How it's been going
Exodus 4:13, Andrei Tarkovsky Journal 1970-1986, The confessions of Saint Augustine, Jeremiah 1:6, Jonah 1:3, C.S. Lewis Surprised by Joy: The Shape of My Early Life.
cherry valley forever
tumblr dot com
trying on a metaphor

⁂
Sweet Seals For You, Always

PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Three Goblin Art
wallacepolsom

@theartofmadeline

blake kathryn

shark vs the universe
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h

Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Mike Driver
Cosmic Funnies

seen from United States

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@theflaminggoat
How it's been going
Exodus 4:13, Andrei Tarkovsky Journal 1970-1986, The confessions of Saint Augustine, Jeremiah 1:6, Jonah 1:3, C.S. Lewis Surprised by Joy: The Shape of My Early Life.

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🦀 Annual report of the New Jersey State Museum Trenton, N.J.: MacCrellish & Quigley, State Printers, 1902-1915. Original source Image description: Illustration from the 1902-1915 New Jersey State Museum annual report showing detailed scientific drawings of a female green crab (Carcinides maenas). The top view displays the crab’s broad, spiny carapace with two large, curved claws raised. The bottom view reveals the crab’s segmented abdomen, jointed legs, and fine details of the mouthparts and eyes. The images highlight anatomical features for identification, with a scale bar beneath the top crab for size reference. The plate number “126” is noted in the top right corner.
A question I get asked a lot while working at a public library is "how do you deal with homeless people?"
And the answer is, we don't.
The unhoused people who come here seeking refuge 99% of the time understand that they will be kicked out if they misbehave.
The people you have to watch out for are Jessica, who only came because the kid she didn't want had to visit for a homework assignment and she just *needs* to yell at her child for asking to borrow two books or stay an extra five minutes, or Michael, who came in to look at porn on our computers for whatever fucking reason, or Karen who just wanted to come by to throw a fit that the particular book she wanted was checked out and harrass our staff about our collection being too limited.
99% of the time, the people we need to ban are middle to upper-middle class white people while the homeless and mentally ill/disabled people mind their own damn business and are honestly some of the best patrons we have.
I bring this up because today we had a man come in. He stopped at the desk, pulled up a chair and said "I'm newly homeless and was living in my car. I'm disabled. It was impounded. It's raining. I don't have a phone and I don't know where to go tonight."
And we did what we could to help. He was incredibly kind and patient despite his obvious anxiety and stress, more than most able bodied, housed patrons are to us under much less dire conditions. I liked knowing that we were the first place he came.
We have so many people like this who come in everyday. Many are quiet and keep to themselves, but sometimes they talk to us.
They tell us about how they're taking a few courses on a scholarship they applied for from our library's computer at the local community college to get their diploma. Or ask about a manga or dvd or book we might have to help them pass the time.
One woman, who comes in daily with her tattered walker always says hello to me and likes to work on the new jigsaw puzzle with me when we set one out.
So like, treat unhoused people like people. Treat disabled people like people. I don't want my library to feel like the only safe space in the world, but I'm glad it can be one of them.
I'm so sick of hearing about how "the homeless are ruining everything" when they are some of the kindest, most respectful people here. Sometimes they mutter, might not have had a place to shower, and might need a little extra space for their backpacks but that's FINE. It Doesn't Matter Actually. None of that is a problem or any of my business to care about (unless they request help/services), and I also don't think it's any of yours.
libraries provide vital and lifesaving services and i will die on the hill you have to let people who are mentally ill and disabled and homeless and politically disagreeable to you still access those rescourses. its simply too important to society
One of my proudest life achievements was helping a close friend leave a controlling, emotionally abusive partner who happened to work as a librarian. Part of how I knew this guy was a terrible person was that he used his workplace experiences with homeless patrons as a justification for his increasingly reactionary right-wing politics (which were CLEARLY imported from manosphere tiktok, not his job). When she’d started the relationship he was a pretty normy lib with a few hangups from his patriarchal catholic upbringing. When he left his job (and finally got kicked out of her life, at around the same time) he was a trump-voting weirdo with an addiction to expensive men’s fragrances. But somewhere in the middle of that I was telling my friend “this guy is bad news. Every other librarian I know is super compassionate about & appreciative of the unhoused people who come in. I think it’s going to get worse and you should get out now.”
Anyway I was right and her life is so much better without him and I thank every other librarian who helps provide a safe, quiet place for people to rest and access resources.
It's "Don't speak ill of the dead." until it's time to put the correct name on the stone. 👀
It's "Don't speak ill of the dead." until someone's child is murdered and everyone's suddenly an expert in criminology and forensics.
It's "Don't speak ill of the dead." until school shooting victims don't follow yer political agenda.
It's "Don't speak ill of the dead." until someone thinks a God granted them dibs on some land.
It's "Don't speak ill of the dead." unless they died from AIDS, right?
It's "Don't speak ill of the dead." until someone's homeless.
It's "Don't speak ill of the dead." until a politician you've deified needs to move some merch.
It's "Don't speak ill of the dead." until someone starts charging for erotic services and content.
It's "Don't speak ill of the dead." until yer kid comes out or spouse wants to leave.
What do y'all think the Gods would appreciate more?
An offering made with your own effort, possibly by starting to learn a new skill or supporting someone in community.
OR
A billionaire's bot slop that's hurting Jörð?

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How convenient it is to attach small, useful objects to your clothes at waist level
Asking again, Christians. If we're made in the image of such an amazing Creator...why are so many of y'all dependent on Caesars' Planet Boiling Art Theft Machines?
"next time, log in faster with fingerprint/face/iris recognition!" how about i keep typing my password like i have for the past 25 years and you fuck off
Polyamory is safe for work. Polyamory is safe for kids. Polyamory is safe for day time tv. Polyamory isn’t more sexual than any other relationship and it can be just as romantic, sweet, and healthy.
Aggressively reblogs.
I'm gonna get phthaloplasty. Oh yeah my shit's all gonna be a serene sea green, or perhaps a tidal blue

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Happy Ýlir!
A tender, Wintery kiss for the Goddess Iðunn from the Goddess Skaði. Inspired by an apple tree in our yard that is usually one of the last trees in its area to lose its leaves when the killing frosts and freezes come.
Read more about it on my Ko-Fi~
The Lightning Son WIP
(P@treon saw it first~)
The average internet user should not have to become an expert on adversarial watermarking just to keep a MULTIBILLION+ DOLLAR company from stealing their work.

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Bootblacking is top level kink because it's one of the few I can think of where the nominal sub is treated as a thoughtful, knowledgeable technician from the outset.
Like, a flogging bottom might be praised for their ability to take pain and know their limits, or a rope bunny might be recognised as keeping themselves in good physical shape so they can hold complicated stress positions for longer than a novice, but even the most beginner of beginner bootblacks has learnt a little bit of materials science (Will this type of brush scratch this patent finish?), a little bit of basic chemistry (If these were last polished with a silicone wax, how do I remove that to start to bull them?), a little bit of leatherworking history (Is that natural fibre stitching on those surplused Warsaw Pact boots, will my polish rot it?) and spent time practising techniques on their own boots.
And it's one of the few kinks I can think of where the top is so immediately physically and emotionally vulnerable to the bottom in that way: I put my foot in the hands of a stranger bootblacking at a party, and I trust that they won't damage the boots I was gifted by my long-dead Master when I was 17, that they won't soak the stitching and start the rot of the boots I was wearing when I first fucked the love of my life, I trust that they'll carefully work around and treat the cuts and scuffs in the leather that I picked up wearing these same boots marshalling at a dozen prides and going toe-to-toe with strikebreakers and scabs on twenty years' worth of picket lines. The experienced bootblack can look at my soles and where my boots crease, and see that I have a weak hip, that I'm slightly bowlegged, that I don't drive and that I walk even in the weather where I'd rather not. And I trust that they'll see that worn-out, poor, slightly sad old man and still call me "sir".
It just feels like a lot.
@spitfaggot
the joke among my leather circle is "everyone subs for a bootblack," not necessarily that bootblacking = sub or dom, but rather, we could have the most stone-top, left-pocket-black-flagging, powder-coated-steel-paddle-gripping Sir Dom, and all a bootblack has to do is move their wesco boot with a palm and they obey. "give me this foot." tugging laces loose with one practiced finger. hefting a heavy-soled engineer up to wrench pebbles loose from in between the lugs. "stay still." taking finger-fulls of huberd's and lathing it meticulously and lavishly over a pair of oil tans - watching my customer curiously eye the lubricated shine with a rising heat behind their cheeks. planting the full weight of their boot on my shoulder and commanding them, gently, to press their weight onto me.
there's something so deeply fulfilling in being a technician, someone who restores leather like a museum archivist, accentuating scratches and blemishes and returning life to those leather pieces so they can go on to keep fucking, kicking, running. i am as much a craftsman as i am a history keeper. my respect is given not just by the titles i refer to you with, but the care i have given to your boots, jackets, and harnesses, and the stories they tell.
Please stop trigger tagging with #epilepsy tw/cw/warning/etc.
I need every single person to understand how horrible tumblr’s tagging system is
I go into the tag for epilepsy and its all flashing lights. We can’t use our own tag because people without epilepsy fill it up with improper warnings.
Use ‘flashing’ in place of ‘epilepsy’ in your tags. You aren’t warning people of epileptics, you’re warning us of flashing lights. Please please tag properly. Epileptics say this endlessly and constantly and it’s ignored. You are risking lives by doing this.
Here’s proof of what I mean:
THIS POST IS 100% OKAY TO REBLOG, I ENCOURAGE PEOPLE WITHOUT EPILEPSY TO ESPECIALLY DO SO!