(That she and I may grow old together)

that's how I met @slb.sh

kai ryssdal begins to worry after many years that the numbers had been doing him all along

Dead Language

meantforyou.beehiiv.com/p/dead-langu...

Yea what are you doing next week

I really dig that our Mayor just sent a bunch of people down a (short) rabbit hole that ends with them watching S&M handjobs on HBO

!!!! this was entirely a joke, I had no idea lmao

Charles Aznavour? That’s the blonde fella what piloted the Zaku II S Type, right?

An AI dares to dream that she is human. You’ve been hired to put her in her place.

We’re sunset visitor 斜陽過客, the creators of 1000xRESIST, and this is our next game: Prove You’re Human.

Published by our friends at @blacktabbygames.com.

s.team/a/4533950

she called me George Saunders cuz we’re linkin in the bar tho

hoping that we aren’t, more or less, here

bsky.app/profile/grip...

I’m nostalgic for the rope-centric imagery of the previous wave

"He knew it was impossible to forbid Vronsky to toy with painting; he knew that he and all the dilettantes had every right to paint whatever they liked, but he found it unpleasant. It was impossible to forbid a man to make a big wax doll and kiss it. But if this man with the doll came and sat in front of a man in love and began to caress his doll the way the man in love caressed his beloved, the man in love would find it unpleasant."

A few lines from Anna Karenina to recall the next time someone starts describing their relationship with an AI chatbot.

“cyber-gigabyte“…!!

I remember the first albatross I ever saw.

it’s church

HASTINGS: I say, Poirot, this vial’s labeled “hyaluronic acid”! Is it a poison?
SKINCARE HERCULE POIROT: Non, mon ami. This acid, it replenishes the skin’s barrier naturale
HASTINGS: So this is a gal who takes care of her skin.
SKINCARE HERCULE POIROT: *irritated* The gentleman may use it as well

Alas! Back to: 0/361 of a handsome Go set

Realis A new tabletop roleplaying game by Austin Walker

REALIS, the science fantasy TTRPG I’ve been working on for the last five years, is now live on Kickstarter!

55 Player Classes
150+ NPC Classes
29 Factions
20 Example Moons of Realis
GMing and Prep Guidance
Over 100 incredible illustrations from 17 artists!

www.kickstarter.com/projects/cru...

1993 Esquire mag MARK WAHLBERG

June '93 classic.esquire.com/article/1993...

you now have 1/361 of a handsome Go set

seems strange that we put these under animalia? but I am also a creature that lives in controversial categories so solidarity with the sea sponges I guess

people love not reading the article

b&w photo of Akira Kurosawa (far right of the frame) standing, seen from the knees up, smiling at Mifune who is on the far left of the frame, seen from the waist up in side view with katana over his left shoulder, Seven Samurai village in background

anyway here's Akira Kurosawa gazing lovingly at Toshiro Mifune on the set of Seven Samurai

on destroying the internet

One night a moth flew into the candle, was caught, burnt dry, and held. I must have been staring at the candle, or maybe I looked up when a shadow crossed my page; at any rate, i saw it all. A golden female moth, a biggish one with a two-inch wingspan, flapped into the fire, drupped her abdomen into the wet wax, stuck, flamed, frazzled and fried in a second. Her moving wings ignited like tissue paper, enlarging the circle of light in the clearing and creating out of the darkness the sudden blue sleeves of my sweater, the green leaves of jewel weed by my side, the ragged red trunk of a pine. At once the light contracted again and the moth's wings vanished in a fine, foul smoke. At the same time her six legs clawed, curled, blackened, and ceased, disappearing utterly. And her head jerked in spasms, making a spattering noise; her antennae crisped and burned away and her heaving mouth parts crackled like pistol fire. When it was all over, her head was, so far as I could determine, gone, gone the long way of her wings and legs. Had she been new, or old? Had she mated and laid her—

eggs, had she done her work? All that was left was the glowing horn shell of her abdomen and thorax-a fraying, partially collapsed gold tube jammed upright in the candle's round pool. And then this moth essence, this spectacular skeleton, began to act as a wick. She kept burning. The wax rose in the moth's body from her soaking abdomen to her thorax to the jagged hole where her head should be, and widened into flame, a saffron-yellow flame that robed her to the ground like any immolating monk. That candle had two wicks, two flames of identical height, side by side. The moth's head was fire. She burned for two hours, until I blew her out. She burned for two hours without changing, without bending or leaning-only glowing within, like a building fire glimpsed through silhouetted walls, like a hollow saint, like a flame-faced virgin gone to God, while I read by her light, kindled, while Rimbaud in Paris burnt out his brains in a thousand poems, while night pooled wetly at my feet.

Holy the Firm

lmao the eurovision mascot is so ugly I literally screamed at this reveal

No town-bred dandy will compare with a country-bred one—I mean a downright bumpkin dandy