Show & Tell

#extradirty

Kaledo Art
tumblr dot com
Stranger Things
Mike Driver
taylor price
Three Goblin Art
h
RMH
art blog(derogatory)
YOU ARE THE REASON
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
we're not kids anymore.
Sade Olutola
Keni

Product Placement

shark vs the universe
hello vonnie
almost home
seen from United States
seen from South Korea
seen from South Korea
seen from United States
seen from T1

seen from United States

seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from T1
seen from Canada

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Ghana
@goodnightsweeteternity
Mary Oliver, Long Life: Essays and Other Writings
Suffer does the Wolf, Crawling to Thee.
Bela Lugosi smoking on the set of Dracula 1931
from “The Crane Wife” by C.J. Hauser, published in The Paris Review
Obsessed with the very concept of mech pilots having handlers; and specifically the usage of the term. They aren't a navigator or support, they're a handler. Mech pilots may be unparalleled agents of war on the battlefield, but they're raw, uncontrolled. A pilot needs a handler to point it to what to shoot, because otherwise they just don't know what to do. Brains so melted by their training, overwhelmed by neural linking, that they need a voice they can latch onto and follow unconditionally. An unconditional obedience that carries over outside their mechs, where they're oh so weak and broken. Where the veil comes down and the true power dynamic reveals itself. A tool that follows orders without thinking, and the one who wields them.
So many people reblogging this but "this but horny"; yes, that's explicitly the point. They are fucking. Handlers use pilots like objects because they're physically unable to even consider disobedience anymore. Pilots are trained to connect violence, their handler's voice, and pleasure, so they get the same rush from the confirmed impact of a dozen missiles on marked targets as they do when their handler shoves their fingers down their throat and knees them in the stomach. It's hard to even call it a Dom/sub relationship because subs have agency, pilots are the disassociated onboard targeting systems of death machines who make cute noises when you use them for your own pleasure.
Bill Paxton in Near Dark (1987).
The Color of Pomegranates (1969). Directed By: Sergei Parajanov
anteprima f/w 2006
Wisława Szymborska, tr. by Clare Cavanagh and Stanisław Barańczak, from “Soliloquy for Cassandra”, Map: Collected and Last Poems
Late train home (OC)
10/5
Tom Mead, Disassociate 6, 2023
Oil and acrylic on aluminum, 40 x 30 in
Ew dude gross, don't put your faith in me, I don't know where it's been.
Juria le Roux - Consequence, 2022