A family can be J. Fitzjames, H.T.D. Le Vesconte and their son cheetah.

Birdwatching with Terra Ignota fans

Utopian 1, who posted the image: This bird is a Hiveguard

Utopian 2: But from which Hive?

Mason: EU with an Irish Orangeman’s strat?

Minor: The feathers are somewhat like a warm, multitextured wooly sweater; the bird is Gordian

Utopian 2: The bird blends in with the background; this bird is Utopian.

Utopian 3: This bird exemplifies the human virtue of thiccness: a Humanist

Blacklaw 1: This bird is small, fluffy, and predominantly white with some blue: this bird is a Cousin

Gordian 1: The coloration of the bird’s plumage changes with the seasons; this bird is Mitsubishi.

Mason: This bird clearly has nothing left to lose, and DGAF; this bird is a Servicer

Utopian 4: This bird asks for the protection of no law, and troubles not the Leviathans; this bird is a Blacklaw.

Gordian 2: This bird builds its home, and acts according to laws far older than itself, which its forebearers set in place for it, and so does it prosper; this bird is a Mason.

Humanist: The bird shall act as their ancestors did, eating the same food and fighting the same duels; this bird is a European.

Utopian 5: this bird flies around seeking new lands, this bird is a utopian.

Minor: Presented with the Adulthood Competency Examination, this bird crapped on the page and flew away; it is still a Minor.

Cousin: This bird cares for your wellbeing and has alighted on this branch with the purpose to bring you joy. This bird is a Cousin.

Utopian 1: This bird abstains from drugs and alcohol, does not patronize prostitutes, and is generally clean and of good character. This bird is a Whitelaw.

Blacklaw 2: This bird is a U-beast

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Posted with the consent of all here represented, except the bird, who could not be reached for comment.

“Toss A Coin To Your Witcher” | Music Composed & Produced by Sonya Belousova & Giona Ostinelli, lyrics by Jenny Klein, Sonya Belousova & Giona Ostinelli, performed by Joey Batey

“…the cat was soon forgiven, for on the 19th she presented [Erebus] with three kittens. ‘Such an event as that you may think nothing of, but to us it is a great deal, for a kitten tends to relieve the monotony of such a cruise as this,’ [John Davis wrote]. The next day ‘they were shown on a warmed clean plate to Captain Ross.”

—Michael Palin, Erebus

At long last: an exasperated James Clark Ross and two of the ship’s kittens. I promise that Francis Crozier is just off screen, laughing at him but also finding the whole thing rather endearing.

Edit: I’m sorry if you already reblogged this but I realized my phone’s contrast/balance was off! So I re-uploaded the picture in a more appropriately-saturated version. 

Francis/Blanky + making each other laugh (◕▿◕✿)

For a certain dashing polar explorer’s 220th birthday, I’ve put together a Google Drive folder of files about–or at least tangentially related to–James Clark Ross. It’s mostly primary sources and academic articles, with some random other things as well. You can access the folder here; the PDF titled “Index” has a bibliography and a couple of notes. Enjoy!

(And please feel free to message me if you have questions–or if there’s anything I can find for you!)

it is ok to be friendlé

moist bois

OMG I’ve never seen wet lion manes. I never imagined this. OMG this is so much. I have so many feels. I love them all.

Calanthe: *big dick energy*

Eist: (♥‿♥)

Me @ myself in the restaurant mirror after 4 glasses of nice wine: Insane but beautiful, how does she do it

Sonar image of the HMS Terror which appears to have been abandoned and sank slowly and gently to the bottom in about 25 metres of water off King William Island in Canada's high Arctic. (Parks Canada 2016)

anyway this Yale course on Dante is amazing 

just, like, a nice Italian man telling you passionately about how much he loves Dante and doing interesting things with etymologies 

Fitzconte fluff!

They’re actually cats I’m telling you

oh so you consider the past “romantic” but when I tell you about my dream of being an 1800s arctic explorer who dies homoromantically frozen in the arms of their shipmate while dreaming of tar-black horror terrors under the ice and forgetting the taste of sunshine, shivering and calling Billy’s name over and over out again even though he’s stopped moving and it echoes against the frigid rotting halls of the ship as the cold eats away at my nerve endings

suddenly I’m “disturbed” and won’t be invited to anymore “Victorian themed weddings.” hypocrites.

do you think Geralt and Roach ever argue?? mean like serious disagreements I mean like. Geralt out in the woods, having a one-sided argument with his horse over where or not a hotdog is a kind of sandwich.

Geralt: Roach is giving me the silent treatment again :|

Jaskier, who knows horses are incapable of talking: