(nods sagely) (nods basily) (nods rosemarily) (nods saltly) (nods star anisely)
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Three Goblin Art

oozey mess
trying on a metaphor
NASA
occasionally subtle

titsay
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
AnasAbdin

#extradirty
Cosmic Funnies
Keni
almost home
Acquired Stardust
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

Discoholic 🪩

pixel skylines
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Mike Driver
art blog(derogatory)

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@theaceace
(nods sagely) (nods basily) (nods rosemarily) (nods saltly) (nods star anisely)

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project hail mary is a touching and poignant film that leaves you asking questions about humanity like, "wow what if all mainstream media was genuinely good" and "what if book adaptions actually gave a shit about the book in question" and "what if studios hired actors that could actually act, and then let them get a lil wacky with it"
#Don’t forget ‘what if puppetry was treated as a serious artform’ (via @specialagentartemis)
beam me up scotty (beam me up inside) can’t beam up (beam me up inside)
scrapped painting,, thought i might as well post it
i want to put my thoughts behind this: this was supposed to be a piece for pride month, titled "you were loved". the sky is the color of the aroace flag (just upside down)!
basically, i wanted to show an aroace person — an old aroace person, to be precise. being aroace myself, i am always told that i will forever be lonely and miserable if i don't get a partner. so showing grace, who is aroace to me, as old and happy and fulfilled and oh so loved by his best friend, was really important to me <3
The WWD'25 T. rex has a very specific energy...

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Red Dwarf + Project Hail Mary
joking about this idea on the train after my second viewing of project hail mary felt correct
grace is like rocky be honest am i too clingy? and rocky is like grace i would mind meld with you if i could.
well the thing is that's an extremely reasonable concern
"what is this BABY doing in space!???"
-Rocky, probably

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"impulse buy" (noun) anything I have been low-key thinking about purchasing for 3 months, an item that subsequently spent 24-48 hours in my cart as I went through each and every state of grief, and which I then bought, in a desperate, the-guilt-can't-get-me-if-I'm-fast-enough rush.
because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.
you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.
you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.
don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.
if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.
you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:
how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!
aren't you happy yet?
.... and people ask us why masking is so difficult.
Scream
So this was in the Boston globe, and if I hadn’t read it myself I would have thought it was an Onion article. The lady wants walls again because now when she is working in the kitchen, her husband is in full view sitting watching TV and doing nothing. When they had walls, she was basically less aware of how ignored she was while being a hard-working woman and housewife. They don’t need walls, they need a marriage counselor.
Okay, but also: the walls are there for a reason.
In particular, the kitchen walls are there so that you can leave the kitchen messy when entertaining guests or having a meal (to the point that some open floor concept homes have a second, secret kitchen called a mess kitchen). The walls of the kitchen confine smells to the kitchen area, so your sofa doesn’t smell of bacon. Mess spreads from room to room.
Noise too, travels in an open floor concept. You’re confined to a bedroom or outside to make phone calls, listen to podcasts, etc. etc. without disturbing the rest of the household. The minute someone needs to cook? The entire house becomes unusable.
Open floor concepts have higher heating (cuz drafty) and cooling (kitchen) costs. They also require ALL of your decor to match if that’s a thing that’s important to you.
The noise and mess spreading in particular seem to me they could exacerbate marital problems. Do they need counseling? Oh yeah. Does the house make for a less hospitable home, that puts stress on a marriage? Yes.
Happy Pride!
Every pride, you must reblog this. No exceptions
I love that four different people on my feed scheduled this joyous person to reblog by 8am on June 1. I look forward to seeing this a dozen more times today.

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Love when you try to take a screenshot but fuck up the timing of the volume down lock button combo and are left sitting there with slightly softer music and a black screen and you just have to sit there looking at your reflection on the locked phone and contemplate your failure for a bit
How quickly we forget the dangerous crow boy who’s job it is to destroy plastic