ic blog for my oc, jack “aries” palmer, unkillable man and proof that there is no loving or merciful god. follows back from @taxman-talkman
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One Nice Bug Per Day
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Jules of Nature

ellievsbear
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

★
occasionally subtle
Sweet Seals For You, Always
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
hello vonnie
i don't do bad sauce passes
ojovivo

Kaledo Art
d e v o n

roma★
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Monterey Bay Aquarium
dirt enthusiast
AnasAbdin
Sade Olutola
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@alpha--arietis
ic blog for my oc, jack “aries” palmer, unkillable man and proof that there is no loving or merciful god. follows back from @taxman-talkman
home | rules | about
"IS THIS THE DEATH OF ART?" Well art has died before. Art died in both the 1980s and 1940s. Art died in the industrial revolution. Art died when they invented the printing press. Art died when we stopped painting on cave walls. Art died when you, personally, stopped finger painting. You can absolutely be a hater though that's part of it
Garfunkel's still alive moron
Art Garfunkel has been trapped in an unending cycle of death and rebirth for ten thousand years
never let anyone get to you. live on a mountain top and just keep pushing climbers down.with your hands
dominating people out and about
are we joining cults on the dash
okay bar fight last night annnnnnd so liiiiiike. it wasn’t my fault (likely to start a fight) or tag’s fault (even more likely to start a fight)
everyone is always fighting and hurting each other. i will put an end to this through conquest and subjugation
i didn’t know i could hit someone that hard. felt good
i didn’t realize i could just THROW a guy
bar fight and i won but still a bar fight
anyways fundamental difference between being human and some vague other thing is basically negligible because an untuned piano still pisses the fuck out of me and i am now just straight up tuning it myself. no one is happy about this
shitty old piano in the bar making me insane
[alpha—arietis has uploaded a photo!]
[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: A man stands in front of a mirror in some dingy truck stop bathroom. The sink is slightly rusted and the selfie had caught a sink mid-drip. The tile behind him must have been white at some point but was now had a yellow, faded look. The grout cracked, the tile itself faded. Graffiti in the corner of the mirror read a random number and CALL TO BE SAVED in the corner.]
[Aries is smiling in the picture. His hair is a little longer, dark and curly. His clothing is faded, worn, used. He has a hat pulled low over his face, obscuring most of his brow. But he seems happy. Happier, at least. His teeth are a little… sharp-looking. He’s a little unshaven. His sideburns have grown out a little more. But there’s nothing about his appearance that might suggest he had literally been living in a hole for the last year and a half. One hand is curled awkwardly at his hip and the other is wrapped around his phone.]
[Maybe the most off-putting aspect about the picture is that the man pictures doesn’t have eyes.]
[Not literally, of course. There are eyes where they should be on his face. There are eyes there. And there aren’t. It’s like some kind of mirage. Staring hard into the distance and seeing maybe the flicker of the surface of water but getting closer and seeing, no, that’s just miles and miles of sand. There are eyes. Look closer. There are no eyes. This man had eyes once. He might have given the impression of a friendly and slightly off man initially. But look again. There are no eyes.]
[It’s like looking at a picture of something devoid of all context. Like looking at something much larger.]
[It’s Aries. A man with dark hair and a hat pulled low over his eyes. He’s slightly scruffy. His eyes are dark brown.]
Send my muse “👀 + a question” and they’ll have to answer with 100% honesty.
No deleting questions, either!
like it’s literally all a performance at the end of the day right
Saying I want a hot goth woman to step on me not because I want that to happen, but because I want other people to see me as the sort of person that receives sexual attention from this hyperreal sexual commodity version of goth women.
Guy who says he wants to fuck the shadows on the cave wall. He does want to fuck the shadows, but he mainly wants the other cave people to see him as the type of wacko who fucks shadows.
Guy who gets a half chub from female shadows but full mast whenever someone calls him a shadowfucker.
Who cares about the thing casting the shadows; the point of the sex is to impress the other prisoners anyhow
We can literally only ever fuck images and ideas
[completely misunderstood the story] I always interpreted it as a sort of found family narrative myself. Like the frog is the scorpion's baby and she loves him very much :)