hello vonnie
Jules of Nature
gracie abrams
bliss lane
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almost home
Monterey Bay Aquarium
will byers stan first human second
Cosmic Funnies
One Nice Bug Per Day
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
$LAYYYTER
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Game of Thrones Daily
official daine visual archive
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Not today Justin
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Today's Document
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@pencildragons
That’s this
Goes to show how little I know
The really crazy part is the Twitter post is the original and the tumblr post is the one that's plagiarized
Net zero info ass post
We literally can see in both the screenshots that the tumblr post was posted first (also evilvillain123456789 lies recreationally, constantly) why are y'all so bad at fact-checking literally anything
I get in theory why people complain about het ships or whatever, I get wanting to watch queer media I really do, but I guess where y’all lose me is like. I saw some asshole on a post about Sinners complaining it was “hetslop”—this person was specifically doing so while also claiming Remmick was a queer character and thus they were justified in caring more about him than the Black protagonists. which is a whole other disgusting can of worms that has been well addressed by others at this point. but even in the absence of that part of the argument, like, no, i actually don’t think that a hunger for queer stories is an especially good excuse to deride and dismiss a piece of landmark Black filmmaking, especially as a non-Black person. I have a post that’s been going around encouraging folks to engage with more Native stories and characters, and I had someone come onto that post saying in the tags that they’d need these stories to be queer in order to care. and I just think that, you know, sucks! like obviously as a queer Native I also want to see more of those stories too. but idk how else to put it other than to say that Black people and people of color shouldn’t have to be like you in order for you to care about our narratives and experiences. and I think some of y’all are using this disdain for heterosexuality as a cover for your unexamined racial biases. it’s not okay to be racist to people just because those people happen to be straight, and you continue to be white before you are queer.
on an even more basic level than that, also, I simply just think some of y’all NEED to learn how to interact with media and storytelling without ships and fandom in mind. like if not being able to write fic about two men kissing is genuinely going to be a dealbreaker for you I think that’s actually something you need to work on within yourself because at that point I think you’re no longer really interacting with art and themes and narrative so much as just kind of playing with toys. which is, like, fine I guess. have fun. but it wouldn’t kill you to disengage from that from time to time. especially if would allow you to actually appreciate rich and deeply moving cultural stories from communities of color that you desperately need to learn how to see as human
Intelligent alien species based on bugs but specifically those moths that don’t have mouths and only live for a week after they pupate. This species’ whole conscious life is actually in the larval phase; larvae are the ones considered people, larvae are the ones with conscious and complex brains who build society, and each instar of the larva is treated as a different phase of life. Larvae become emotionally and socially and cognitively mature without ever becoming sexually mature. When they pupate, they metamorphose into something different and strange and close to mindless, with no mouth and no digestive system, whose only instincts are to mate and then quickly die. Metamorphosis is treated, functionally, like a person’s death, and the imago phase is a kind of proto-afterlife of majestic flight and the continuation of the species. Birth and death inextricably intertwined. Sex is not something people do during their lives, it’s a thing that is done as an imago after you’ve passed on from your life but before you return to the soil in death. Resultant eggs are collected by family members to raise. I think this would be fun.
It's my cat's birthday (anniversary of me getting him) so I told him the story of his life while petting him real good
Highlights include:
For your first two years (when you were small) you lived in a foster home with people who raised you into a very polite young man. Two is like you plus me, that's what two is.
Some people adopted you before me and they called you Timmy (which is a stupid name) and they returned your ass almost immediately because you were so annoying at that age.
Like think about how annoying you are right now at seven years old, but way worse.
I'm better than them though, I don't call you Timmy and I wore earplugs to bed for three years because you love to scream at bedtime. Earplugs are like when I roll over and go back to sleep even when you are yelling so so so loud.
I got you at a time in my life when I was really sick (being sick is like when I'm up late because I'm throwing up and you are a very handsome good boy who sits with me) and they had to put me asleep for a procedure. A procedure is like what happened to you when they put you asleep and took your balls away.
Now you've lived with me for five years. Five is like the number of toe beans on one of your feet. When I clip your nails five is when we're halfway done. But we're hopefully not even halfway done with how long we get to be together. I'm gonna have to figure out new ways to help you count.
Actually I've decided this is a poem
breakfast from when before i eated it
okay. here is my breakfast from before time began
Every now and again I remember that golf courses exist and the red mist of rage descends over me like herakles in battle
A vote for me is a vote to publicly execute 10 golfers every tuesday and thursday
Stay engaged.
to anyone in the areas impacted by the wildfire smoke, my #1 biggest piece of advice as someone whos been dealing with wildfire smoke in the NW united states for years, is build yourself a Corsi-Rosenthal Cube
they perform as well as expensive HEPA air cleaners, and are comparatively VERY inexpensive. all you need is a box fan, 4 air filters, a piece of cardboard, and some duct tape!!!!
i think it took us maybe a half hour to put ours together, if that, and we replace the filters every 3 months. it's really made a HUGE difference, both when the air quality is bad, but also with our allergies
Saw these easy to read instructions on Twitter. Stay safe 💚
Also just a handy, DIY air filter in general, if a bit bulky. For a less bulky and cheaper (but also less effective) solution, you can simply tape one filter to the fan, cut a shroud if you'd like.
just FYI, this is quite literally what the climate scientists at my work who specialized in wildfire smoke impacts recommend. it works great, it's cheap to make, and it will make a noticeable impact on your air quality.
i have asthma & keep one of these running in my room perpetually. after I set it up the difference in my sleep quality was pretty much night and day. Dont waste your time on proprietary air filters; SIMPLY bust out the duct tape
This is true but I'm gonna be controversial for a second and say that I feel bad for jocks who get hit with The Injury™️too. The Injury™️ fucking sucks, man. Having something that everyone praised you for when you were young suddenly betray you and having to grapple with both a sudden loss of ability (whether it's something that can be recovered from or not) and figure out what your future looks like now that the one you had imagined for yourself (whether it was actually realistic or not) feels like it's been snatched away is brutal.
Yeah, like, maybe we shouldn't be shaming/making fun of people for either of these things!
Everyone’s favorite Mon Calamarian angel baby Bant! One of my number one Star Wars blorbos who DOES NOT get enough recognition. I have so many ideas and headcanons about her and how it was never explicitly said she died during order 66.
I took major inspiration from @blueberry-ry and motivation from my sister @thats-ee for her padawan braid, and it was so much fun!!
Insane to me that disabled people will say: "Hey, your glorified idea of revolution is going to get us killed" and then be treated as collateral damage or a necessary sacrifice. Like, yeah, the systems in place now are oppressive and literally based on eugenics, but a Revolution™️is not going to save us. How are we supposed to trust you (abled people) to put good systems in place if you're ready to kill us to get rid of the old one. That's not saving people. Treating disabled people as if they're ridiculous for not wanting to die and pointing out how bad a revolution would be for us is insane. You're actually a horrible person if you do this.
I don't know, folks, I'm just so fucking tired of us disabled people either being ignored or told to shut up. We're treated as worthless and expendable. I'm not dying for your Great Revolution™️. I need my meds.
This is what I said! A revolution needs to save everyone or we save no one. Lives aren’t expendable.
Collins is gone.
Namaygoosisagagun First Nation/Collins has burned to the ground. The entire community is nothing but ashes after being quickly consumed by wildfires. They did not have any support from emergency services, and no one offered aid. The community saved themselves by escaping into boats because no one came.
Mishkeegogamang and Cat Lake have lost power. Families are ending up in shelters with nothing. Armstrong, Lac La Croix, Whitesand, Gull Bay, Lac des Mille Lacs are currently in the fires path and all members are being evacuated.
All this loss, all this devastation, and it was entirely preventable.
After steadily underfunding wildland firefighting and purposefully excluding Indigenous wildland firefighters and Indigenous wildfire organizations from wildfire operations, firefighter training, decisionmaking, and resource exchanges, in 2025, Doug Ford slashed the forest firefighting budget.
It's hard to ignore his decision to cut funding and leave us out of adequate fire training (even though we've lived with forest fires for thousands of years—far longer than settlers have been in Canada—and made sure fires like the ones we're all seeing today were prevented through kinisitotēn) when, despite making up less than 5% of the population, we account for 42% percent of all wildfire evacuations in Canada.
And when we are successfully evacuated, we face discrimination and racism—like Kashechewan—because it's always been easier to blame us than it is to blame the true culprit: denialism, corportate greed, and colonization.
The people of Collins and every other impacted community deserve better.
Right now, the AFN is currently accepting donations to help Collins First Nation. If you're able to, please consider donating.
ONWA (Ontario Native Women's Association) is another great place to donate to. They have outreach vans going to motels and inns and offering food, water, resources, and cultural support to those impacted by the wildfires.
Other places to consider donating to are Mikinakoos Emergency Fund, Red Cross, True North Aid, Indigenous Climate Action. You can also send donations directly to Whitesand First Nation via e-transfer ([email protected]) and they request that you add your full name in the e-transfer comment section to receive a tax receipt.
*Before sending money, verify that the appeal appears on an official First Nation, Tribal Council or registered charity channel.
If you can't offer financial support, please consider donating items of need. Moontime Connections is currently accepting drop-off donations. If you live in the Thunder Bay area, Namaygoosisagagun Health Office is also taking in donations! They can also bemailed to Superior Inn Hotel & Conference Centre at 555 West Arthur Street, Thunder Bay, ON, P7E 5P8.
items needed are: food, diapers, medical masks, men’s and women’s joggers (all sizes), children’s clothing (newborn to size 14), children’s shoes, summer clothing, men’s clothing, toiletries (lotion, Vaseline, toothpaste, toothbrushes, shampoo, conditioner, soap, deodorant, etc.), strollers, adult depends-all sizes, dog & cat food
wīya ispīh iyiniw-kiskīyihtamowin pasikōpayiki kāwi askiy ta-iyihyīmakan
I actually do think that the cannibal incest spiders in my next book will have universal appeal
what are u gonna do if someone tries to cancel you over it
there is simply no way this could happen
okay expanding on this though: The Ignoble Invasion of Prince Proculo has multiple first person POVs, and I REALLY wanted each one to feel immediately distinct, because I'd just had an experience reading a book where I didn't realize I was in a new head until halfway through the chapter, and it pissed me off real bad.
I solved this by switching genres for each POV. so when you're with Protactinium-231, it's a rom-com. things are bouncy and mostly fun. but when you're with Tantalus? it's a gothic horror. he's stuck in a wheel of abuse, in a temple deep underground, where his ancient mother prunes her brood. this is where the cannibal incest comes in. but there is one shard of hope: the Elder Gods seek to rise again, and in doing so, they will spread their curse, eliminating the humans who keep his family trapped in their own filth!
and then there's Fidelgard (the last POV) who's in a more traditional politics-oriented fantasy. she alone seems to understand that the other two are bringing in their own contradictory genres, and she is SO fed up with it all.
anyway, this might result in tonal whiplash! or it might be fun. we'll see.
Fidelgard is my favourite character. she was barely supposed to be in the book initially, but she ended up taking over the entire plot and changing the grande finale. my original idea was: what if Protactinium had a straight man to follow him around and go “oh no!!!” every time he did something stupid. and it’d be better if they looked fussy, so what if they had super intricate medieval clothing and a Beatles bowl-cut. then for some reason (I didn’t make her do this) Fidelgard became extremely violent and skinned a man, and I realized she was the coolest person in the world. and that’s how the book became the Fidelgard show
(my very good drawing of her)
I actually do think that the cannibal incest spiders in my next book will have universal appeal
what are u gonna do if someone tries to cancel you over it
there is simply no way this could happen
okay expanding on this though: The Ignoble Invasion of Prince Proculo has multiple first person POVs, and I REALLY wanted each one to feel immediately distinct, because I'd just had an experience reading a book where I didn't realize I was in a new head until halfway through the chapter, and it pissed me off real bad.
I solved this by switching genres for each POV. so when you're with Protactinium-231, it's a rom-com. things are bouncy and mostly fun. but when you're with Tantalus? it's a gothic horror. he's stuck in a wheel of abuse, in a temple deep underground, where his ancient mother prunes her brood. this is where the cannibal incest comes in. but there is one shard of hope: the Elder Gods seek to rise again, and in doing so, they will spread their curse, eliminating the humans who keep his family trapped in their own filth!
and then there's Fidelgard (the last POV) who's in a more traditional politics-oriented fantasy. she alone seems to understand that the other two are bringing in their own contradictory genres, and she is SO fed up with it all.
anyway, this might result in tonal whiplash! or it might be fun. we'll see.
Fidelgard is my favourite character. she was barely supposed to be in the book initially, but she ended up taking over the entire plot and changing the grande finale. my original idea was: what if Protactinium had a straight man to follow him around and go “oh no!!!” every time he did something stupid. and it’d be better if they looked fussy, so what if they had super intricate medieval clothing and a Beatles bowl-cut. then for some reason (I didn’t make her do this) Fidelgard became extremely violent and skinned a man, and I realized she was the coolest person in the world. and that’s how the book became the Fidelgard show
(my very good drawing of her)
From Anishinabek Nation:
The Anishinabek Nation stands in solidarity with Namaygoosisagagun First Nation, which has experienced devastation from the recent wildfires, displacing all citizens from their homes and community.
In the spirit of Ngo Dwe Waangazid Anishinaabe (One Anishinaabe Family), the Anishinabek Nation is accepting donations on behalf of Namaygoosisagagun First Nation to help the community navigate through this crisis. If you are able to, please donate via e-transfer to: [email protected]
Donations can also be made by credit card through PayPal or Canada Helps with further information at https://an7gc.ca/donate/
100% of donations are dedicated to supporting Namaygoosisagagun emergency response and community recovery efforts.
Other ways to help:
Share this post to spread this message
Offer thoughts and prayers of healing for those affected by the wildfires
Reach out to surrounding food banks and inquire what support they require (i.e., food, feminine products, essential supplies, clothing, shelter, etc.)
“There was only one bed” but they’ve been sharing single beds for so long they don’t have a concept of personal space anymore
Julian Alfred Pankratz, master of the seven liberal arts
The seven liberal arts: seven subjects from classical antiquity believed to be the foundation of wisdom and moral excellence.
Grammar, or the structural constraints of language
“And so cried the witcher, he can’t be bleat?” Geralt’s nose scrunches up. “What is that even supposed to mean?”
“It’s evocative,” Jaskier objects, pouting.
“It’s bloody nonsense,” Geralt grouses.
Jaskier scoffs. Geralt never did understand imagery.
Rhetoric, or the art of persuasion through words
“Toss a coin to your witcher, o valley of plenty!”
Jaskier is bored to tears with this gods-forsaken song and Geralt has always hated it. All the same, Jaskier makes a point of singing it at every tavern he stops in because by the end of the chorus his lute case is always heavy with coin.
And gods know they could both use a hot bath and a good meal.
Logic, or reasoned argumentation between opposing viewpoints
The barkeep’s face pulls into a sneer the moment he catches sight of Geralt. “We don’t want your type in here,” he snarls.
“Your type?” Jaskier’s eyes narrow to angry slits. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”
“You know what I mean,” the barkeep spits. “He’s barely human.”
“Why don’t you go fuck yourself?” Jaskier bellows, launching himself bodily over the bar.
Before his hands can close satisfyingly around the smug arsehole’s throat, however, he is brought up short by a firm grip around the back of his neck.
“Not now, Jaskier,” Geralt grumbles, hauling him away from the bar and out into the street.
Arithmetic, or the study of numbers
“Well.” Jaskier empties his coin purse onto the inn table. “I’ve got five Orens, a lot of fluff and, for some reason, a single Mariborian crown.”
Geralt grimaces. “I’ve got seven Orens from that drowner contract last week.”
“Looks like we’ll be sharing a bed tonight then.” Jaskier shrugs. It’s a simple matter of economy. And if he isn’t exactly opposed to the idea, no one needs to know.
Geralt’s face does something which isn’t strictly a smile. “Fine. But if you get fidgety in the night, I’m lying on you.”
Jaskier isn’t exactly opposed to that, either.
Geometry, or the properties of shape, size, and distance
“Love is like a pear,” Jaskier muses, tapping his quill against his lips.
Geralt doesn’t look up from sharpening his swords.
“A pear is sweet and has a distinct shape,” Jaskier expounds, warming up to his theme. And then the flourish of genius: “Try to define the shape of a pear.”
Geralt grunts. “It’s fucking pear shaped, Jaskier.”
Alas, the depths of Jaskier’s artistic musings are entirely lost on his current audience.
Music, or the arrangement of sounds into pleasing forms
Geralt twitches, his skin sickly white, his eyes blown wide and surrounded by black veins but seeing nothing. Jaskier has cleaned his wounds as best he can, and now there is nothing left for either of them to do but wait for the potions’ effects to run their course.
It’s always like this after a difficult hunt, and Jaskier has learned both how he can assist and the limitations of what help he can provide. He settles Geralt on a bedroll and draws a blanket over him, then grabs his lute and perches on a nearby tree stump.
He plays quietly, barely more than tapping against the strings, creating a gentle melody which undulates back and forth like the swell of waves onto a calm shore.
The lullaby drifts through the night, soft and soothing, and some of the tension seems to seep from Geralt’s jaw as he drifts off to sleep.
Astronomy, or the study of heavenly bodies
“That’s the Hunter, right there.” Jaskier points to the seven-star constellation visible to the east. “And there,” he moves his hand across the sky toward the west, “there’s his prey, the Stag.”
“An endless pursuit,” Geralt says, voice softened by the impressive quantity of mead they’d worked through. He shuffles closer, resting his head on Jaskier’s thigh as they stare up at the clear sky and its blanket of stars above. “Always linked yet forever held at a distance.”
Jaskier unthinkingly cards his fingers through Geralt’s hair. It must be the warmth of the summer evening, or maybe all that mead, but Geralt doesn’t pull away. Instead he hums, quiet and relaxed.
“I like to think they’ll meet one day,” Jaskier says, hovering perilously close to veracity. “They’ll be together eventually.” Geralt’s hair weaves silver bands around his fingers. “When the stars align.”
