what-is-my-face

[what-is-my-face]

[what-is-my-face]

Stories should have in-universe clichés and stereotypes. A teenage dragon rider who gets a dragon who will be his steed for life and is a solid inky black and immediately names her Midnight. He then immediately encounters someone who sees his steed who goes "lmao please don't tell me you're one of those young riders who gets a dark-colour dragon and immediately names it Darkness or Midnight or something, and starts acting like being dark and broody has been their whole thing their whole life."

And he immediately scrambles back like "oh no of course not that's cringe, her name is - uh - Daisy."

Meanwhile the Morbid Broody Dark Gothy One is bonded with a bright dandelion yellow dragon, naming her steed Sulfur and then revamps her whole aesthetic into a black-and-yellow Toxins, Poisons And Venoms -theme.

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The fact that animals that care for their young will sometimes adopt others' lost or orphaned young to raise along their own is just funny to me. I know that it's all hormonal and there's no conscious thought involved in it, but the internal logic of it is so funny.

"Baby = success. More baby = more success. I have one baby and I found four other baby. I have five baby. I am being so fucking successful right now."

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retirin these prints ~ most only have a couple remainin' ~ oh and they're on sale, how cool!

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and a shoutout to the two Māori men who travelled to Vienna in 1859, got themselves apprenticed as printers (and incidentally became accomplished ballroom dancers), and finally had an audience with Franz Josef where they charmed him so much that he sent a printing press to New Zealand….which was promptly used from 1861 to print the newspaper of the Kingitanga anti-colonial movement.

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Meet the 22-year-old grocery store clerk and Heritage Foundation intern who now stands between us and domestic terrorism.

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There was a young man from Peru

Whose limericks stopped at line two

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Well, that didn't last long. The Trump administration has reversed its reversal on rounding up immigrant farmworkers.

Looks like bloodline-purity czar Stephen Miller won. Again.

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Another day, another Democrat thrown against a wall. This time it was NYC comptroller Brad Lander. Who's next?

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Golfing through LGBTQ teen suicide.

Trump administration finalizes the end of special counseling services for callers to 988 hotline

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Whispering sweet apocalyptic nothings. Mike Huckabee, heaven help us, has the ear of the president on what to do in Iran.

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Hey, Republicans: Criticize King Don and get yourself a free primary opponent and a long, rambling Truth Social screed from the president. Just ask Kentucky's Thomas Massie.

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BRUH a dude I know from work came in for the first time in months and I thought he looked different but couldn't figure out why?? So I asked if he'd changed his hair and he was like "BITCH I GOT TOP SURGERY"

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Horse figure of the day: Lladro Horses Group

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I just came up with a really inconvenient, possibly unplayable four-player game: The Evil Advisor

All you need is a completely normal chess board and a deck of cards that you can somehow divide into an even amount of cards that mean "yes" or "no". Out of the four players, only two need to know how to play chess - those play the role of advisor. The other two play as rulers. At the start of the game, both advisors pull a random card from the deck, which dictates whether their goal is to win the game, or lose it. They keep their respective card, showing it to nobody else.

The rulers, who ultimately choose where to move the pieces, always aim to win the chess game, and also know that the advisor may or may not be on their side, and don't know whether to trust the advisor or not.

If the ruler wins the chess game, they win the whole game. An advisor only wins if they reach their own goal - if an advisor's goal was to lose, but the ruler wins, the advisor loses, and vice versa.

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So there you are, number one employee at your company, team lead, bringing in more profit by yourself than the rest of the employees combined and everyone knows it. And then one day, against the advice of all the other team leads, the CEO violates a safety measure, and yeah, people start dying.

Everyone knows it's the CEO's fault. Everyone knows how to fix it. But the CEO does nothing, digs his head in the sand, and pretends like shit is normal. And people are dying.

So you, young hotshot that you are, call an all hands meeting and get a specialist to explain what the problem is. It's easily solved, but it will cost money, and that money is going to have to come from the CEO.

The CEO throws a shitfit. He doesn't want to solve the problem. He doesn't want to admit under overwhelming evidence that it's his fault. But he agrees to do so under one condition--he's not paying to fix it--you are. He's taking your bonus and you can get fucked. As it turns out, the CEO, whose entire pile of wealth has come directly from your hard work, thinks you fucking suck.

Not a single one of your colleagues protests on your behalf, probably because they know that if they speak up, he'll just take their bonuses, too.

So what do you do? Do you continue working for Mr. "idc if my employees die as long as I get mine?" Do you quit? Do you take the wealth you've accumulated working for this guy and go home? Do you stab the worst boss you've ever had in front of every other employee at the company?

Anyway that's book 1 of the Iliad

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american puritan names have nothing on the first name of this 17th century dutch woman artist i just read about. my girl Tesselschade ('texel damage') named after the shipwrecking of her father's 44 trade ships on the coast of the island Texel in 1593.