In Every Wood In Every Spring There Is A Different Green.

maidens if you are going to flee dramatically from my castle in the middle of the night once i reveal my true nature to you please leave your candelabra on the little ledge by the portcullis we are running out of them

hi im pinterest. sorry we r emailing you because a pin you saved breaks our terms. yeah sorry. no we wont tell you which one it is. yes we know you didnt make it. no we dont care. if this happens again we might delete your account though, so...

maybe this time picking at Textures on my skin will lead to being silky smooth

let me into the office building. i can be trusted around middle-aged men wearing ties

The Seven Steps of the Red Goddess, for Chaosium's The Lunar Way

This set of pieces is some of my favourite work I've ever done (and there is a bunch more of that in the book). I had a larger format to work with than previous depictions of the Seven Steps really tried to emphasize the more human aspects of the Red Goddess - depicting her as expressive and reactive to her situation, someone that you can see yourself in. I put a lot of myself into it (and we all know that her underworld quest is an allegory for transition) and am very happy with how it turned out!

Your body is an ancestor. Your body is an altar to your ancestors. Every one of your cells holds an ancient and anarchic love story. Around 2.7 billion years ago free-living prokaryotes melted into one another to form the mitochondria and organelles of the cells that build our bodies today. All you need to do to honor your ancestors is to roll up like a pill bug, into the innate shape of safety: the fetal position. The curl of your body, then, is an altar not just to the womb that grew you, but to the retroviruses that, 200 million years ago taught mammals how to develop the protein syncytin that creates the synctrophoblast layer of the placenta. Breathe in, slowly, knowing that your breath loops you into the biome of your ecosystem. Every seven to ten years your cells will have turned over, rearticulated by your inhales and exhales, your appetites and proclivity for certain flavors. If you live in a valley, chances are the ancient glacial moraine, the fossils crushed underfoot, the spores from grandmotherly honey fungi, have all entered into and rebuilt the very molecular make up of your bones, your lungs, and even your eyes. Even your lungfuls of exhaust churn you into an ancestor altar for Mesozoic ferns pressurized into the fossil fuels. You are threaded through with fossils. Your microbiome is an ode to bacterial legacies you would not be able to trace with birth certificates and blood lineages. You are the ongoing-ness of the dead. The alembic where they are given breath again. Every decision, every idea, every poem you breathe and live is a resurrection of elements that date back to the birth of this universe itself. Today I realize that due to the miracle of metabolic recycling, it is even possible that my body, somehow, holds the cells of my great-great grandmother. Or your great-great grandmother. Or that I am built from carbon that once intimately orchestrated the flight of a hummingbird or a pterodactyl. Your body is an ecosystem of ancestors. An outcome born not of a single human thread, but a web of relations that ripples outwards into the intimate ocean of deep time.

Your Body is an Ancestor, Sophie Strand

i'm literally the priest's favorite sacrificial lamb because i am so docile and sweet and i hold very still when they put the rope around my neck and i trot along so happily while they lead me to the altar and they do not even have to tie me down because i lie so very still and only bleat once or twice in my lovely lamb voice and when the knife comes down it cuts through me like butter and i offer no resistance and i bleed so prettily all over my new white wool and my guts all unspool like the most beautiful shining yarn and my eyes are animal and dumb and hold no accusation and every time i die i come right back as another little lamb because the priest loves me so so much and he always chooses me for the sacrifice every time and he always places one hand on my small and twitching nose to calm me while he lifts the knife and he doesn't do it for the other lambs only me because i'm his favorite

I have so much respect for Ryan R Reynolds for playing the long game. For YEARS he pitched scripts, dropped references, made phone calls, begged, PLEADED with studios to make his gay ass ship sail, despite one of the characters being played by an actor who LITERALLY RETIRED. And yet he never gave up. He kept going for so long that he eventually PULLED THAT ACTOR OUT OF RETIREMENT to do it. They slipped past censors with an r rating and LOADS of subtext to create what is possibly the gayest superhero movie of all time. And Ryan finally got to live out his homoerotic dreams to see his deadpoolxwolverine5everrrr ship become as close to canon as physically possible AND also flirt with Hugh Jackman for an entire project. It’s the most inspiring story of 2024. Never give up on ur dreams <3 especially if they’re gay as hell

Cemeteries and Snow 🪦❄️

where's that post about how meth wasn't walt's last option it wasn't even his second option it was straight up his first option. like soon as he got his diagnosis he was like you know what. i'm going to cook meth