apéritif
ref: zendaya on vogue brasil
insta • twt • bsky
Xuebing Du
One Nice Bug Per Day
Sweet Seals For You, Always

tannertan36
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

Kaledo Art
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Andulka
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
trying on a metaphor
Jules of Nature

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Show & Tell
YOU ARE THE REASON
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
occasionally subtle

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

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No title available
todays bird
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@sweetenberries
apéritif
ref: zendaya on vogue brasil
insta • twt • bsky
letd go eat parts of that guys car
Caught Up On My Stories BTW. Handling It
I just love love love that there’s a guy wandering about Dungeon Meshi going, ‘but what are the socioeconomic and geopolitical consequences of this fantasy quest adventure, both while it’s ongoing and after its inevitable completion?! The skillset required to find and kill a Mad Mage is different than that required to responsibly, benevolently and effectively rule a kingdom. I personally must either find a good candidate, somehow make one, or, most likely, take on the whole Mageslayer/King role myself.” Except he doesn’t have the first skillset, and his whole party keeps dying while these highly competent chucklefucks wander past, kill and eat the monster, and save their bodies for the nth time. Kabru would demand to know if Aragorn is familiar with Gondorin tax law. His isekai energy is off the charts, because this is all exactly what I would do if dropped into a fantasy quest adventure, right down to repeatedly dying due to not actually being suited to the genre conventions.
every day it just concerns me how little compassion people have. no compassion for those living in the global south. no compassion for immigrants. no compassion for disabled ppl. no compassion for addicts. no compassion for prisoners. no compassion for children. like holy shit ...
i made a separate post about this but actually there are plenty of people cough white people who care about animals more than they ever do human people . not what i'm talking about make your own post
love arranged marriage unfortunately. the idea of being married to a knight who's not even in the city, but away on the front lines. it's a benefit for your family, so they dont even question sending you to his home to await his return...
you meet him three months into the arrangement. He arrives after the sun has already set, his features set strong in the candlelight. His body is heavy with exhaustion and tension, his eyes dull and tired.
you've grown to hate this place, this castle gifted to him for war victories. The halls are barren, the garden yet to bloom. The maids are pleasant, but they keep their distance, as if you'll strike. Maybe your husband is the kind to hit. You wouldn't know.
When he looks at you, it's only in short bursts, his eyes suddenly low. There's a long stretch of silence between you and you consider introducing yourself, but decide against it. He knows who you are.
"The maid is drawing me a bath," he says suddenly and a sick feeling pours over you. This day was always coming, but you aren't sure you're ready to lay under a stranger.
"Am I expected to join?" you ask and his nose crinkles.
"No." He steps back and away. His departure is brisk and driven. You retire for the night by yourself and awake alone. Your husband is set to leave again in a few hours; a few soldiers have already gathered in the front garden.
"Don't you wish to give your new wife a goodbye?" one asks, unaware of your open window. "One night and you've already had your fill? Or has she been filled too much?"
"I refuse to believe she is real!" says another. "What kind of woman has worn down our brute and turned him into a family man? Should we expect a gaggle of children in the upcoming year?"
Your husband growls. "You will leave the poor lamb alone. She suffers enough."
That softens you. Just a bit. You rise from you bed and go to the window, leaning out enough to catch the men's attention.
"Until next time."
He watches you, expression caught between more emotions that you can count, then turns his gaze back to his mount. The two men share a look, wide, wide grins on their faces.
"Until next time," he repeats back.
In his absence, he sends gifts. They are tiny things, sweets and oiled combs and scented oils and a porcelain figure of a cat, aimless in their direction towards you. Just simple niceties he could give to any woman in the world. You imagine he sends one to the lovers he has in every city as well.
(he must have lovers, you imagine. He hasn't touched you; he must be getting his fill with women in other cities, maybe women he actually loves. these are trinkets to keep his wife amused while she wastes away.)
none of the gifts come with a note.
one day a bolt of fabric arrives, yellow and ornate. It's only a small amount, not enough to make a dress, but enough for you to unravel and admire. It's beautiful and clearly expensive, golden threads woven into flowers and vines. Your father was a silk merchant; while you never wore the silks, you can recognize their quality.
the following week, the delicious man rides up on his steeds and presents a letter. The handwriting is rough. Knights that come from the lower class do not have the schooling of highborns; as fair as you know, your husband was born a street rat and worked his way theough the ranks to glory.
-I have been told by my secund that I did not send you enuf fabric for a gown. I do not no these things.
The spelling mistakes screw a smile out of you.
"Wait a moment." You stop the boy before he can leave. "I wish to send something back."
You take your time and use your finest calligraphy, tucking your note in with a handkerchief you had spent the week on. It's fine work-- one that would please even the hardest of hearts.
-Dearest husband,
Please take this handkerchief as a sign of my thoughts.
Your patient and thoughtful wife
A second letter arrives within the week.
-are you cros with me? A scrap of fabric for a scrap of fabric?
The response is what makes you cross. The poor messenger boy has to stay the night while you percolate over a response.
-Dearest, sweetest husband,
A handkerchief is a traditional gesture of affection. I have embroidered the edges by hand, with your last name and your roses, and it smells of my perfume. It is a piece of me for you to carry. If you do not appreciate my kindness or if you think it will turn away your lovers, you may return it. I do not wish it wasted on you.
Your less than patient and less than adoring wife
The poor boy scatters off in the morning and returns a few days later.
tortured wife,
I wil cherish it. I am sory, pour lam. I wil do better.
your loving husband
aloof unapproachable frigid ice queens with inarticulable desires
i would like if something horrible and invasive was happening to him and his boundaries were violated and he was uncomfortable and scared
when the characters never really make peace with it
never do any sort of collaborative storytelling with your friends youll get addicted for life
The Hollow Vessel 🩸 [oc]
Probably my biggest artwork in recent years. Lucian and his burden as a medium.
"the great laws" of the vampires that are used as the formal legal justification the paris coven uses for their lynching literally have a clause about not turning disabled people or people who need care into vampires. the trial script literally calls claudia a "cripple" and the entire alleged justification for why a 14-year-old black child should've been left to die from her injuries in a race riot, why her entire existence past the age of 14 is supposed to be a "mistake" that needs correcting, is bc saving her life would mean she'd have a stunted child's body and her body would cause her anguish, which can be read as an allegory for people who survive serious physical trauma having permanent disabilities. and despite all that it's still underlined that claudia was a greater vampire than either louis or lestat or any member of the paris kkkoven, that she wasn't a mistake and she wasn't inherently doomed or fated to kill herself. she's literally kidnapped in s2ep6 when she's on the precipice of true freedom and happiness and self-actualization, finally living a life separate from her adopted parents, ready to travel the world with her chosen partner. but bc she's a black woman in a black child's body and seen as unfit to live by vampire society for being a "cripple", bc she stepped ~out of line~ and transgressed normative racist hierarchies and hierarchies of vampiric power by (almost) killing her white maker, bc she broke every cycle of abuse she was born or adopted into and freed herself, she's tortured, publicly humiliated and murdered before she reaches age 50. i know claudia is based on anne's daughter who died of cancer and narratively speaking she was always "meant to die"- but from an in-universe pov, from the logic of the story she inhabits and how her character is written on the show, there's nothing destined or doomed or inevitable about claudia's death. the fact that she dared to survive past age 14 despite the limits of her body isn't an inherent tragedy, and the fact that she didn't survive past age 46 wasn't mercy. claudia's murdered, brutally and unjustly, and her life is cut short bc of the intersection of violent misogynoir and ableism that's taken the lives of so many other black women before their time
CW: Indigenous murder and violence
Hi, all. I can't truly ever call any pride month a "happy" pride but may you have one nonetheless or let this be whatever kind of space and time you need it to be.
In particular, I want to take the time to spotlight and give my respects to Jonathan Joss.
It's been one year today and right at the start of pride month no less.
If you don't know, Joss is an Indigenous two-spirit man murdered one year ago. A society that supports homophobia, transphobia, and anti-Indigenous racism is designed to produce such an outcome and continues to for many others.
There's also a very ableist component given how many dismissed the ongoing violence he and his family were subjected to as just being "mentally unwell" or some equivalent. Disabled, mad, mentally unwell, etc. people don't deserve to be murdered or isolated. Period.
In particular, to any of the Indigenous queer people I'm in community with, I hope you can always feel welcome here and have space for grief today especially.
If you'd like more information and coverage on everything that happened to Joss and his family:
A Two Spirit Indigenous Man was brutally murdered. And mainstream media has already forgotten about it.
You may also consider some literature from an Indigenous perspective:
Indigenous Men and Masculinities Legacies, Identities, Regeneration (Robert Alexander Innes, Kim Anderson)
Making Space for Indigenous Feminism (Gina Starblanket)
It's okay if you're 22 and still sleep with a stuffed animal it's called having the cuddlers spirit and it's actually what gets you into heaven
HOW TO START (2026)
image transcriptions under the cut
How to Start by rthwrms
for the times when you really truly want to do something, but find resistance or that starting feels impossible
most helpful action to get into a task is: look at it options include: review what you've already done open the tab on screen blur your eyes at first if that helps fullscreen the image browse or skim relevant texts let your gaze move around how it will JUST...LOOK!!!
Your brain has resistance towards starting the particular project in the way that you've previously conceived of it. Instead of fighting that resistance, try to change your approach to starting your work. Ie, start with colored pencils on a piece you were doing in gouache, include a new stitch in a crochet piece, Step one: identify the process Step two: identify places where something new can be included Step three: brainstorm new options to fill these spots Step four: select one or more options and try your piece from this new angle
encourage yourself by asking questions start with: "What am I actually trying to do right now?" then try: "What would this look like if it were more fun?" "How would I do it if anything was possible?"
divide into discrete tasks make the closest or shiniest one literally as small & specific as freaking possible
image text: I BELIEVE IN YOU screenshot text: The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper. W.B. Yeats (via billowy)
there is a window now there is a door
// end post transcription
btw i love when dubcon is used in fiction as a way to explore characters. i love when characters don’t understand how to “properly” ask for consent because they have never had their consent respected in their lives. i love when traumatized adult characters make potentially unwise choices about what to do with their bodies because they have the autonomy to do so. i love when characters make choices that i personally wouldn’t make, but i can totally understand how they got there. i love when characters have complex, fucked up, unhealthy dynamics, but still care about each other and want to do better. i love when writers trust audience members to read between the lines instead of spoon feeding them moral lessons. i love when characters are allowed to actually fuck up and have mistakes to learn from!