have what you ask for.”

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