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This is how they roll, right??

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‘germanic warrior with helmet’ - osmar schindler (1902)

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(source)

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Gravity on different Solar System bodies

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petition to make Americans google “euro” before writing fic

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The equivalent of Antarctic research stations but in fantasy worlds like for example there’s an evil terrible region of rotting and nightmares but like nine miles from the edge there’s a very ugly little building optimistically called Observation Center 1 and it’s full of normal humans just vibing. for like 90% of the year they can’t leave because that’s Death Fog Season but it balances out because they can study the ghost migrations and also hear the whalesong-like calls of The Unspeakable Ones asking you to come outside for a game of checkers but thankfully the checkers set is kept locked up to slow down anyone that gets tempted

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“On the Way” (Едут) by Aleksandr Labas (1935)

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Jenaro Pindú

Jenaro Pindú (1946–1993) was a prominent cartoonist, sculptor and architect of Paraguay. He was a student of Hermann Guggiari, one of the best-known Paraguayan sculptors of the twentieth century. (via Wikipedia)

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Maurice Smith (1926–2020), Architect of Complexity 

 It’s fitting that long-time MIT architecture professor Maurice Smith, who died this December at 94, had been, in his youth, a New Zealand ping-pong master because everything he taught in studios for over 40 years was nuanced with spin, subtlety and intellectual swerve. Out of his own asymmetrical spirit, in his own oblique language, from his richly layered thought system, Maurice—as everyone called him—taught students to think different. Why design a conventional three bedroom apartment when, after all, a group of Highland bagpipers might want an apartment with a figure-8 circulation?

Read the rest of the article following the source link.

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Asian Royalty: 6 ruined castles across Asia, reconstructed While some centuries-old castles are still standing tall, sadly others haven’t withstood the ravages of time, war, or natural disaster quite as well. To give you an idea of what once was, Budget Direct has collaborated with a team of researchers, architects and digital CGI masters to bring six Asian castles back to life, digitally. Here’s Japan’s Hagi Castle, which was built in 1604 but sadly was dismantled in 1874: Other castles explored in the series of reconstructions are:

Alamut Castle, Alamut Valley, Iran

The Old Summer Palace, Beijing, China

Citadel of Ghazni, Ghazni, Afghanistan

Raigad Fort, Raigad, Maharashtra, India

Takeda Castle, Asago, Hyōgo, Japan

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Hiromu Arakawa’s genius is obvious throughout all of FMA but her first and biggest leap of genius was in how she crafted her protagonist. 

Arakawa realized the burgeoning youth of the early 2000s wasnt interested in another plucky spry optimistic young shonen protag. Instead she gave us a short ugly egotistical asshole smarter-than-you atheist with so much money and power that people could no longer best him in arguments by telling him “dude shut up ur literally like 12″ 

Five pages in we’re told Edward’s famous and rich and powerful. Five more pages and he’s calling some girl stupid for thinking God exists. Five more pages and he’s proven right. Five more and he’s kicked an evil priest’s teeth in. And no one can tell his mom on him.

Hiromu Arakawa figured out the dream of every edgy young weeb discovering internet arguments for the first time and she cast them an idol made of gold.

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How and when did dragons turn into cats

baby dragons that sleep in your fireplace and roll about in the soot and the ash trying to get comfortable on burning logs, screeching loudly whenever people walk by or when more logs need to be added to its roost and not stopping until content again

baby dragons with wings that are disproportionate to their bodies until older but nonetheless stubbornly trying to pick themselves up off the ground by running and aggressively flapping and managing to only get a few feet off the ground for a few seconds before crash landing

baby dragons that haven’t been exposed to priceless things such as gems and gold pieces and instead infatuate themselves with other unusual shiny things — like silverware, brass clocks, instruments, and pots and pans

baby dragons who get cold in the winter and crawl up into their caretaker’s clothing (almost always while said clothing is being worn) and curl up as tight as possible and begin to make sounds similar to content purring as they sleep

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Estádio Milton Corrêa, usually known as Zerão, is a multi-purpose stadium located in Macapá, Brazil. The stadium has a maximum capacity of 10,000 people and was built in 1990. The name (and the fame) come from the unusual circumstance that the midfield line supposedly lies exactly on the Equator - zero latitude -, thus causing each team to defend one hemisphere.

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You guys, you must stop doing this. You must. We cannot keep yelling at you about it because it makes us so angry, and we are already angry all the time, about real things, like how our lives are turning into a real world Handmaid’s Tale, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha haha ha ha ha ha ha. We cannot keep spending our energy being mad at mediocre men for writing mediocre books that inexplicably win awards and that people tell us to read, for some fucking godawful who knows reason.

So men. My guys. My dudes. My bros. My writers. I am begging you to help me here. When you have this man in your workshop, you must turn to him. You must take his clammy hands in yours. You must look deep into his eyes, his man eyes, with your man eyes, and you must say to him, “Peter, I am a man, and you are a man, so let us talk to each other like men. Peter, look at the way you have written about the only four women in this book.” And Peter will say, trying to free his hands, “What? These are sexy, dynamic, interesting women.” And you must grip his hands even tighter and you must say to him, “ARE THEY, PETER? Why are they interesting? What are their hobbies? What are their private habits? What are their strange dreams? What choices are they making, Peter? They are not making choices. They are not interesting. What they are is sexy, and you have those things confused, and not in the good way where someone’s interestingness makes them become sexy, like Steve Buscemi or Pauline Viardot. Why must women be sexy to be interesting to you? The women you don’t find sexy are where, Peter? They are invisible? They are all dead?” He is trying to escape! Tighten your grasp. “Peter, look at this. I mean, where to begin. ‘She could have been any age between eighteen and thirty-five?’ There are no other ages, I guess? Do you know what eighteen-year-olds really look like, in life? Do you know what thirty-SEVEN-year-olds look like, god forbid? And not that this is even the point, but why are these supposedly sexy and dynamic and interesting women BOTHERING with your boring garbage ‘on the skinny side of average’ protagonist? Why did you write it like this, Peter?” 

And maybe Peter will say at last, “I don’t know.” Maybe he will be silent for a long long long time, and then maybe he will say, “I guess it’s scary and difficult for me to imagine the interiority of women because then i would have to know that my mother had an interiority of her own: private, petty, sexually unstimulating, strange: unrelated to me and undevoted to my needs. That sometimes I was nothing to my mother, just as sometimes she is nothing to me. That I was not at all times her immediate concern.”

“I know, Peter,” you can tell him gently.

“I don’t want to know that my mother was a human being with an internal life, because to know that would be to risk a frightening intimacy with her,” Peter will say, maybe. “Because to know that would be to know that she was only a small, complicated person, no bigger or smaller than I am, and I am so small. To know how alone she was. How alone I am. How alone we all are. That my mother survived with no resources more mysterious than my own. And yet she gave me life. My God: she gave me life. How can I pay her back for that? And how can I forgive her for it? How can I ever repay her for the good and the evil of it, my life, every day of my life?” He will be sobbing probably. “I am frightened of her. I am frightened of loneliness. I am frightened of dying. O God. My God. I didn’t know. I didn’t know.” Drool will run from his mouth as he cries. The way babies cry. He will be ashamed. You must hold him. You must say, “Shh, Peter. Shh.” Wrap your man arms around him. Hum into his thin hair as your own mother hummed once into your own sweet-smelling baby scalp. Kiss him gently on his mouth. There. You did it, men. You fixed sexism. Thank you. You’re the real hero here, as always, you men, and your special man powers, for making art. 

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How to prevent carpal tunnel