[pancakesandhalibut]

A quick study based off one of Zelda's memories from Breath of the Wild.

Edited the lighting a bit in the second version

[altcomics]

[mollyjames]

Whenever I see an ad with people living in a house I automatically excuse myself from the experience. These people have house money. You expect me to afford the same product as people with house money? Laughable. Return at once, and tell the algorithm that sent you to try better.

[sananaryon]

Ads really should be treated like emisarries from rival lords.

[mollyjames]

I see here you've come to tell of an electronic service which, for a monthly fee, will read aloud to me literature from across the globe. And you say it shall provide me the fist tome free as a token of goodwill. A generous offer, or so it would appear, save for the fact that such a service is readily available to me publicly online and at my local library. Ah, you were hoping perhaps I was not aware of such resources? Begone, you slinking devil! Such trickery will not be tolerated in the house of James.

[prose-n-scripts]

so I go to animation school now

[calico-and-lace]

please unmute this

[dazzleyourmindseye]

That was… not what I expected it to be but I am delighted

[puffsaddy]

[papapiusxiii]

From Leonard Cohen’s final letter to his dying muse, Marianne Ihlen. She died in July 2016, and Cohen followed her shortly after, dying in November 2016.

“Well Marianne it’s come to this time when we are really so old and our bodies are falling apart and I think I will follow you very soon. Know that I am so close behind you that if you stretch out your hand, I think you can reach mine. And you know that I’ve always loved you for your beauty and your wisdom, but I don’t need to say anything more about that because you know all about that. But now, I just want to wish you a very good journey. Goodbye old friend. Endless love, see you down the road.”

— Leonard Cohen

[curseworm]

actually i never experience negative consequences due to procrastination. i am occasionally blighted by god for unknowable reasons though

[softgrlfriend]

the fact that I have to be in the “right headspace” to do even the simplest tasks. absolutely humiliating

[proustiansleep]

[werecat]

[image text:

(I am absent because I am the teller. Only the tale is real.)]

[undeadpirate]

i’ve only ever seen this picture cropped to orlando holding the lizard… which is cute don’t get me wrong but i like this even more. Examining a little lizard is a group activity

[eldritchscholar]

#lizard contemplation

[weedass]

woke up and turned over and there was a roach next to me.... wtf did we do last night....?

[mr-freezo-42069-inactive]

how dare you make me read this

[leitharstjarna]

— Laura Gilpin, The Hocus-Pocus of the Universe (1977)

[starlightthroughbrokenglass]

[ID: Four photos or scans of a poem titled A Toast to the Alchemists. The pictures are cropped so that the text is almost taking up the entire image. Behind the poem one can see the text on the back of the page shine through. The poem reads:

A Toast to the Alchemists

Alchmists, you were right, it is possible. We have the proof now. There are equations.

If you could come back for a day, if you could conjure yourself into this chemistry classroom, if you could read the textbook or watch the professor writing the answers on the board…

Alchemists, you would see that you were right, even though you didn’t know about alpha and beta radiation, even though you didn’t understand isotopes, you knew it was possible, that some elements can change into other elements, that transmutation can occur.

Alchemists, there is proof now that it is possible, although each new element, having a brief half-life, would keep changing into other things.

Alchemists, you were right, you can make anything, anything, uranium, plutonium, tel- lurium, mercury, copper, cobalt, platinum, silver, and gold, you can make gold, an isotope so radioactive it would sparkle before your eyes.

Alchemists, you were right. It is magic.

/end ID]

[lesbiansuns-deactivated20220627]

So true random letterboxd user

[191195-deactivated20240210]

"Notice how the possibility of joy always starts with vulnerability. Don’t try to think about the future when you’re feeling depressed or defensive. Consider the future only when your heart is wide open. And when it is? Meditate on what you love and enjoy the most. Make room for fragility and sadness and grief. Clear out some space for mystery, for your body’s weird urges, for fantasy, for art, for music, for a future that vastly outstrips the defeated truisms of older people who never really figured out how to feel free. You’re not going to be like that. You’re not on a rocket ship aimed straight at the sun. You’re on a path to freedom and deeply felt connection. You have all the time in the world, and a world full of friends to make. Believe it."

askpolly

[essplode]

A world full of friends to make

[boazpriestly]

[the2headedcalf-archive]

You know that Ada Limón poem where she’s like “i can’t help it i love the way men love”? my dad recently confessed to me that he became a shoemaker because they buried my grandma shoeless

oh.......................................

[urlocalchangeling]

Accident Report in the Tall, Tall Weeds - Ada Limón

[firstgrave]

[ID:

“When the plane went down in San Francisco, I thought of my friend M. He’s obsessed with plane crashes.

He memorizes the wrecked metal details, the clear cool skies cut by black scars of smoke.

Once, while driving, he told me about all the crashes: The one in blue Kentucky, in yellow Iowa.

How people go on, and how people don’t.

It was almost a year before I learned that his brother was a pilot.

I can’t help it, I love the way men love.”

The final line is highlighted in yellow. /End ID]

[cithaerons]

Leila Chatti, Portrait of the Illness as Nightmare

[typodescript]

[text ID: Your god comes and he is ordinary and terrible. end ID]

[cheruehai-deactivated20241207]

“If you had seen him and not known you would have thought him utterly nondescript; but you could not look at him and not know. Terrible divinity clung to his skin.” (Harrow the Ninth, Tamsyn Muir)

[orpheuslament]

Introduction to Simone Weil's Waiting for God, by Leslie A. Fiedler