at the start of every month everyone reblogs some insane poetry that’s like “august has arrived and again I swallow my bones in the burning sun” and every time I’m like damn that makes no sense. but kind of true.
I love you bite marks I love you hickeys I love you fingertip-shaped bruises I love you scratchmarks down the back and shoulders I love you lasting, tangible proof of passion and desire and ownership
once you stop fantasizing about that ideal version of yourself and start working towards becoming that person by setting your alarm clock earlier and actually going to the gym and actually volunteering at places and actually eating healthier and not procrastinating and working just a little bit harder you’ll realize that it was so easy all along. becoming your ideal self will only ever exist in your mind until you make the decision to work towards becoming that person. get up!! get going!! it’s now or never!! there is no light at the end of the tunnel!! get that flashlight and pave your own path bitch bc no one else is going to do it for u!!
ok some days being visibly homo is the most wonderful thing in the world. an old woman walking her dog stopped to say hello to me and I asked if i could say hi to her dog. she seemed really excited and told me "his name is rupert brooke. i named him after a gay poet from the era of the first world war. he had red hair just like my dogs fur". then she leans in and whispers like she's divulging some great secret and says "i don't usually tell people about the gay part"
Send me to Mars with party supplies before next august 5th
No guys you don’t understand.
The soil testing equipment on Curiosity makes a buzzing noise and the pitch of the noise changes depending on what part of an experiment Curiosity is performing, this is the way Curiosity sings to itself.
So some of the finest minds currently alive decided to take incredibly expensive important scientific equipment and mess with it until they worked out how to move in just the right way to sing Happy Birthday, then someone made a cake on Curiosity’s birthday and took it into Mission control so that a room full of brilliant scientists and engineers could throw a birthday party for a non-autonomous robot 225 million kilometres away and listen to it sing the first ever song sung on Mars*, which was Happy Birthday.
This isn’t a sad story, this a happy story about the ridiculousness of humans and the way we love things. We built a little robot and called it Curiosity and flung it into the star to go and explore places we can’t get to because it’s name is in our nature and then just because we could, we taught it how to sing.
That’s not sad, that’s awesome.
*this is different from the first song ever played on mars (Reach For The Stars by Will.I.Am) which happened the year before, singing is different from playing
This is humanity
Happy Birthday, Curiousity.
Happy birthday, Curiosity.
getting used to & comfortable with your own bare chest as a neutral & not inherently gendered thing over the course of an evening alone and then having to go out in public again the next day & feel weird about it again like prometheus and his liver except every day you're forced to regrow an awareness of society gendering anatomy
Dragons are extraordinarily good mimics, escaping human predation by disguising themselves as common airliners, some even going so far as to sport crude copies of carrier logos. This makes them difficult to track, though most sources agree that the dragon population is critically endangered.
While there has been some success with halting large-scale dragon hunting, conservationists are still concerned about a recent spate of crashes in otherwise healthy adults.
Given that dragons communicate via radio signals and that most crashes occur near military radar stations, it is theorized that the radar may be disorienting the dragons. Investigations are still ongoing.
I fixed it
You fixed it!!
Good job!
[Caption: the post contains various drawings of dragons looking like planes, crashing on beaches and being rescued, transported and healed until they can fly again.]
