Rise Up, Oh Heart, For There is Another Battle to Win

Aesthetic

kai-ni:

drferox:

The computer said my next patient’s name was Lucifer, and that he was a domestic. Not that an unusual name for a pet, I have to admit.

“Come on in. Do you have Lucifer hiding in that box for me?” I say. A gentleman dressed all in black with a rather spiky aesthetic and a selection of piercings comes into my consult room and opens the box.

He places a perfectly black rabbit on the table.

Honestly, I had been expecting a cat.

Turns out Lucifer is his new rabbit. He’d insisted on taking it from a friend who wasn’t taking care of it a few months ago.

Lucifer, for his part, had decided the table was too scary and that his dad’s leather clad armpit was the best place to be.

To my surprise and delight, our new goth rabbit owner is doing everything right. Perfect diet, read up on rabbit health, vaccinating, enrichment, the works.

He even started a vegetable garden to grow treats for the rabbit, or as he put it, “tributes for lucifer.”

I….. I love this …..

(via clockwork-mockingbird)

setepenre-set:

gatheringbones:

concept: Aliens who have absolutely no cultural or personal use for humor as a concept, but are very adept at figuring out socio-linguistic systems and how to manipulate them. Being funny makes humans more comfortable and easier to negotiate with, and it’s easy enough once you familiarize yourself with a particular culture and set your speech synthesizers to the correct setting. 

and i mean sure eventually they’re great at it, but at some point in time a group of haggard aliens in a room somewhere compare notes on irony, hyperbole, and cultural references, with one exhausted individual clicking “No, Gxiiijhux VIII, puns are a no-go, puns are counterproductive, I don’t care if Susan emitted optimal pleasure decibels, everyone else in that room hated you.” 

Gxiiijhux VIII finds xemself unexpectedly annoyed at the Merchant-Leader’s correction. 

Although further experience indicates that the Merchant-Leader is right about the puns, Gxiiijhux VIII somehow cannot help xemself from clicking out several more of them during the next negotiation session. (All of the humans in the room groan except for Susan, who, again, emits optimal pleasure decibels)

“You need to stop,” the Merchant Leader clicks in frustration.

(But Gxiiijhux VIII can’t seem to stop.)

Gxiiijhux VIII realizes halfway through the trade negotiations that xie is more interested in causing Susan to emit the optimal pleasure decibels than in the successful negotiation of a lucrative trade regulation treaty. This causes xem much stress and confusion.

Eventually, the marriage of Gxiiijhux VIII and Susan is included as a feature of the treaty.

(Gxiiijhux VIII’s former associates breathe a sigh of relief as the merchant ship pulls away from the space station, leaving Gxiiijhux VIII, Susan, and the terrible puns behind.)

Gxiiijhux VIII never does quite get the human concept of humor, but xie is quite content to spend xyr life listening to Susan make the optimal pleasure decibel sounds anyway.

(via windbladess)

toadschooled:

skarchomp:

It was an itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny,
Hypsibius dujardini

It was an itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny,

Atelopus Bartolini

(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)