Hey welcome to my blog
lower your expectations immediately
This is so
Unnecessary
how do you explain to someone that this is your sense of humour
“What could the audio possibly be?”
*unmutes*
“Oh,”
If I ever don’t laugh at this, assume I died.
I FORGOT! I have one more small dinosaur illustration! I named him Winter Chimcken, and It was a limited print (50 copies), included as a free gift with purchases during Warszawskie Targi Fantastyki in December.
I have to admit, I absolutely love winter dinosaurs. Nothing warms my heart more than fluffy raptors during the polar night, or on a winter day with a low sun, a snow-covered forest, and visible breath steaming from their snouts. Honestly, this is exactly why I love paleoart so much — placing dinosaurs within real ecosystems, not as conceptual creatures with only basic needs, either mechanical prey or mechanical predators, but as living beings that interact with their environment.
what’s the most devastating song that comes to mind? like you’re on the verge of tears listening to it
when I tell u I had to scroll a week back in my twitter likes to find this video bc I genuinely couldn’t sleep until I did
Fun fact: In Japan, a cultivar of yellow orchid was created in the 90s and was named “Happy Valley Sailor Moon.”
It’s a hybrid flower that was named after Sailor Moon because the botanist who created it, Shigeru Makoto Kono, thought that the flower’s yellow color matched the color of Usagi’s hair. Naoko Takeuchi herself received these flowers and was so happy with them she decided to incorporate them in several artworks (as revealed in the linear notes of Sailor Moon Artbook Volume 5).
The thing about Cottagecore is that is a fetishized aesthetic of country life, divorced from labor and idealized by a primarily urban audience with a backward looking ethos of tradition. They are not prepared for the stresses of a rural life: farming; harvesting; tapping pumpkins to ensure none of them have been replaced with flesh; losing out on income by having to use one of your pigs in a blood sacrifice to paint protective sigils over your doors and windows; checking cracks and chimneys for the flesh-vines of the Pumpkin Lord; having to decide, before the Growth is complete, whether that’s really your tradwife or an amassment of vines, leaves, and blood in the shape of your tradwife; ignoring their desperate pleas that “I’m me! No! No!” as you burn them alive, realizing too late you picked wrong; and the exploitative corporate nature of commercial farming in 2024. All seen through a deeply colonial lens, of course
Mourning Ring
c. 1770-1830
Gold, jet, glass, hair
The Metropolitan Museum of Art