A compilation of my magical ocean-themed illustrations - all of these and more are available as prints until Nov 26th in my store here!
Jules of Nature

Discoholic 🪩
trying on a metaphor

@theartofmadeline
No title available

Love Begins

roma★
No title available
Game of Thrones Daily
Monterey Bay Aquarium

izzy's playlists!
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
i don't do bad sauce passes
Show & Tell
$LAYYYTER
Misplaced Lens Cap
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
h
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
styofa doing anything

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Belgium

seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Germany

seen from Singapore

seen from Saudi Arabia

seen from Germany
seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States
seen from Algeria
seen from United States
seen from Spain
seen from Canada

seen from United States
seen from Norway
seen from United States
seen from Poland
seen from Switzerland
@totouchastraeus
A compilation of my magical ocean-themed illustrations - all of these and more are available as prints until Nov 26th in my store here!
every single fossil was once a living thing that lived its own life. isnt that fucking insane. you'll never comprehend what it was like to be a cotylorhynchus in the marshes of early permian texas
Abandoned Places by Larry Tracchini
ocean vuong talking about how he/him pronouns make him feel and how his gender is... literally so fucking true shout out to that guy he gets it
this from the paris review + his poem "beautiful short loser"
[Image ID: two screenshots of the linked paris review article titled "Reimagining Masculinity":
Years later, in another life, before giving a reading, the organizer asked me for my preferred pronouns. I never knew I had a choice. “He/him” I said, after a pause, suddenly unsure. But I felt a door had opened—if only slightly—and through it I had glimpsed a path I had not known existed. There was a way out.
But what if I don’t want to leave this room yet, but just make it bigger? Pronouns like they/them are, to my trans friends and family, a refuge—a destination secured through flight and self-agency. They/them pronouns allow an interface where one can quickly code oneself as nonnormative, in the hopes of bypassing the pain and awkwardness of explanation or the labor of legibility when simply existing can be exhausting. Would I, by changing pronouns, appropriate myself into a space others need in order to survive?
As a war refugee, I know how vital a foothold as small as a word can be. And since as a cis-presenting male, I don’t need to flee he-ness in order to be seen as myself, I will stay here. Can the walls of masculinity, set up so long ago through decrees of death and conquest, be breached, broken, recast—even healed? I am, in other words, invested in troubling he-ness. I want to complicate, expand, and change it by being inside it. And I am here for the very reasons why I feel, on bad days, I should leave it altogether: that I don’t recognize myself within its dominant ranks—but I believe it can grow to hold me better. Perhaps one day, masculinity might become so myriad, so malleable, it no longer needs a fixed border to recognize itself. It might not need to be itself at all. I wonder if that, too, is the queering of a space? I wonder if boys can ever bandage each other’s feet, in friendship, without a password...
End ID.]
Shoutout to the breakers of generational curses
And let’s not forget this gem
mittens
POV: you just moved to a new country and an enthusiastic classmate walks you through the morning routine
The children have gone feral and I love it.
growing up as a millenial in europe looking at the us like WTF SOMEBODY CALL THE FIRE BRIGADE and now gen z is like hold our beers. same same but different over here tbh
A lot of people ask me what my biggest fear is, or what scares me most. And I know they expect an answer like heights, or closed spaces, or people dressed like animals, but how do I tell them that when I was 17 I took a class called Relationships For Life and I learned that most people fall out of love for the same reasons they fell in it. That their lover’s once endearing stubbornness has now become refusal to compromise and their one track mind is now immaturity and their bad habits that you once adored is now money down the drain. Their spontaneity becomes reckless and irresponsible and their feet up on your dash is no longer sexy, just another distraction in your busy life. Nothing saddens and scares me like the thought that I can become ugly to someone who once thought all the stars were in my eyes.
this fucks me up every single time
I never expected this to be my most popular poem out of the hundreds I’ve written. I was extremely bitter and sad when I wrote this and I left out the most beautiful part of that class.
After my teacher introduced us to this theory, she asked us, “is love a feeling? Or is it a choice?” We were all a bunch of teenagers. Naturally we said it was a feeling. She said that if we clung to that belief, we’d never have a lasting relationship of any sort.
She made us interview a dozen adults who were or had been married and we asked them about their marriages and why it lasted or why it failed. At the end, I asked every single person if love was an emotion or a choice.
Everybody said that it was a choice. It was a conscious commitment. It was something you choose to make work every day with a person who has chosen the same thing. They all said that at one point in their marriage, the “feeling of love” had vanished or faded and they weren’t happy. They said feelings are always changing and you cannot build something that will last on such a shaky foundation.
The married ones said that when things were bad, they chose to open the communication, chose to identify what broke and how to fix it, and chose to recreate something worth falling in love with.
The divorced ones said they chose to walk away.
Ever since that class, since that project, I never looked at relationships the same way. I understood why arranged marriages were successful. I discovered the difference in feelings and commitments. I’ve never gone for the person who makes my heart flutter or my head spin. I’ve chosen the people who were committed to choosing me, dedicated to finding something to adore even on the ugliest days.
I no longer fear the day someone who swore I was their universe can no longer see the stars in my eyes as long as they still choose to look until they find them again.
My new grindcore band Assassination Coordinates
terrifying and incomprehensible to the human mind?
be not afraid
μὴ φοβεῖσθε *blinks in plastic*
Tanaka Ryohei 田中良平 Orange Tree
Davidson Galleries
Cottage garden by Georgianna Lane