dudes will be like "women only date based on looks they wouldn't go for a guy who isn't conventionally attractive" meanwhile the women in question are thirsting over the ghoul from fallout bc he's cool and wears cowboy boots like looks literally have fuck all to do with it fellers

I get my media recommendations the old fashioned way: by watching someone I follow on here go on an unhinged reblog spree of media related content until I eventually decide to go "alright, what's all this then"

What a great way to spend a Winter evening!

i want to give anomalocaris a happy meal

Sinking ⚓️

i love reading sad books bc when your own grief is stopped up inside you like a clogged drain you can grieve for a character on a page and understand that you're also grieving for yourself a little bit

book dedications are so tender here is this piece of art i made for an audience of thousands. but really every word is for you

Shark and Ray

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“the worst they could say is no” true but while they are saying it they very well could hit me with force lightning like palpatine. From star war

where’s that picture of david duchovny gazing longingly at jar jar binks in a picturesque landscape of an alien planet

“I, too, feel the need to reread the books I have already read,“ a third reader says, “but at every rereading I seem to be reading a new book, for the first time. Is it I who keep changing and seeing new things of which I was not previously aware? Or is reading a construction that assumes form, assembling a great number of variables, and therefore something that cannot be repeated twice according to the same pattern? Every time I seek to relive the emotion of a previous reading, I experience different and unexpected impressions, and do not find again those of before. At certain moments it seems to me that between one reading and the next there is a progression: in the sense, for example, of penetrating further into the spirit of the text, or of increasing my critical detachment. At other moments, on the contrary, I seem to retain the memory of the readings of a single book one next to another, enthusiastic or cold or hostile, scattered in time without a perspective, without a thread that ties them together. The conclusion I have reached is that reading is an operation without object; or that its true object is itself. The book is an accessory aid, or even a pretext.”

— Italo Calvino, If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler

Moodboard for when you have to do the job you were hired to do in the location you applied to getting paid the wage you had to agree to

Electric by Laurie A. Conley (@laurieaconleyart)

"i cant wait to get home from work so i can do all that stuff i wanted to do"

when i get home from work:

Tadpole necklace by Lexi Dick

'This necklace depicting the metamorphosis of the frog will intrigue people wherever you wear it. The frogspawn is represented by rock crystal beads, and there are thirteen tadpoles on each side in graduated sizes, the larger ones growing legs. The central frog sits on a hand carved slate pebble.' £675

THEY TRANSLATED YANKII AS AMERICAN

and on the sixth day god created the gas station convenience store refrigerated beverage section