Cool Geology of the Day:
This is a fulgarite. Fulgarites are formed when lightning hits sand, melting and fusing sand grains together into these unique shapes. This particular fulgarite was uncovered when the sand around it blew away.
Go home, fulgarite! You’re drunk!
“I am not a princess” Marina & the Diamonds music video by ELY
“The story reimagines a myriad of classic princess mythologies that every little boy and girl has grown up either adoring…resenting…fulfilling…(or a conflicted mixture of all those feelings), and writes each fairy tale its own unique, modern twist. This message: of carving your own path and ultimately following your heart, regardless of expectation or society, is very near and dear to me and hopefully reflected in the spirit of this film.”
Back in prehistoric times it was just a free for all. God was putting antlers on everything and made 7 foot tall gophers with wings, it was a mess.
Look at this poor, impractical bastard.
god was young and rebellious back then
that is metal as fuck
they were like god’s weeaboo years
There is some good shit on my dash tonight.
Artist painter .Kinuko Y. Craft 1940, Japanese-American painter and illustrator of fantasy art romantic
From… the place.
emily sez: The only link I have on it is defunctfashion — by Alex Ceslas Rzewuski, from 1926! Dang.
For Cheddar! <3 Her Krogan soldier Barf grows despondent over Fake Squishy’s (Swift’s decoy) continued disinterest in him. I’m still rooting for these two to work it out, but the other Angry Bees are less supportive (Mela’s Kyle, Swift’s Squishy, and my Kupo).
Happy late birthday girl, love you lots. c:
PFFFF THIS IS AMAZING. Mortified Squishy is mortified.
do you have those friends on tumblr
that you pretty much never talk to
but you follow them and they follow you
and whenever you see them on your dash
it just makes you smile and you’re so happy they’re there
and yet you’ve still barely spoken to one another
because i have a few of those
and i love you to bits okay
Imagine for a minute that you’re 19. You’re in your second year at college, three states away from home. It’s a week before midterms. Your roommate wakes you up sometime around two in the morning and says, “You just had a seizure, are you okay?” You’re disoriented, you’re confused. You feel strange. It takes a moment to realize you’re covered in sweat, your body is exhausted, and you can’t move anything on your left side - not your arms, not your legs. Your left eye is still closed. When you try to tell your roommate that, no, you’re not okay, you can barely talk.
Thankfully, your roommate is a nursing student. She helps you up, makes sure you can breathe and that you’re as comfortable as possible, and then hurries down the hall to the RA’s room, leaving the door open in case something goes wrong and you need to shout - inarticulately because your brain isn’t functioning well enough to form words - that something is wrong. You feel trapped in your own body. You’re terrified and scared, and no matter how much you think move, you can’t do a damn thing with your left hand. Even though it’s freezing, you don’t get dressed. Your roommate and your RA help you into shoes and a coat, and they all but carry you to your car, which your roommate has to drive because you physically can’t. No one is there to see you, and under all your fear of why can’t I move, why is breathing hard and I’m dying, I must be dying is a horrible embarrassment that someone might see your ass being carted to the dorm lobby.
THIS. So much this.
It’s like this: people complain about marginalisation - of women, of LGBTQ, of POC, of whatever. But it occurs to me to ask: wouldn’t just having Thane be magically cured of his incurable disease marginalise those who are living with this kind of thing every day? To say, “Hey, there’s this thing that’s shaped Thane’s character so much but I want to keep him so why don’t we just take that thing away?” takes away from what he was as a character. And for the people who live with chronic illness, how must it feel for people to say, “Oh, but he can’t be in the team of badass-awesome we collect throughout the game if he’s sick so let’s make him not-sick for our convenience and his continuing awesome”?
Okay, rant over. This just to say? I thought Thane’s death was awesome. It’s a shame that the LIs weren’t particularly balanced between male and female Shepard, but making Thane well is not the way to even things out.
I had never considered how Thane’s death would look from the POV of someone with a terminal illness. Thank you for sharing this with us, Reg, I think it was an eye-opener for a lot of people (myself included) and this couldn’t have been easy to write. This is another reason now I can reference to why I liked Thane’s death.
(That is to say, of course I was sad to see him go. But from the moment I found out that he has a terminal illness in ME2 I knew he was going to die at some point in the series. What totally blew my socks off is when he saved Shepard on the Citadel. I was surprised when that happened, but not when he ended up dying.
There’s a difference in being sad to see him go and then being upset by it. I was never upset, even before learning a new angle at which to look at the whole thing.)
- the divine comedy by dante allighieri is fanfiction of christian mythology
- la morte d’arthur is fanfiction of arthurian legend
- snow, glass, apples by neil gaiman is fanfiction of snow white
- tangled, shrek, beauty and the beast, snow white and the seven dwarfs are fanfiction of the grimm fairytales
- the grimm fairy tales are fanfiction of german folk tales
- all of shakespeare’s works are fanfiction of history and mythology
- the aeneid by virgil is fanfiction of the iliad
- the iliad and the odyssey by homer are fanfiction of greek mythology
- a song of ice and fire by george rr martin is fanfiction of every fucking fantasy trope there is
- fan fiction
- because we all draw
- from the same
- coffer that is called human consciousness
- because we write what we see and what we know
- because art is the representation of life
- to be invested in life is to be a “fan” of it
- to be invested enough to write about it is to produce literature
- i mean seriously
- the new testament is the fanfiction of the old testament
- perhaps in the same way that christianity is fanfiction of judaism
- that has ever been done
- is because something else has preceded it
- because we, as a race, is about progress
- and development
- fanfiction is a modern term
- but the process behind “fanfiction” is old
- and inherent
- in the human
This letter destroyed the 250 word limit, but since I’m a sucker for good writing, I’ll let it slide:
In a city where weather, the MTA, opportunity, and conflict are all so unpredictable, I can be certain of only one thing. If the wind isn’t too strong and it’s not pouring rain, Kishan, the bubble man, will be standing near the steps of Bethesda Terrace creating bubbles that stretch so large, they look like translucent elephants floating into the clouds.
I first stumbled upon Kishan during class one day. We were given an assignment to take our video cameras out and explore the city by filming elements surrounding us given our half hour time frame. With a stroke of luck and rebellion, we ended up in the park, and for a solid hour filmed a bubble in every which way one can film a bubble. When we brought our footage back, our peers were fascinated with the way the sunlight reflected off the soap suds and how gently they would pop and create a mid-air waterfall.
Later in my freshman year, the Communications Department required students within the major to declare a concentration: one of them being a focus in film. This concentration was more selective and applicants were required to produce creative work alongside their application. Stressed and in need of inspiration, I walked through the park and stumbled upon the bubble man, yet again.
He immediately remembered my name, something that most New Yorkers realize isn’t a regularity. Stunned and somewhat touched, I asked him if I could film him for my concentration project. He agreed, and for the next two weeks, Kishan and I talked bubbles.
A very good actor, subject- I didn’t know what to call him- his awareness of the camera was fascinating. The control of his bubbles— even more breathtaking. “What do you want me to do now, Sarah?” “Uh, I’m not sure.” “How about you go inside a bubble? That might look cool.” I would nod and hit record. Before I knew it, I was enveloped by a transparent casing, and for a slight second his enthusiasm makes you wonder if your feet might slightly lift off the ground. As if, maybe he has a secret to levitation, gravity, and flight.
I’d ask him: “You do this everyday, don’t you?” He said, “Why not? It makes people happy. It makes me happy. There’s nothing I love more than watching some big guy, well in his 40s transfixed by this giant bubble in the sky. He follows it around.” Bubbles see no age, I suppose.
I set the final film to a classical Chopin piece, and watched, fascinated by how natural Kishan’s art complemented the music. I had a thought- maybe Kishan is beyond a bubble blower. He’s a composer, Bethesda Fountain’s own Mozart, waving his hands in the air and creating these physical notes that hit this part inside of us that we thought left us long ago: our innocence. He endures an ethereal symphony, and if you’re lucky, you can hear his music.
How to pick up chicks
|—||Lamenting the Friendzone, or: The Nice Guy Approach to Perpetuating Sexist Bullshit (via sp1r1tw3rld)|
You think I’m joking. I am not.
After my work out, I hopped out of the pool and grabbed my towel. About five or six chair things down were these two guys, probably in high school. They weren’t exactly talking quietly, and one said to the other “Dude, that looks like something Shepard would wear. We should say something” while his friend kept going “Don’t do it, man. Don’t do it. Don’t say anything.”
I lingered. It was too amusing not to.
And then the first guy calls out, “Hey, Commander Shepard! How goes the fight against the Reapers?”
Because I refuse to be out-trolled, I turned and said, “You’d know if you were helping instead of sitting by a pool, Alenko.” The kid looked like I’d clobbered him. I leaned back, pointed at his friend, who looked like he was muttering no way over and over, and said, “You, too, Vakarian? Get your guns, boys, we’ve got Reapers to shoot.”
And then I went into the locker room.
Best. Swim. Ever.
WHY CAN I NOT LIKE THIS MORE THAN ONCE
Best shit ever, or BEST SHIT EVER? 8DDD