馬仔

attain nevada

[fouryearsofshades]

zongzi shape purse for the duanwu festival

[medievaljournalist]

so you know that cursed sword that slowly drives whoever wields it mad & causes mysterious illnesses? you guessed it: scabbard was absolutely loaded with black mold

[femmenietzsche]

I like how from the perspective of a follower someone getting their life together to the point that they no longer post is exactly indistinguishable from them getting killed by a gas explosion

[dambiex]

i used to publish papers with her but she took et al in the divorce

[clonerightsagenda]

When I was at the natural history museum, the fossil section had stickers on the glass to engage children - things like "Flap your arms like a pterodactyl" or "Measure your hand against the mosasaurus." However the first of these I encountered, which I found alarming and threatening without context, was a sticker reading "Struggle like you are stuck in a tar pit"

[clonerightsagenda]

I feel like more bright colors, an exclamation mark, or a more whimsical font choice would've also helped here to indicate that it is a Fun Activity For Children. Instead it felt like getting instructed in my inevitable fate by a road sign

[antoniabishop]

red salem

[bathylychnops]

i love running on WET BRICKS!!

clip for bigger project iwant to make

[currentlycryingaboutlancelot]

“i have of late lost all my mirth” should be a valid reason not to come in to work

[iheartvelma]

WFH today due to the pestilent congregation of vapours, etc

[heartsl0b]

laundry lounge

[sashayed]

Hesitation Theory

I drift into the sound of wind, how small my life must be to fit into his palm like that, holly leaf, bluejay feather, milkweed fluff, pin straw or sycamore pod, resembling scraps of light. The world slips through these fingers so easily, there’s so much to miss: the sociable bones linked up in supple rows, mineral seams just under the skin. I hold my palm against the sun and don’t see palm or sun, don’t hold anything in either hand. I look up, look away (what’s that?), I trip and stumble (fall again), find myself face down in duff, a foam of fallen live oak leaves, with only this life, mine at times.

Reginald Shepherd (1963-2008) Fata Morgana, 2007

[arcadebroke]

北千住にて

[sarakipin]

So excited to announce and soft launch my graphic novel I’ve been working on! The character of Neuro was originally invented for a TTRPG back in 2020 and has since been reincarnated into a separate narrative that I wanted to tell for quite some time. Animation work has kept it on the back burner, but I’ve been slowly chipping away at it! I’ll soon be launching a new Patreon dedicated to the project and will keep you all updated once that’s ready! I’m so excited! 🌱🤖

First image is some of the new character designs and all other images are from 2020-2022 💚

[dovesick]

various types of pigeons

[communistkenobi]

sometimes when I get mad online I have remind myself that the coolest and most reasonable friend I have doesn’t know who dril is and asked me to explain what the acronym “MCU” stands for, because she spends most of her free time watching documentaries about industrial disasters with her girlfriend and going to quarries to collect rocks together. a better world is possible and it’s out there right now

[prokopetz]

Tabletop RPG designed around a group structure with exactly two GMs, one of whom always tells the truth and one of whom always lies.

[alexasharpe-art]

Beware the beast 🩸

[sashayed]

Springtime in the Rockies, Lichen

All these years I overlooked them in the racket of the rest, this symbiotic splash of plant and fungus feeding on rock, on sun, a little moisture, air — tiny acid-factories dissolving salt from living rocks and eating them. Here they are, blooming! Trail rock, talus and scree, all dusted with it: rust, ivory, brilliant yellow-green, and cliffs like murals! Huge panels streaked and patched, quietly with shooting-stars and lupine at the base. Closer, with the glass, a city of cups! Clumps of mushrooms and where do the plants begin? Why are they doing this? In this big sky and all around me peaks & the melting glaciers, why am I made to kneel and peer at Tiny? These are the stamps of the final envelope. How can the poisons reach them? In such thin air, how can they care for the loss of a million breaths? What, possibly, could make their ground more bare? Let it all die. The hushed globe will wait and wait for what is now so small and slow to open it again. As now, indeed, it opens it again, this scentless velvet, crumbler-of-the-rocks, this Lichen!

Lew Welch (1926-1971) in Ring of Bone, posthumous, 1973