until significance is achieved

Truer comics have never been drawn.

when i was a teenager it felt very revolutionary to be cruel to myself. like some kind of slow passive protest against how much everything hurt. i starved myself of sleep and food and tenderness because it felt right. it felt sharp and angry and radical and i wanted to be those things. adulthood is the realisation that the world is already working to cut into you well before you learn how to do it yourself. caring for yourself and others is the real protest

Michelle K, I Know I Deserve More

I think my favorite thing about 3zun is that all three of them are actively trying to make 3zun work, but because they all have completely different worldviews and circumstances, the harder they try the more they push each other away. It's a microcosm of some of the themes of the novel and I love it

To elaborate...

And of course, this all ties in with the framework they have towards life. NMJ thinks life is short so honor is all that matters in the end. JGY thinks life is dangerous so you have to do what it takes to survive. LXC thinks life is complicated so you have to navigate it as carefully as you can. So if any of them tries to confront the others, they have a kneejerk reaction of "No, that's how you end up doing something dishonorable/dying/ruining everybody's lives." Which terrifies them. So conversations quickly become unsustainable, but not talking isn't sustainable either, it just makes things crumble less obviously. There's no easy solution here, because NMJ was raised to die young, JGY was raised to survive at all costs, and LXC was raised to be responsible for every life around him. How do you go about finding common ground for all three of them?

You know what would make a GREAT plot twist? Fidelity.

And yes I mean in the context of romantic relationships, but not only in the context of romantic relationships. Or did AND ROHAN WILL ANSWER mean nothing to you?

not to hijack this post but it reminds me of when my dad’s best friend and his wife had just had their first child, and he had life-threatening complications and went into surgery immediately. as soon as my dad heard he got in the car and drove three hours to be there. he walked into the hospital room, and his best friend wasn’t even surprised. with tears in his eyes he said “I know you. I knew you would come.”

Mongolian armour - Huyag.

Most armour was made of hardened leather and iron, laced together onto a fabric backing, sometimes silk.

“Each Starday I pay visit to the ill at the temple hospital,” Xenk said. “The clerics of Eldath allow me to provide succor where I can.” 

Edgin squinted. “Okay. But what do you do for fun?” 

“Fun?” Xenk echoed. It seemed that he had never conceived of this word before, relating to himself. After a worrisomely long pause, he confessed. “I have been known to read for pleasure.” 

“That’s … something I guess,” Edgin sighed. “Let me guess - courtly poetry? Epics of ancient battles?” 

“This, I recently finished.” Xenk reached into his pack and retrieved a well-thumbed book bound in cheap parchment. Emblazoned over a painting of a half-elf bard, shirt torn to his navel, being bent over by a knight in full armor - The Paladin’s Wicked Oath. 

Edgin raised his eyebrows. “Well … I didn’t expect that.” 

“Despite the title, Ser Gervassius’s intentions are not wicked at all,” Xenk said reassuringly. “Though perilous forces throw them together, Robinet and  Gervassius share a deep and earnest bond. The author - Goodwife Isobelle - does not correctly represent a paladin’s oath, but she has such understanding of men’s souls.” With a lingering sigh, Xenk placed the book in Edgin’s palm and clasped both hands around it. “It is nothing short of stirring. I implore you to read it.” 

“Really, it’s okay,” Edgin mumbled. “I don’t need …” 

“What’re you two still doing out here?” Holga walked up. “Oh hey. It’s Edgin’s book.” 

“It is my book,” Xenk answered, confused as Edgin looked at Holga with a frantic expression, shaking his head.

“Edgin’s book,” Holga emphasized. “The one he wrote. Under that stupid penname.” She took the book from Edgin’s slack hand. “Goodwife Isobelle,” she snorted. “Edgin’s never been a good wife a day in his life.” 

“Well!” Edgin clapped his hands, determinedly not looking at Xenk as his ears burned. “Holga is right. What are we still doing out here? Time to get a move on … !” 

…

Always thinking about the spell Link has on the Zora Royal Family

underrated fantasy thing is when authors want to avoid giving an actual earth year their story takes place so the characters say shit like "back in the Year Of The Skateboarding Dragon" and all the other characters are like ah yes how could we forget the crops were so plentiful the year that dragon did those sweet sweet kickflips

Joseph's brothers would have sold him to One Direction

And it came to pass, when Joseph was come unto his brethren, that they stript Joseph out of his coat, his coat of many colours that was on him;

And they took him, and cast him into a pit: and the pit was empty, there was no water in it.

And they sat down to eat bread: and they lifted up their eyes and looked, and, behold, a company of youths came from London with their entourages bearing black jeans, blazers and eyeliner, carrying it for the stage.

And Judah said unto his brethren, What profit is it if we slay our brother, and conceal his blood?

Come, and let us sell him to One Direction, and let not our hand be upon him; for he is our brother and our flesh. And his brethren were content.

just learned that magnolias are so old that they’re pollinated by beetles because they existed before bees

They existed *before beetles*

Why is this sad? Why am I sad?

https://xkcd.com/1259/

This is how I feel about Joshua Trees. They and avocado trees produce fruit meant to be eaten and dispersed by giant ground sloths. Without them, the Joshua Trees’ range has shrunk by 90%.

(my own photos)

Not only they, but the entire Mojave ecosystem is still struggling to adapt since the loss of ground sloth dung. their chief fertilizer.

Many, many trees and plants in the Americas have widely-spaced, extremely long thorns that do nothing to discourage deer eating their leaves, but would’ve penetrated the fur of ground sloths and mammoths. Likewise, if you’ve observed a tree that drops baseball or softball-sized fruit which lies on the ground and rots, like Osage Oranges, which were great for playing catch at my school, chances are they were ground sloth or mammoth chow.

You can read about various orphaned plants and trees missing their megafauna in this poignant post:



First quote from the linked article. Found it poetic.

Literally how I feel about my special interests and such…hes so good im gonna throw up

This is it, the best news story (from BBC news):

Ok, so here is the croissant that started all this mess:

When asked about what kind of animal might it be, the woman said: "It's this, oh, what is it called... A lagun!"

The devil works fast, but The Krakow Animal Welfare Society works faster:

They already made a merchandise with an illustration of the lagun - they posted information about it on Facebook on Tuesday evening and by the Wednesday morning everything was already sold out.

My university professors are so delighted about this story that they are writing tons and tons of limericks, moskaliks and lepiejs (those two last genres are very popular, ridiculous and humorous types of short poems, in last decades popularized by Wisława Szymborska) and posting them on official Facebook pages of our university departments, and I am dying of laughter.

Important update on the story: owners of cafés and bakeries in Kraków realized that this wonderful idiocy that took over the country could bring them profit and help animals, and started selling croissants labeled as laguns: i.e. Massolit Café & Bakery is sending 10% of income from selling laguns to the Krakow Animal Welfare Society. Thankfully laguns are selling like hotcakes and bakeries don't plan to stop making them, so the story that started and could quickly die as just another seasonal nonsense transformed into a tool for helping small, helpless, vulnerable creatures, far less dangerous than vicious lagun.

This is how cyptids get started.

Oh to be an interesting creature in a tree that turns out to actually be a pastry stranded far from anything it could consider a home

Sometimes the rats in my brain come together and start yelling “YEARNING” and in trying to appease them I ask “FOR WHAT” but they are too small so all they can say is “YEARNING” which is a very big word for such a tiny creature, even collectively

I loved this visual so much I had to doodle it.

ratratratratrat