🌸simply a sweet, technological baby with a magic bag🌼
miles | e/em/eir | pro-treason | more to come 🌷
meet miles
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Posts tagged people:
/SPOOKY SCARY SKELETONS/
Pink metallic watercolor ! Less sparkly than gold, still very pretty ~
don't look back.
color me in sticker
check it out i found one o' those weird stock photos in the wild
[short id: stock photo of a person with tiny umbrellas and plastic figures in their beard. The person does not look like they want to be here. longer id under the cut.]
[id: a stock photo. It's a bust shot of a person with pale skin and brown hair in front of a generic gray gradient background. None of that is really important though--the entire thing that makes this photo stand out is their beard. The person has a thick full-chin beard and moustache, and in this beard are stuck a variety of strange items--a few of those little umbrellas you get in drinks as well as multiple colored plastic animal toppers on toothpicks. The person faces towards the viewer, smiling, but it's not a real smile. Their eyes gaze blankly into the space beyond you. You sense they have been living this way for a long, long time, longer than you would know. Maybe they used to be one of those poor souls made to sit in the dunk booth at the carnival. Maybe they used to run a knock-the-bottle game, the prize being to pick a trinket from their beard. Whatever they did, whoever they were, is long gone now. All there is to do in this spaceless gray void is watch. Watch, and wait. And so they stand, trapped in the glass behind the dreamstime overlay, ever-resenting the swirls and wards put in place to prevent their escape.
The person does not appear to be wearing a shirt.
end id.]
fused me and my gf's gemsonas on a livestream the other day
follow me on twitch @temporalcatnip to catch the next one!
"He was proud of his striped socks..."
a frail dance
digitalized and edited one of my favorite pieces from last inktober!
kanaya-maryam - After learning my flight was detained 4 hours, I heard the announcement: if anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic, please come to the gate immediately. Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there. An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress, just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly. Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her problem? We told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she did this. I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly. Shu dow-a, shu-biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick, sho bit se-wee? The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—she stopped crying. She thought our flight had been canceled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late. Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother until we got on the plane and would ride next to her—Southwest. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and found out, of course, they had ten shared friends. Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours. She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering questions.
She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—and was offering them to all the women at the gate. To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California, the lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.
And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—non-alcoholic—and the two little girls from our flight, one African American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice and lemonade, and they were covered with powdered sugar, too. And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing with green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.
And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought, this is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped—has seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women, too. This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.”
— Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.”
"those places I have seen."
do not repost my art.
Project S22
[ she/her ]
S22 is a mass of radioactive fungi that gained sentience; she was found by scientists near an abandoned nuclear plant. She has a 3D printed skeleton that allows her to have a humanoid shape. Despite her intimidating appearance, she has a friendly and chill personality.
She hasn’t completely learned any human language yet but she can speak some English and imitate voices perfectly. She hates the fact that people assume she’s ‘stupid’ because she doesn’t know a lot of words, despite her actually being very smart.
She needs a lot of water to maintain this form and will often pour water on her head to remain hydrated.