No title available

ellievsbear
Acquired Stardust

JBB: An Artblog!

Origami Around

blake kathryn
Misplaced Lens Cap

pixel skylines
styofa doing anything

Kiana Khansmith
RMH

No title available
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
almost home

oozey mess
🪼
One Nice Bug Per Day

#extradirty
wallacepolsom
Xuebing Du
seen from India
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Italy

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States

seen from Türkiye

seen from Singapore

seen from Malaysia

seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from Germany

seen from United Arab Emirates

seen from Hong Kong SAR China

seen from Malaysia
seen from Germany

seen from United Arab Emirates
@0xo
well maybe you should blearily wake up at 5:08 in the pre-dawn light and find the sleeping soft tiny mammal body of your cat just inches from your head like a miracle too beautiful for speech, and you should rustle one hand out from your blankets to rub fingertip circles across the warm eggshell dome of her little velvet-wrapped skull and on the bristly patches just where the cups of her ears begin, and as she inclines her head into your fingers and purrs without ever opening her little eyes you should feel a love so tender that you understand how that love could have reached out from the fireside into the inky spangled nights long gone to reach her, and then you'll feel better
i am at a complete loss as to how to adequately express to you how much this cat throws up yeah
the journal factory exploded
i think something in my social wiring was either never developed or got broken at a really young age because i. am so scared of friendship, people, being perceived, being remembered. i want those things but they also terrify me. i want desperately to be close to other people but i feel always like im behind six inches of glass emotionally. or if i feel good in a social setting, i second guess everything i did or said immediately after. i keep studying and trying to learn how to be Good and none of it sticks.
i don't know if anyone likes me as much as i like them. i feel constantly like there's a part of me that's deeply corrupted and inherently unlovable, that must be seeping through and making it so that i can't feel close or understood, and that maybe that's the good and natural order of things - for me specifically to be incomprehensible, because if someone did fully know and understand me, they would be rightfully repulsed, and that outright rejection would hurt so much more than the ever-present disconnect.
i think this probably has something to do with my upbringing. and i also know logically that thinking you're uniquely unlovable is actually just another form of thinking you're special. it's just as self-centered to think you're the worst as it is to think you're the best. i know that! logically, i do! knowing that doesn't make me stop feeling like i'm the worst though. it just makes me feel guilty for having feelings at all
i am grateful and mostly happy to be alive. but as another year passes for me, i keep wondering if this is how i feel forever, in every downswing, in every moment i'm not occupied. having friends feels like they're getting a bad deal, being saddled with "entertaining" me and my particular neuroses. i don't know how to reach out and it feels often like it's better for other people if i don't. i feel like i need to be helpful, or if not helpful then at least not inconvenient, and i don't much know how to see myself as not inconvenient.
it just gets easier to sink. i keep telling myself i'm going to be more socially proactive, talk to people, and then i don't because - everything! the fear eats me! the compulsion to not bother people! i don't even know where to begin. and it's making me a piss-poor friend because i'm not there.
i can't be afraid all the time. it doesn't work it just doesn't. but i feel so lonely and it is largely my own doing. but even with a crowd i feel lonely. at the shows when everyone talks to each other and i'm just looking around, trying to talk to people, and the conversation never really starts because - it just doesn't? i don't know what it is. i feel like they can all tell something is wrong with me.
idk im just. sad sometimes. i don't know if i'm wired correctly to be social even though it's what i want so badly.
If you don’t like rice then idk man get well soon I guess
all the bitches in the notes saying that rice sucks need to remember that rice backwards is ecir which means absolutely nothing. just like their opinion
“A coalition of organizations that work with marginalized communities in Lebanon such as migrant workers are raising funds to provide support and assistance (food, medical supplies, pads, diapers) to the various communities. Please share and donate.”
EMERGENCY RESPONSE COALITION: VOICES OF THE UNSEEN As the indiscriminate attacks in Lebanon continue with over 120,000 (Statistics by OCHA)
As of June 2026, Voices of the Unseen are still raising money.
March 2026 update:
Campaign Story: Starting at 42,000 USD (raised in the last war), Voices of the Unseen begins again.... Following the devastating events of 1 March, 2026, and the subsequent heavy bombardment of Beirut’s southern suburbs and South Lebanon in the early hours of 2 March, we are witnessing a terrifyingly familiar cycle of violence. At least 31 people have been martyred and 149 wounded in just the last few hours. Thousands more fleeing their homes under new evacuation orders. The recent escalation has pushed Lebanon back to the brink of a full scale war.
In 2024, we saw firsthand the systemic failure of the state. As bombs fell, the state offered no safety net for those most vulnerable:
Migrant Workers: Still trapped under the Kafala system a form of modern day slavery, many are being abandoned by employers fleeing the violence, left without papers or safe passage.
Syrian Refugees: Already displaced by over a decade of war, we are once again facing the trauma of being uprooted with nowhere left to run.
Palestinians: Facing an ongoing struggle for survival as the violence in Lebanon mirrors the aggression they have endured for 78 years.
Marginalised Lebanese: Families in the South, Bekaa, and Beirut are losing their livelihoods and homes, watching their society be torn apart once more.
When the state failed, organisers from these communities built critical safety nets. This was done with your help. Last year, we raised $42,000 (USD) that went directly to community organisers from these communities. Now, we must do it again. Our current efforts are being channelled through a core group of trusted community groups: Tres Marias, Reman, Syrian Eyes and DoWAN. We are building community led solutions to a systemic collapse. We are calling for immediate financial and in kind donations to support emergency housing, healthcare access and basic survival needs.
The video game history foundation has just finished scanning every copy of the neopets magazine and added it to their archive. Super cool!
It might be a little silly, but Neopets Magazine is an important slice of a different part of gaming culture.
During its four-year run, Neopets Magazine covered the latest news and strategies for the influential 2000s-era web game. It also had a lot of articles about Neopets merchandise and trading cards. In fact, it’s mostly ads for Neopets products. Or long articles about Neopets lore. At best, it is mostly an off-topic magazine. So why did we focus on this magazine of our archive? Simple: it’s about the game’s audience. Neopets was, arguably, the defining girl game of the 2000s. An entire microgeneration of girls got their start in the world of digital entertainment by raising virtual pets and playing Flash games to get Neopoints. [...] Notably, many of the magazine’s articles are about creativity and customization. There’s shades in here of the gameplay styles that have become more popular in the last decade with the rise of cozy games and farming sims. My favorite quirk of Neopets Magazine is in the audience survey that came with some issues. In one survey question, they asked whether readers bought this magazine at a clothing store! That would have reached a completely different audience than we usually associate with game magazines. Can you imagine PC Gamer being sold at a Charlotte Russe? The point is that Neopets The Official Magazine represents a different slice of gaming culture, one that we know matters to researchers and to our extended community.
Jonathan Joss was an Indigenous, gay man who was murdered on the first day of Pride month as well as Indigenous History Month. He died protecting his trans husband. Homophobia and racism aren’t marks of the past, and this is a heart breaking reminder of that.
Praying for a safe journey back to the spirit world, Uncle ❤️🩹🦅
Today is the anniversary of the death of Jonathan Joss (King of the Hill, Parks and Rec). Jonathan Joss was an Indigenous, gay man who died protecting his transgender husband, on the first day of Pride month. Today we remember him and how he protected his family.
Pride Month Reminder:
T4T does not, nor has it ever meant, exclusively transfem for transfem.
It's *just* trans 4 trans
What kind of trans does NOT matter. It's all t4t
totally agree also #shout out to these comments . please
Leafling Bandana
Find the pattern here
This designer is delightfully fairycore, and should definitely be checked out for whimsy
Just learned about Bull Press, a tabletop publisher that focuses on games that are prison compliant (no hardcover, no dice, no maps), and their catalogue seems sick as hell. Def gonna pick smth up when I get paid next. They do a lot of donation work with books for prisoners programs!
As mentioned, Bull Press donate playbooks to prisons out of their own pocket. If you know somebody in prison you'd like to refer to receive books, you can email them with requests.
and if you want to support them:
direct donation
patreon
merch (their shirt designs are sick as hell)
you'll feel like a total dipshit train wreck and no matter what some girl is gonna see you and think "role model". you can't kill yourself you have to go be clocky in the gas station so a 14 year old can have the trajectory of her life altered forever
as annoying as it is to work fast food, at my previous job one time a kid recognized the theta delta pin on my hat and was so fucking excited because i was the first other therian they had ever encountered offline.
"hey....are you a therian?" "yeah!" "what kind of animal?" "eh, some kinda dog" "😲😀 im like a wolf coyote hybrid" "that's fuckin awesome"
to be weird is to cast lifelines all around you
tags from @k1ntsug1-r0b0t-g1rl
what really drives me nuts is that like. this happens an average of x times per year as a visibly weird person, but we only get made aware of it a small fraction of the time. you can't kill yourself you have to be clocky in the gas station.
Being clocky when i was working as a barista was one of my big joys. Being clocky when i was teaching high schoolers how to play the marimba was my reason for being for half a decade. It sucks how scared I am to leave the house I live in now. But I still need to try and be clocky at the grocery store. I wish i had a job to be clocky at. Being visibly me is one of the most radical acts I'm capable of, and I hope that one day we live in a world where it isn't radical at all.
that's exactly what I was feeling when I wrote this. we all find ways to defy our fear, love is an excellent motivator.
birthday today........ going thrifting with sister and then ??? i didn't plan anything but let's see where the day goes!
CONNIE PANZARINO at a pride march in Boston circa 1990
[ID: Connie is marching along in her sip 'n' puff (SNP) wheelchair. She is wearing a patterned poncho and sporting a green felt party crown on her head. She styles a pair of wire-rimmed glasses with her slicked back hair. She is smiling. Attached to the back of her wheelchair is a large green cardboard poster that reads "Trached Dykes Eat Pussy Without Comin' Up For Air!" followed by a pink upside-down triangle with a stick figure person in a wheelchair at the centre (a symbol for disabled women)].
the cyborg & the crip by Alison Kafer
[ID: “Trached dykes eat pussy without coming up for air.” Connie Panzarino, a longtime disability activist and out lesbian, would attach this sign to her wheelchair during Pride marches in Boston in the early 1990s. Shockingly explicit, her sign refuses to cast technology as cold, distancing, or disembodied/disembodying, presenting it instead as a source and site of embodied pleasure. “Trach” is an abbreviation of tracheotomy, a medical procedure in which a breathing tube is inserted directly into the trachea, bypassing the mouth and nose. Someone with a trach, then, can, in effect, breathe through her throat, freeing her mouth for other activities (another version of this sign is “Trached dykes french kiss without coming up for air”). From a cyborgian perspective, this sign is brilliantly provocative and productive. It draws on the pervasive idea that adaptive technologies grant superior abilities,not merely replacing a lost capacity but enhancing it, yet it does so in a highly subversive way. The message here isn’t about blending in, about passing as normal or hypernormal, but about publicly announcing the viability of a queer disabled location. It’s disnormalizing, adamantly refusing compulsory heterosexuality, compulsory able bodiedness, and homonormativity. As Corbett O’Toole argues, it challenges the perceived passivity of disabled women, presenting them as actively pleasuring their partners, thereby graphically refuting stereotypes linking physical disability with nonsexuality.]
this is going around twitter rn but im also super curious: please tell me your top four comfort movies that you’re always down to watch bc my friend thinks mine are ridiculous and now we’ve realised everyone’s version of “comfort” is hilariously different
Every day I handle more money than I will ever make. Every day.
At the start of my employment, my boss showed me videos of people stealing, and we both had a chuckle about it. How silly they were! There was a camera overhead, and it’s not to watch the shoppers. See, we can’t actually stop shoplifters. They get away with it maybe nine out of ten times. But we, who are watched and tallied and witnessed? We are always caught.
At first it was hard to hold one hundred dollars bills. An amount I had never seen before. An amount that didn’t exist in my household. It’s normal now. Here is something that is not for me.
“What the hell, I’ll take another,” says the man, pondering our 200 dollar watches. What the hell. Total comes to 580 and not even a flinch in his face. I have been working for 11 hours today and made only 110 dollars. It will go to my rent. Today I work for free, it feels. When I get my check, I will have 35 dollars left for food and saving.
The six hundreds he hands me go into the cash register. For a moment, I imagine having money. Then I put it away, counting out his change.
I know for a fact we sell our products for double what they are worth. That I could be making commission. That they could hand me those 580 dollars and change my life and not even mark the difference in their checkbooks. He’s not the only sale they make today, but I am the reason they made it. He’s not the only one spending 600 dollars, but if I hadn’t spent two hours with him telling me about his life, he wouldn’t have spent any. I go home. I don’t own a watch.
I have watched and rewatched a video on how to make salmon four ways. My shopping list is always the same. Pasta. Rice. Tuna. If I can afford butter it was a good week. I dream of the world I will never walk in, where I can throw the best fish fillet in the cart with a shrug. I hold hundreds in my hand and look up at the camera. I put them under the cash drawer.
I go to work. I scrap together my savings. I eat my bowl of rice slowly. My manager takes a paid week off from work just for his birthday. He owns a yacht.
I’m not worth the cost of a watch.
i wrote this while i was working at orlando’s walt disney world parks.
i was part of their college program. i moved to the state for it. they legally owned the building i was living in and still charged me rent. i ostensibly was being charged to work for them. it was a 2 bedroom apartment and they placed 6 adult women in it in forced triples.
as many as one in ten disney employees have experienced homelessness while working for the company. despite huge efforts to unionize, strike, or otherwise demand fair treatment; disney has refused to increase employee quality of life.
disney admits publicly that a good portion of their success is because the employees (“cast members”) are dedicated, passionate, and selfless. this is never reflected in pay. even “face” characters (ie those that are princesses etc) make barely above a minimum wage.
at the time that i worked there, i made $8.50 an hour. at one point i was asked to create a human shield around a bag because a bomb dog had alerted to it. for eight fucking dollars an hour.
i now work a very cushy office job. i have bought the salmon and cooked it all four ways.
i go to the store. i am nice to the person behind the counter. she looks up at the camera while she counts out my change. there is nothing fundamentally different about her and i.
we are both worth more than the watch, anyway.
People love natives in such a superficial way. People wanna stand with natives when we’re talking about the trees, and the land. People wanna stand with natives when we talk about philosophies of love and togetherness. But as soon as it’s time to talk about political side of being native. About dismantling a system built on the genocide of our people. About how we need a new system that isn’t built upon capital gain and benefitting white bodies. About putting up a fight. About how the colonial state we reside in is a disgusting imperial plague on this land. Suddenly y’all don’t wanna talk native.
"They spent hundreds of years trying to assimilate my ancestors, trying to create indians like me, who could blend in, but now they don’t want me either. They can’t make up their minds.
They want buckskin and face paint, drumming, songs in languages they can’t understand recorded for them but with English subtitles, of course. They want educated, well spoken, but not too smart. Christian, well behaved, never question. They want to learn the history of the people, but not the ones that are here now, waving signs in their faces, asking them for clean drinking water, asking them why their women are going missing, asking them why their land is being ruined.
They want fantastical stories of Indians that used to roam this land. They want my culture behind glass in a museum.
But they don’t want me." -Shelby Lisk