"Why Didn't They Just Communicate?? They're So Stupid!" Have You Considered That Communicating With Someone

insane how sexism damaged how we research (and what we know about) animals. did you grow up being taught that only male birds sing? you may be entitled to financial compensation

a spin on a classic

by this drop of rain that fell on my face from the window across the room. like. 6 feet away.

yeah by this lil stray droplet imma swear that I'll actually get some work done today cause if this lil buddy could travel this distance to just. idk. poke my eye (at least attempt to), i as well can travel a distance from my bed to my desk and poke my paperworks' eyes (at least attempt to)

ao3 is crazy because you'll read the most gut-wrenching 200k word slowburn that leaves you sobbing into your sweater at four in the morning and the author will be applejacksmonstercock

don’t talk to ME about gay yearning. in 2020 during lockdown i lived alone on a boat for three months. i went ashore once a day to work in a marine bio lab. we all had to access the lab at different times so we were never together & risking infection. i was alone all day every day, from my boat to the lab and back to my boat. one day a woman anchored her boat beside mine. we passed each other ashore just once at the harbor and she hit on me and invited me back to her boat. i told her i’d love nothing more but i could not risk exposure because of my weak immune system. she said it was a shame but that she understood. that night i was watering my vegetable garden i grew in 5 gallon buckets up on my roof and playing music on my speaker. “american pie” came on and she climbed up on her roof and shouted all the lyrics to every verse at me across the water and we danced together on our respective roofs. she raised anchor and moved on a few days later.

so yeah i know what it is to die a thousand deaths in an instant while your heart beats on.

colors

something something the poetry of science etc

A politician dies…

And ends up standing in front of the pearly gates. Saint Peter looks at him for a second, flicks through his book, and finds his name.

“So, you’re a politician…” “Well, yes, is that a problem?” “Oh no, no problem. But we’ve recently adopted a new system for people in your line of work, and unfortunately you will have to spend a day in Hell. After that however, you’re free to choose where you want to spend eternity!”

“Wait, I have to spend a day in Hell??” says the politician. “Them’s the rules” Says St Peter, clicks his fingers, and WOOMPH, the guy dissapears… And awakes, curled up with his hands over his eyes, knowing he’s in Hell. Cautiously, he listens for the screams, sniffs the air for brimstone, and finds… Nothing. Just the smell of, is that fabric softener? And cut grass, this can’t be right?

“Open your eyes!” says a voice. “C'mon, wakey wakey, we’ve only got 24 hours!”. Nervously, he uncovers his eyes, looks around, and sees he’s in a hotel room. A nice one too. Wait, this is a penthouse suite… And there’s a smiling man in a suit, holding a martini. “Who are you??” The politician asks. “Well, I’m Satan!” says the man, handing him the drink and helping him to his feet. “Welcome to Hell!” “Wait, this is Hell? But… Where’s all the pain and suffering?” he asks. Satan throws him a wink. “Oh, we’ve been a bit mis-represented over the years, it’s a long story. Anyway, this is your room! The minibar is of course free, as is the room service, there’s extra towels next to the hot-tub, and if you need anything, just call reception. But enough of this! It’s a beautiful day, and if you’d care to look outside…” Slightly stunned by the opulent surroundings, the man wanders over to the floor-to-ceiling windows through which the sun is glowing, looks far down, and sees a group of people cheering and waving at him from a golf course. “It’s one of 5 pro-level courses on site, and there’s another 6 just a few minutes drive out past the beach and harbour!” says Satan, answering his unasked question. So they head down in the lift, walk out through the glittering lobby where everyone waves and welcomes the man, as Satan signs autographs and cherrily talks shop with the laughing staff. And as he walks out, he sees the group on the golf course are made up of every one of his old friends, people he’s admired for years but never met or worked with, and people whose work he’s admired but died long before his career started. And out of the middle of this group walks his wife, with a massive smile and the body she had when she was 20, who throws her arms around him and plants a delicate kiss on his cheek. Everyone cheers and applauds, and as they slap him on the back and trade jokes, his worst enemy arrives, as a 2 foot tall goblin-esque caddy. He spends the day in the bright sunshine on the course, having the time of his life laughing at jokes and carrying important discussions, putting the world to rights with his friends while holding his delighted wife next to him as she gazes lovingly at him. Later, they return to the hotel for dinner and have an enormous meal, perfectly cooked, which descends into a food-fight when someone accidentally throws a bread roll at the next table (where Ghandi is having a game of truth-or-dare with Marylin Monroe). As everyone is falling about laughing and flinging breadsticks at each other, his wife whispers in his ear… And they return to their penthouse suite, and spend the rest of the night making love like they did on their honeymoon. After 6 hours of intense passion, the man falls deep into the 100% Egyptian cotton pillows, and falls into a deep and happy sleep… And is woken up by St Peter. “So, that was Hell. Wasn’t what you were expecting, I bet?” “No sir!” says the man. “So then” says St Peter “you can make your choice. It’s Hell, which you saw, or Heaven, which has choral singing, talking to God, white robes, and so on”. “Well… I know this sounds strange, but on balance, I think I’d prefer Hell” says the politician. “Not a problem, we totally understand! Enjoy!” Says St Peter, and clicks his fingers again.

The man wakes up in total darkness, the stench of ammonia filling the air and distant screams the only noise. As he adjusts, he can see the only light is from belches of flame far away, illuminating the ragged remains of people being tortured or burning in a sulphurous ocean. A sudden bolt of lightning reveals Satan next to him, wearing the same suit as before and grinning, holding a soldering iron in one hand and a coil of razor-wire in the other. “What’s this??” He cries. “Where’s the hotel?? Where’s my wife??? Where’s the minibar, the golf-courses, the pool, the restaurant, the free drinks and the sunshine???”

“Ah”, says Satan. “You see, yesterday, we were campaigning. But today, you voted…”

ashes to ashes, dust to dust, reeses to pieces

Can we talk about the alternate ending where Dragon Sylus kills his beloved because of the dragon curse—just as he feared? He curls his tail around her limp body, refusing to accept the truth.