blake kathryn
One Nice Bug Per Day
YOU ARE THE REASON
wallacepolsom
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
we're not kids anymore.
Three Goblin Art
occasionally subtle
Sade Olutola
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Andulka
Xuebing Du
i don't do bad sauce passes
tannertan36
No title available
AnasAbdin
@theartofmadeline
Love Begins
Janaina Medeiros
Mike Driver
seen from Japan
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Cambodia
seen from Serbia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from Türkiye
seen from Ukraine
seen from Singapore
seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
@sam-a-menace
Okay I know we all love "Rocky swears non-stop all the time" but have any of us considered that after four years of being shipmates with Grace and probably Grace somehow implementing a swear jar Rocky now only shouts grade school teacher level non-curses when pissed off.
Like he's working on a project with other Eridians and accidentally breaks something and shouts HORSEFEATHERS and now all of the other Eridians are losing their shit
What if a living weapon whumpee remained a weapon but in a reclamatory way. You made me into this, but now I will use it to fight against you. You made me into this, but now I will use it to protect those who are better to me than you were. You made me into this, but I decide what happens with it from here.
Bear religion probably fucking rocks. You're a fucking bear, you're the deadliest thing on earth, once a year an endless supply of salmon just flings itself up the river to gorge on and then you nap for 3 months.
The most delicious food in the world is protected by tiny demons who can defend it from everyone except you. Your natural armor is thick enough that you can just eat the damn hive while they buzz around you. God's chosen animals right there
Regular bears tell stories of angel bears sent by the Bear God, pure white and twice as strong as any normal bear could be, who rule the summit of the Earth and kill all who stand in their path.
And they are right, those bears exist and totally do that. Humans just have fake angels as a cope.
love the idea of bears being the chosen species actually. having a near death experience and glimpsing heaven and realising it's just full of bears, no humans at all, humans not ensouled actually, humans an accidental byproduct of God's plan for bears
Everyone is fighting a tough battle so reblog to give previous a sword 🗡️
Description: [A video of a woman riding a galloping horse bareback while holding a large rainbow flag.]
i felt like these tags really added to the experience, thanks @cynderxdustypaws for your knowledge
This is one of the most powerful images I have ever seen, and I will reblog it every single time because every single time it brings tears to my eyes.
I can be the ship and its sailors
I finally had five minutes to sit down and work on Prox today. I got pretty far, at least!
Experience the full length IMMERSION demonstration by STARSET - filmed in 2024.Once the demonstration concludes, be sure to stay tuned to th
I was at this demonstration, and it was the most amazing and innovative display I'd ever seen. If you get a chance to see Starset live, the hometown Columbus show isn't to be missed.
even more phm + textposts with stratt (and grace)
I think it would be funny to write a murder mystery where not only did every single character involved have an obvious motive to kill this mf, they were actually all attempting to murder him first, but the murder attempts all cancelled each other out all except for one. Two people tried to poison him but the poisons just happen to work as antidotes for each other, and instead of killing him only gave him the shits, and due to having the shits he couldn't go hunting that day like he had planned, foiling the plans of the one who had conditioned his favourite hunting horse to panic and bolt at the cue of a whistle, and the other murder attempt of tampering with his gun so that it would have exploded his whole face off.
The whole mystery isn't about who could have done it or how, but who was the one who got lucky and actually succeeded.
Sherlock Holmes and The Case of Perhaps We'd Best Leave This One Alone, Watson. There Appears To Be An Excess Of Armed Maniacs In The Vicinity.
When I was in high school a friend of mine would host murder mystery dinners once or twice a year. They were the kind you could buy as a kit -- I don't even know if they exist anymore -- and everyone was assigned (or chose) a character, then received a booklet of clues to share. The idea was to spend an evening in a one-shot LARP designed like an Agatha Christie novel.
I was a year above most of them at school so they threw a "goodbye" murder mystery for me just before graduation, and about 2/3 of the way through the game we all realized that everyone had at least attempted to kill the victim. The game then shifted from "whodunnit" to "who succeeded in dunninit" which we all felt was not only super fun but above the usual level of narrative complexity for those games.
After we solved it, we discovered that the game wasn't from a kit -- the host had written it herself and meticulously printed out the booklets in replica style of the kits. It was the best going-away party I think I could possibly have had.
you know what? fuck it, man. the world is held in the fists of people who like to break things. at this point i’m saying who gives a shit. wear that victorian dress you don’t have an excuse for. dress up like a witch, pointed hat and all. who cares anymore. why worry about it when there’s bigger stuff to worry on. i’m saying. yeah, this lipstick is too dark, wanna share? i’m saying go talk to her, tell her that you like her hair. i’m saying she’s out of my league but i’m still swinging, i’m saying yeah i’m in a ballgown and it’s a pta meeting. what about it. eat the extra brownie, tell her your feelings. i’m saying if nothing matters than we might as well give nothing meaning.
#i’m saying if existence is a void at least i’m going down screaming.
it’s been 9 years since i wrote this. i was experiencing 24/7 anxiety so badly that i needed serious medication. these days in the back of my car is an “emergency party box.” when people admit they no longer really celebrate their birthday; i tell them to put the sash on and queue up kesha, we’re going bowling or something. these days i can’t spin around without finding something i am enamored with. these days i list 3 things i’m grateful for before i fall asleep. you’re probably one of them, just by virtue of you existing.
at the time i wrote this, i was suffering through a severe panic attack literally every night. i tortured my brother with constant 2 AM calls just to hear someone else breathing, because i couldn’t be alone in the silence.
i rarely wish i was still 23 even though ironically i had more hope back then. what i can tell you is this: i love the same way, but bigger now. i’ve worn the velvet cape to several business meetings. i spent thursday in a crop top without caring what my stomach looked like.
i told her i like her; i often dress as a witch. i still got glass in my foot this morning. i’ve kissed maybe a thousand people since then and met a million more than that; passing like the shadow of a hammerhead in trains and planes and buses.
i saw you, beloved, there, maybe, on platform in south station. you didn’t speak, but you said: i struggle to give the nothing meaning. the nothing fills up everything. it is just loud and yellowed panicked silence. i can’t stop shaking.
on the roof, birds curl together against the chilled spring wind. the sky outside of the craft store was an iridescent pink. the nothing already had meaning; you are giving it meaning by witnessing.
the act of living, beloved: it’s just decoding how to translate it.
and out of the darkness - you you you you you
Can I have this tattooed on my brain please
URGH. Emmerich Holyblade and I just went to The Ceremony to receive our RPG Job Titles, and he OBVIOUSLY got Chosen Hero Sword Saint. So now he's gonna set out to kill the Demon Lord of Darkness.
Me? I just got Dark Mage. Honestly, it's pretty rare, but the job opportunities are also limited. You either get into covert assassination or dungeon raiding.
God, just because we're the only two kids in The Village, Emmerich Holyblade automatically assumes this makes us friends. He doesn't even realize I hate him and his stupid smug swordsman ass.
URGGHHHH he just asked me to join his Grand Hero's Party. fuck. I can't just say no if the Grand Holy King himself is gonna payroll us to do this shit. Whatever man. Let's rock till the Demon Lord of Darkness is dead, and then I can retire and never see Emmerich Holyblade again.
Help me. I've been trying to quit the Grand Hero's Party but Emmerich keeps introducing me as his childhood friend to all the new fucking party members. I hate them all.
The tank Ferron Shieldson gives me bro fists hard enough to bruise. Sister Savantha Healier has tripped over her habit ten times in the past hour.
Elfdame Woodsworth the beautiful elf archer huntress keeps dragging deer carcasses to camp. I'm so tired of venison.
I've been trying to have the Grand Hero's Party kick me out, but instead of undervaluing my Super Secret Invisible Debuff Technique (which looks like I'm just standing there) Emmerich Holyblade figured out it stacks with his Five Phoenix Absolution to hit the damage cap.
Outside of combat, I've done a lot of very invisible low-tier work nobody really needs, such as managing all of our finances and inventory, yet they keep fucking including me and praising my efforts when they're having a drink at the tavern.
Emmerich Holyblade spilled some beer on my shadowy cloak when he slung an arm around my shoulder. His breath stinks.
I'm so tired of camping, honestly. Random Farmers and Shit keep inviting us to stay with them for the night, but their beds suck and I hate the food.
Our reputation really soared when we stopped one of the Four Demonic Kings of the East North South and West from destroying Capital City of the Holy Church Kingdom Nation.
Emmerich Holyblade insists my 70% Paralysis Debuff clutched the entire encounter despite dealing the Super Cool Omega Finisher, so everyone's asking me for autographs.
Shouldn't he know I hate social interaction if he claims to be my "childhood friend"?? LEAVE ME ALONE.
At least Princess Dowed Verily only has eyes for Emmerich Holyblade and his stupidly sculpted biceps. Weird he insists on ignoring her advances, though. Dude, you could be King. What the hell.
Emmerich Holyblade truly is the worst. Princess Dowed Verily tried to have me exiled before the whole court, saying I'm just a leech on the Grand Hero's Party besmirching my "childhood friend"'s good name and status, but Emmerich Holyblade fucking defended me!!!
He said I'm invaluable to this party both as part of our battle plans, our day-to-day tasks, and as his "dearest companion". GROSS!!!
Doesn't he realize this was the PERFECT chance for me to disappear to another country???
Why did I think this Demon Lord of Darkness-slaying shit was a good idea in the first place?? Surely Emmerich Holyblade's boundless enthusiasm to be a do-gooder can't be an infectious disease??
Another day, another trial. We journeyed to the Yggdrasil Holy Nature Origin Forest because it's said the Elves of the Yggrasil Holy Nature Origin Worldtree have the sacred sword Swordexcaliburn, the only weapon capable of permanently killing the Demon Lord of Darkness for good.
Except Elfsdame Woodsworth might be the Holy Nature Origin Princess, or something. I wasn't really paying attention to her dramatic backstory.
After we killed the Holy Nature Origin King (who was really one of the Four Demonic Kings of the East North South and West in disguise), Elfsdame Woodsworth the beautiful elf archer huntress just kinda gave us the sword.
It's sunset right now, and I climbed a tree to just overlook the forest in peace, ALONE, except Emmerich Holyblade "knew I'd do something like this", so now he's HERE. HE ALWAYS DOES THIS!!!!
Blergh. Now we're watching the sun set over the whole Holy Kingdom Church Nation. It's pretty, but that dumbass Emmerich Holyblade isn't even looking at it. Idiot.
At least he's being quiet.
By the way, we beat up the other two Four Demonic Kings of the East North South and West, because we don't really have the time to show all this onscreen, you know? Nobody really cares about them anyways.
We've reached the Demon Lord of Darkness's Dark Demonic Castle Keep now, and we're striking tomorrow.
It's my last chance to quit if I don't want to beef it tomorrow (I do not trust Ferron Shieldson to shield me), but Emmerich Holyblade said he can't do it without me. HE, singular?? So everybody else can do it without me??
And to make matters worse, he said he'd tell me something after we beat the Demon Lord of Darkness. Why the hell tell me you're gonna tell me something??? Just tell me in the first place so I can ditch.
And besides, as if anyone could actually kill the goddamn Chosen Hero Sword Saint. At the very least, he's gonna survive tomorrow. Doesn't he realize how stupidly contrived his powerset is?? Dude, as IF.
I told him that, and he ran off. I'm never going to understand him.
One more day, and I'm leaving forever. Grand Holy King better pay up good, or I'm covert assassinating his ass.
Inside the Dark Demon Castle Keep, we had to fight through so many waves of enemies, like Sister Savantha Healier's Evil Twin, who worships the Demon Lord of Darkness instead of the Goddess of Good Stuff.
But mainly I was just standing in the back. Debuffing is a crazy magic drain, so I did get super tired, but the most exciting thing I was involved with was when Sister Savantha Healier's Evil Twin threw her weapon at me in a last ditch attempt to take at least one of us down, but Emmerich Holyblade intercepted it. With his body.
Sister Savantha Healier just healed him after, though, so it's fine. I might've been mincemeat had that hit my squishy self. I'm a proud backliner, okay. But it was still pretty stupid and unnecessary, considering we have Phoenix Blessing Revival Potion Stones.
Demon Lord of Darkness up ahead... Just one more boss and we're doooooone.
Anyways, the Demon Lord of Darkness wasn't even that cool. The orchestra was great though. I gotta see if the piano player survived the Dark Demon Castle Keep's collapse.
Everybody weakened the Demon Lord of Darkness with their own strikes, so Emmerich Holyblade could finish him off properly with the holy sword Swordexcaliburn.
Before he did, he looked at me with these fucking... star-filled eyes and bright smile, which made everybody else also look at me, which made the Demon Lord of Darkness laugh, so I just nodded at Emmerich Holyblade to go kill the fucking Demon Lord of Darkness already.
God, that took so long. I'm taking a vacation. I'm disappearing into a forest without any elves in it and never talking to another person ever again.
At least now I get to know whatever Emmerich Holyblade wants to tell me. It better be good, because it's the last thing he'll ever tell me.
He, uh. He. Well he. Uh. Hm. Well. How do I put this. Well. Hm. Uhhhhhhhhhh.
E-Emmerich Holyblade, well, he.
Much to. To think about. yeah.
I said yes.
JUNE. JUNE WHEN I GET YOU!!!! aurgh i love these. thank you so much. how did you know i kept imagining emmerich as blonde. AND THE PIANO PLAYER IN THE BACK RHRGH
there’s something endlessly hilarious to me about the phrase “hotly debated” in an academic context. like i just picture a bunch of nerds at podiums & one’s like “of course there was a paleolithic bear cult in Northern Eurasia” and another one just looks him in the eye and says “i’l kill you in real life, kevin”
I heard a story once about two microbiologists at a conference who took it out into the parking lot to have a literal fistfight over taxonomy.
have i told this story yet? idk but it’s good. The Orangutan Story:
my american lit professor went to this poe conference. like to be clear this is a man who has a doctorate in being a book nerd. he reads moby dick to his four-year-old son. and poe is one of the cornerstones of american literature, right, so this should be right up his alley?
wrong. apparently poe scholars are like, advanced. there is a branch of edgar allen poe scholarship that specifically looks for coded messages based on the number of words per line and letters per word poe uses. my professor, who has a phd in american literature, realizes he is totally out of his depth. but he already committed his day to this so he thinks fuck it! and goes to a panel on racism in poe’s works, because that’s relevant to his interests.
background info: edgar allen poe was a broke white alcoholic from virginia who wrote horror in the first half of the 19th century. rule 1 of Horror Academia is that horror reflects the cultural anxieties of its time (see: my other professor’s sermon abt how zombie stories are popular when people are scared of immigrants, or that purge movie that was literally abt the election). since poe’s shit is a product of 1800s white southern culture, you can safely assume it’s at least a little about race. but the racial subtext is very open to interpretation, and scholars believe all kinds of different things about what poe says about race (if he says anything), and the poe stans get extremely tense about it.
so my professor sits down to watch this panel and within like five minutes a bunch of crusty academics get super heated about poe’s theoretical racism. because it’s academia, though, this is limited to poorly concealed passive aggression and forceful tones of inside voice. one professor is like “this isn’t even about race!” and another professor is like “this proves he’s a racist!” people are interrupting each other. tensions are rising. a panelist starts saying that poe is like writing a critique of how racist society was, and the racist stuff is there to prove that racism is stupid, and that on a metaphorical level the racist philosophy always loses—
then my professor, perhaps in a bid to prove that he too is a smart literature person, loudly calls: “BUT WHAT ABOUT THE ORANGUTAN?”
some more background: in poe’s well-known short story “the murder in the rue morgue,” two single ladies—a lovely old woman and her lovely daughter who takes care of her, aka super vulnerable and respectable people—are violently killed. the murderer turns out to be not a person, but an orangutan brought back by a sailor who went to like burma or something. and it’s pretty goddamn racially coded, like they reeeeally focus on all this stuff about coarse hairs and big hands and superhuman strength and chattering that sounds like people talking but isn’t actually. if that’s intentional, then he’s literally written an analogy about how black people are a threat to vulnerable white women, which is classic white supremacist shit. BUT if he really only meant for it to be an orangutan, then it’s a whole other metaphor about how colonialism pillages other countries and brings their wealth back to europe and that’s REALLY gonna bite them in the ass one day. klansman or komrade? it all hangs on this.
much later, when my professor told this story to a poe nerd friend, the guy said the orangutan thing was a one of the biggest landmines in their field. he said it was a reliable discussion ruiner that had started so many shouting matches that some conferences had an actual ban on bringing it up.
so the place goes dead fucking silent as every giant ass poe stan in the room is immediately thrust into a series of war flashbacks: the orangutan argument, violently carried out over seminar tables, in literary journals, at graduate student house parties, the spittle flying, the wine and coffee spilled, the friendships torn—the red faces and bulging veins—curses thrown and teaching posts abandoned—panels just like this one fallen into chaos—distant sirens, skies falling, the dog-eared norton critical editions slicing through the air like sabres—the textual support! o, the quotes! they gaze at this madman in numb disbelief, but he could not have known. nay, he was a literary theorist, a 17th-century man, only a visitor to their haunted land. he had never heard the whistle of the mortars overhead. he had never felt the cold earth under his cheek as he prayed for god’s deliverance. and yet he would have broken their fragile peace and brought them all back into the trenches.
my professor sits there for a second, still totally clueless. the panel moderator suddenly stands up in his tweed jacket and yells, with the raw panic of a once-broken man:
WE! DO NOT! TALK ABOUT! THE ORANGUTAN!
forever reblog
I've fallen back into The Murderbot Diaries. Ahh, SecUnit, you're so relatable. Kevin R. Free does a fantastic job narrating the audiobooks.
The crazy thing is, ninety-nine times out of a hundred, if you asked me on any given day "Would like to see a picture of some genitals?" my answer would be "😰 No, that's... No, thank you. I'm okay, actually." I have nothing but the utmost respect for people who do engage with the penis side of the internet, but personally, I've spent the better part of two decades doing all I can NOT to have pictures of dick and balls or sexy bikini babe buttcheeks blasted onto my retinas constantly. And yet... to be denied the penis? To have a jumped up pile of javascript tell me, a grown adult with an air fryer and an outstanding council tax bill, that I cannot be trusted to withstand the sight of a bare nipple unless I let it scan my drivers' license? I will move heaven and earth to see that fucking nipple, friend. I will walk a thousand miles barefoot on hot coals before I give you big brother bitches my passport number. A thousand miles through the desert with five VPNs just to press my face up against the glass and see the last uncensored picture of two My Little Pony Characters sixty-nining each other, and I don't even want! to look at it! But I will! I must! for the sake of our fucking democracy!
that’s just my nightstand knife don’t worry
who sleeps with a machete is a fool every night but one
