With Halloween just around the corner, NASA has released its latest Galaxy of Horrors posters. Presented in the style of vintage horror movie advertisements. As fun and creative as all three posters are, they're based on real phenomena. 🎃

    Can you hear this exoplanet screaming?

    As HD 80606 b approaches its star from an extreme, elliptical orbit, it suffers star-grazing torture that causes howling, supersonic winds and shockwave storms across the planet. Its torturous journey boils its atmosphere to a hellish 2,000 degrees Fahrenheit every 111 days, roasting both its light and dark sides. HD 80606b will never escape this scorching nightmare.

    This bone-chilling force will leave you shivering alone in terror!

    An unseen power is prowling throughout the cosmos, driving the universe to expand at a quickening rate. This relentless pressure, called dark energy, is nothing like dark matter, that mysterious material only revealed by its gravitational pull. Dark energy offers a bigger fright: pushing galaxies farther apart over trillions of years, leaving the universe to an inescapable, freezing death in the pitch black expanse of outer space.​

    Cygnus X-1 Presents:

    It’s Dinner Time and You’re The Meal!

    Lurking in our galaxy, approximately 6,000 light-years from Earth, is a monster named CygnusX-1. This black hole, which has about 14.8 times the mass of our Sun, will stretch and squeeze anything it captures in its immense gravity. Cygnus X-1 is waiting, snacking on its neighboring star. Don’t get too close, or you’ll become its next meal!

    This chillingly haunted galaxy mysteriously stopped making stars only a few billion years after the Big Bang! It became a cosmic cemetery, illuminated by the red glow of decaying stars. Dare to enter, and you might encounter the frightening corpses of exoplanets or the final death throes of once-mighty stars.

    Something strange and mysterious creeps throughout the cosmos. Scientists call it dark matter. It is scattered in an intricate web that forms the skeleton of our universe. Dark matter is invisible, only revealing its presence by pushing and pulling on objects we can see. NASA’s Roman Space Telescope will investigate its secrets. What will be revealed?

    In the depths of the universe, the cores of two collapsed stars violently merge to release a burst of the deadliest and most powerful form of light, known as gamma rays. These beams of doom are unleashed upon their unfortunate surroundings, shining a million trillion times brighter than the Sun for up to 30 terrifying seconds. No spaceship will shield you from the blinding destruction of the gamma ray ghouls!

    These doomed worlds were among the first and creepiest to be discovered as they orbit an undead star known as a pulsar. Pulsar planets like Poltergeist and its neighboring worlds, Phobetor and Draugr, are consumed with constant radiation from the star’s core. Nothing but the undead can subsist in this most inhospitable corner of the galaxy.

    This far-off blue planet may look like a friendly haven – but don’t be deceived! Weather here is deadly. The planet’s cobalt blue color comes from a hazy, blow-torched atmosphere containing clouds laced with glass. Howling winds send the storming glass sideways at 5,400 mph (2km/s), whipping all in a sickening spiral. It’s death by a million cuts on this slasher planet!

Homosexual Behavior Among Fish Increases Attractiveness to Females
By SciTechDaily

    Yaoi Has Been Proven Scientifically


    fucking. fujoshi ass fish


    Ok, but guys, I need you to know about the Ruff Bird, I love them.

    So in most harem species you get two types of males. Territorial males and Satellite males. Territorial males acquire and protect the harem, Satellite males hang out on the edges of territories and sneak mate with the females.

    The Ruff Bird's territorial males have noticed they get bigger harems if they ignore the satellite males for... Some reason. Couldn't imagine. But that's not all.

    The Faedra Male is a third type. They look almost exactly like females and, dig this, are super bi. The girls go crazy for them, and the guys... Well they've noticed that when they bang the twink they get more chicks. In more ways than one.

    I love my slutty bi twink bird.

    A scorpion, not knowing how to swim, asked a frog to carry it across the river. “Do I look like a fool?” said the frog. “You’d sting me if I let you on my back!”

    “Be logical,” said the scorpion. “If I stung you I’d certainly drown myself.”

    “That’s true,” the frog acknowledged. “Climb aboard, then!” But no sooner than they were halfway across the river, the scorpion stung the frog, and they both began to thrash and drown. “Why on earth did you do that?” the frog said morosely. “Now we’re both going to die.” 

    “I can’t help it,” said the scorpion. “It’s my nature.”


    …But no sooner than they were halfway across the river, the frog felt a subtle motion on its back, and in a panic dived deep beneath the rushing waters, leaving the scorpion to drown.

    “It was going to sting me anyway,” muttered the frog, emerging on the other side of the river. “It was inevitable. You all knew it. Everyone knows what those scorpions are like. It was self-defense.”


    …But no sooner had they cast off from the bank, the frog felt the tip of a stinger pressed lightly against the back of its neck. “What do you think you’re doing?” said the frog.

    “Just a precaution,” said the scorpion. “I cannot sting you without drowning. And now, you cannot drown me without being stung. Fair’s fair, isn’t it?”

    They swam in silence to the other end of the river, where the scorpion climbed off, leaving the frog fuming.

    “After the kindness I showed you!” said the frog. “And you threatened to kill me in return?”

    “Kindness?” said the scorpion. “To only invite me on your back after you knew I was defenseless, unable to use my tail without killing myself? My dear frog, I only treated you as I was treated. Your kindness was as poisoned as a scorpion’s sting.”


    …“Just a precaution,” said the scorpion. “I cannot sting you without drowning. And now, you cannot drown me without being stung. Fair’s fair, isn’t it?”

    “You have a point,” the frog acknowledged. “But once we get to dry land, couldn’t you sting me then without repercussion?”

    “All I want is to cross the river safely,” said the scorpion. “Once I’m on the other side I would gladly let you be.”

    “But I would have to trust you on that,” said the frog. “While you’re pressing a stinger to my neck. By ferrying you to land I’d be be giving up the one deterrent I hold over you.”

    “But by the same logic, I can’t possibly withdraw my stinger while we’re still over water,” the scorpion protested.

    The frog paused in the middle of the river, treading water. “So, I suppose we’re at an impasse.”

    The river rushed around them. The scorpion’s stinger twitched against the frog’s unbroken skin. “I suppose so,” the scorpion said.


    A scorpion, not knowing how to swim, asked a frog to carry it across the river. “Absolutely not!” said the frog, and dived beneath the waters, and so none of them learned anything.


    A scorpion, being unable to swim, asked a turtle (as in the original Persian version of the fable) to carry it across the river. The turtle readily agreed, and allowed the scorpion aboard its shell. Halfway across, the scorpion gave in to its nature and stung, but failed to penetrate the turtle’s thick shell. The turtle, swimming placidly, failed to notice.

    They reached the other side of the river, and parted ways as friends.


    …Halfway across, the scorpion gave in to its nature and stung, but failed to penetrate the turtle’s thick shell.

    The turtle, hearing the tap of the scorpion’s sting, was offended at the scorpion’s ungratefulness. Thankfully, having been granted the powers to both defend itself and to punish evil, the turtle sank beneath the waters and drowned the scorpion out of principle.


    A scorpion, not knowing how to swim, asked a frog to carry it across the river. “Do I look like a fool?” sneered the frog. “You’d sting me if I let you on my back.”

    The scorpion pleaded earnestly. “Do you think so little of me? Please, I must cross the river. What would I gain from stinging you? I would only end up drowning myself!”

    “That’s true,” the frog acknowledged. “Even a scorpion knows to look out for its own skin. Climb aboard, then!”

    But as they forged through the rushing waters, the scorpion grew worried. This frog thinks me a ruthless killer, it thought. Would it not be justified in throwing me off now and ridding the world of me? Why else would it agree to this? Every jostle made the scorpion more and more anxious, until the frog surged forward with a particularly large splash, and in panic the scorpion lashed out with its stinger.

    “I knew it,” snarled the frog, as they both thrashed and drowned. “A scorpion cannot change its nature.”


    A scorpion, not knowing how to swim, asked a frog to carry it across the river. The frog agreed, but no sooner than they were halfway across the scorpion stung the frog, and they both began to thrash and drown.

    “I’ve only myself to blame,” sighed the frog, as they both sank beneath the waters. “You, you’re a scorpion, I couldn’t have expected anything better. But I knew better, and yet I went against my judgement! And now I’ve doomed us both!”

    “You couldn’t help it,” said the scorpion mildly. “It’s your nature.” 


    …“Why on earth did you do that?” the frog said morosely. “Now we’re both going to die.”

    “Alas, I was of two natures,” said the scorpion. “One said to gratefully ride your back across the river, and the other said to sting you where you stood. And so both fought, and neither won.” It smiled wistfully. “Ah, it would be nice to be just one thing, wouldn’t it? Unadulterated in nature. Without the capacity for conflict or regret.”


    “By the way,” said the frog, as they swam, “I’ve been meaning to ask: What’s on the other side of the river?”

    “It’s the journey,” said the scorpion. “Not the destination.”


    …“What’s on the other side of anything?” said the scorpion. “A new beginning.”


    …”Another scorpion to mate with,” said the scorpion. “And more prey to kill, and more living bodies to poison, and a forthcoming lineage of cruelties that you will be culpable in.”


    …”Nothing we will live to see, I fear,” said the scorpion. “Already the currents are growing stronger, and the river seems like it shall swallow us both. We surge forward, and the shoreline recedes. But does that mean our striving was in vain?”


    “I love you,” said the scorpion.

    The frog glanced upward. “Do you?”

    “Absolutely. Can you imagine the fear of drowning? Of course not. You’re a frog. Might as well be scared of breathing air. And yet here I am, clinging to your back, as the waters rage around us. Isn’t that love? Isn’t that trust? Isn’t that necessity? I could not kill you without killing myself. Are we not inseparable in this?”

    The frog swam on, the both of them silent.


    “I’m so tired,” murmured the frog eventually. “How much further to the other side? I don’t know how long we’ve been swimming. I’ve been treading water. And it’s getting so very dark.”

    “Shh,” the scorpion said. “Don’t be afraid.”

    The frog’s legs kicked out weakly. “How long has it been? We’re lost. We’re lost! We’re doomed to be cast about the waters forever. There is no land. There’s nothing on the other side, don’t you see!”

    “Shh, shh,” said the scorpion. “My venom is a hallucinogenic. Beneath its surface, the river is endlessly deep, its currents carrying many things.” 

    “You - You’ve killed us both,” said the frog, and began to laugh deliriously. “Is this - is this what it’s like to drown?” 

    “We’ve killed each other,” said the scorpion soothingly. “My venom in my glands now pulsing through your veins, the waters of your birthing pool suffusing my lungs. We are engulfing each other now, drowning in each other. I am breathless. Do you feel it? Do you feel my sting pierced through your heart?”

    “What a foolish thing to do,” murmured the frog. “No logic. No logic to it at all.”

    “We couldn’t help it,” whispered the scorpion. “It’s our natures. Why else does anything in the world happen? Because we were made for this from birth, darling, every moment inexplicable and inevitable. What a crazy thing it is to fall in love, and yet - It’s all our fault! We are both blameless. We’re together now, darling. It couldn’t have happened any other way.”


    “It’s funny,” said the frog. “I can’t say that I trust you, really. Or that I even think very much of you and that nasty little stinger of yours to begin with. But I’m doing this for you regardless. It’s strange, isn’t it? It’s strange. Why would I do this? I want to help you, want to go out of my way to help you. I let you climb right onto my back! Now, whyever would I go and do a foolish thing like that?”


    A scorpion, not knowing how to swim, asked a frog to carry it across the river. “Do I look like a fool?” said the frog. “You’d sting me if I let you on my back!”

    “Be logical,” said the scorpion. “If I stung you I’d certainly drown myself.”  

    “That’s true,” the frog acknowledged. “Come aboard, then!” But no sooner had the scorpion mounted the frog’s back than it began to sting, repeatedly, while still safely on the river’s bank.

    The frog groaned, thrashing weakly as the venom coursed through its veins, beginning to liquefy its flesh. “Ah,” it muttered. “For some reason I never considered this possibility.”

    “Because you were never scared of me,” the scorpion whispered in its ear. “You were never scared of dying. In a past life you wore a shell and sat in judgement. And then you were reborn: soft-skinned, swift, unburdened, as new and vulnerable as a child, moving anew through a world of children. How could anyone ever be cruel, you thought, seeing the precariousness of it all?” The scorpion bowed its head and drank. “How could anyone kill you without killing themselves?”


    Being a mom and an anarchist and trying to figure out the whole "parenting" song and dance from that perspective makes me think 8-year-olds have about got it figured out. I hate school. I hate tests. I hate bedtime.


    No like here’s the thing: children are an oppressed class. I mean that 100% sincerely. Children m are an oppressed class. They quite literally do not have the right to be free human beings.

    Reposting from my twitter here, but: you wouldn't prevent an adult from speaking to their friend or eating when they were hungry. In your personal life that's abusive behavior, in the work sphere a suppression of workers' rights. Other places these rights are violated include: prison.

    In Education and Peace, Maria Montessori describes the culture of war and identifies it as originating, on a personal level, in the struggle between the adult and the child that begins as soon as the child is born. This is the very first conflict. The adult subjects the child to their own wants and needs and completely disregards the needs, development and personhood of the child. This struggle continues throughout childhood, between both parents and children and other adults and children:

    “Both the adult and the child are unaware of their own characteristic natures. They fight one another in a secret struggle that has gone on for countless generations and is becoming more violent today in our complicated and nerve-racking culture. The adult defeats the child; and once the child reaches adulthood the characteristic signs of the peace that is only an aftermath of war—destruction on one hand and painful adjustment on the other—remain with him for the rest of his life.”

    This conflict positions children and adults relative to each other as two distinct classes, one with power and one without. Of course, there are other conflicts at play here—race is a huge one, gender another. And that’s not to say children can’t have power over parents, etc. But one of the most fundamental class conflicts is between adults and children.

    Children exist in a state of war from day one. Their environment is completely unsuitable to them; they’re treated as if that’s their fault. They’ve literally been alive for less than a decade. Any action they take is done as a result of class conflict.


    I vibe so hard w/ this


    I work in childcare and multiple parents have been MYSTIFIED that I’m able to handle their “difficult” children (this includes both neurodivergent children and children who are just rude/mean/violent) and it’s impossible to get them to understand that 90% of the average kid’s behaviour “problems” are just frustration at having a lack of autonomy in their own lives. Some kids do have complicated problems, yes, but so many parents are confused by perfectly understandable reactions! Of course your child is acting out; they have no self-determination or right to their own resources and it’s the only avenue they have left to assert themselves! Of course your child just yelled at you and stormed off -- you were just bullying them! I heard you doing it! They were responding extremely reasonably to being bullied!

    I swear half the people in this world -- including those who live with these kids 24-7 -- somehow manage to forget or conveniently ignore that kids are, in fact, people, and will act like people in response to situations.


    there is no reason a child should not be able to eat when theyre hungry and not eat things they dislike. if they dont like vegetables then teach them how to make it a way they do like. if you wouldnt yell at and hit your grandparents for not finishing their plate why would you do that to a child. they learn from you, not from what goes through your head while you punish them.


    I gotta say the notes on this post have been really heartening b/c "Children are people and not property" has historically been one of my more controversial opinions


    For the record, people absolutely do treat elders that way. It reinforces your point, though, because bullying Grandma to eat her broccoli is called what it actually is: elder abuse.

    That said, one of the greatest mindfucks in my entire life that I needed to utilize my cultural ownership of my daughter, the idea that I own her and she is my property and therefore I am the final sole arbiter of all things with her, to defend and protect her right to self-determination vis-a-vis her transition as a teenager. Literally at one point I had to use it to bar my relatives from insisting on deadnaming her, or even speaking to her until they could respect her chosen name and pronouns. (I can't make them respect her identity, but I could tell them "you can't talk to her unless you address her as she asks to be addressed, and you agree not to say anything negative to her or in her earshot about her transition, her gender, any of it."

    It was the only thing they respected. They didn't respect her, they only respected it when I said it, and when I threatened to use that power to withhold her from them, because I owned her in their minds.


    Radical childcare person here. I wholeheartedly agree with all this, and just want to add a few more resources to the conversation.

    The Child and Its Enemies, Emma Goldman


    Reggio Emilia is a teaching method developed after WWII and Mussolini's fascist regime in order to both benefit children and prevent the rise of future fascists. 


    And then there’s Adventure Playgrounds, Play Theory, and Loose Parts.