impmilk

[impmilk]

As sad as it is that so many have experienced this, I'm glad that I'm not the only one. It makes me happy to see that this was relatable and now we all know that we really weren't alone growing up.

(also, could y'all spare a follow🙏❤️)

Why does nobody talk about how lonely it is to grow up neurodivergent, especially undiagnosed? When so many of your interactions are awkward, when you see the world differently and interact with it differently, when you can't focus the same, it's so hard to feel like you're part of the crowd, especially when you don't know /why/ you feel the way you feel. I didn't make more than a few friends until I was in 6th grade, and that really affected me. And even when I had friends, I sometimes felt excluded, especially while meeting their /other/ friends. And when I moved away from them I was completely alone again and I've only made a single friend in my new town.

I did not phrase this post at all intelligently or effectively but I hope it made sense.

[impmilk]

The Flock - concept art by Nick Carver

[impmilk]

Why does nobody talk about how lonely it is to grow up neurodivergent, especially undiagnosed? When so many of your interactions are awkward, when you see the world differently and interact with it differently, when you can't focus the same, it's so hard to feel like you're part of the crowd, especially when you don't know /why/ you feel the way you feel. I didn't make more than a few friends until I was in 6th grade, and that really affected me. And even when I had friends, I sometimes felt excluded, especially while meeting their /other/ friends. And when I moved away from them I was completely alone again and I've only made a single friend in my new town.

I did not phrase this post at all intelligently or effectively but I hope it made sense.

[impmilk]

Made some friends!

This is Oatley. Only goes to the party if they knows there’s going to be good dessert. The best meme dealer of the group.

Willow. Super secretive for no reason. Somehow evades all questions about themselves but knows everything about their friends. Friends speculate that they have a dark past but in reality they have a really supportive home life. Voted most likely to succeed and most likely to go to jail.

Sunny and Fig. Together they have three brain cells but only one holds all the brain cells at a time. Chaotic lawful.

Clem. Can’t cook but will always bring desserts and snacks. Doesn’t have their life together in the slightest yet the mom friend of the group.

Robert. Thinks their love language is something totally different than it actually is. Their friends know their actual love language and have to discreetly make them feel loved without Robert knowing.

Cranberry. Has 3,000 hobbies, can’t do any well but that doesn’t stop them. Has joked about being the “family disappointment” so much that they’ve forgotten it’s actually trauma. Will say that they’re proud of celebrities on their instagram posts.

Spruce. Is constantly holding in their rage at mankind. Has several famous tumblr posts because of their opinion thoroughly expressed in all capital letters. Hangry all the time but never knows what to eat.

Monty and Harper. Straight up bros. The perfect friends. After five years of friendship their friends wonder when their flaws will be exposed but they never will because they’re perfect. Their one thing is that they’re like REALLY into birds but their friend can’t decide if that qualifies as a flaw.

The gang!

[impmilk]

ART PRIZE INTERVIEW // Discover the beautiful darkness of @billelis, 1st Prize Winner, Digital Art Award, 2019 Beautiful Bizarre Art Prize. Visit https://ift.tt/1a20IOv today [link in profile] and learn about his many creative elements, collaborative endeavors with @sick666mick, and much more in an interview by @mother.of.cups.⁣ .⁣ To enter the 2020 Beautiful Bizarre Art Prize visit https://ift.tt/2Sxxyq2 [link in profile].⁣ .⁣ .⁣ .⁣ posted on Instagram - https://instagr.am/p/B-iKtD0h4Vh/

[impmilk]

final project for my jewish studies class ! the assignment was to answer the question, “WHAT IS JEWISH ART?” after spending the semester studying jewish artists from the 20th century, so here are my thoughts on the intersection of art and identity.

goyim can interact w this post but don’t clown in the comments thx

[impmilk]

Screens

Oh, how they burst with brilliance and a magnitude like that of an ancient stellar body, another point in a faraway constellation, though instead of a crab or a man or a snake, it paints a picture of the infinite web of our small human minds, each of us connected with invisible lines and invisible rules, just like a constellation.

[impmilk]

Why are tumblr aesthetics complete garbage. Why are their mushrooms, moss, and fuckin teddy bears in the "dragoncore" tag? Why does dark and light academia have the exact same posts? Why is solarpunk just people fucking gardening?

I have no issue with any of these things in a vacuum, I'm only angry with the way people tag things. Is it so wrong to want to click on a tag and see posts related to the tag?

[impmilk]

Iron and Soft Grass

Chapter 1: A clearing, a sword, and a demon in denim.

[cringe alert]

A beautiful day out. Not a lick of rain or a drop of skywave, simply Helagna shining her celestial rays into warm Zetaruman soil. Sprouting grass covered a clearing, the sounds of a nearby rushing river still audible through the surrounding trees, the great rings out in the void completely and exquisitely visible overhead. In this clearing, a terribly tall man of 7 feet and 5 inches, with vivid crimson skin. He had horns as black as a night sans the stars sprouting from the sides of his bestial face, somewhere between a hyena, a turtle, perhaps a German Shepherd with a flatter snout. Through all of this, he managed to be quite a handsome devil in the literal sense. Though he'd once been mortal, his consequent young death, 20 year vacation to the depths of Hell, uplift into the status of Demon, and occupation as tempter in the mortal realm, reasons as to why he walks in the space-time of the living. Despite his perhaps intimidating stature and visage, this man, called Nieren, has a compassionate, empathetic demeanor. He's bold and plenty debaucherous, but friendly and understanding. Nieren's left hand was open and free, his right carrying a standard, unimportant bastard sword solely for the purpose of training. He feels the warm breeze brush through the slight tuft of clementine hair that sat between his small but jackal-esque ears. Nieren raises the sword out to the wind in lieu of any real opponent in a stance he learned down inside the depths of Hell, called The Serpent. This style was his favorite, Serpentine swordsman favoring a flowing, graceful, swift fight rather than a barbaric clash of blades. He began sliding his arms around himself and forward. This was a very traditional way of beginning a fight, but it had a genuine purpose, building and brightening, or rather darkening, the black splendor of his infernal soul. That's when he lashed forward as a snake lunges, slashing his sword in a very specific, calculated, unpredictable way. The slash unleashed an ironically aqueous, flowing barrage of crimson flame, each spiraled end of blazing heat ending with pure, delicious black. Nieren didn't end his simulated attack, deftly throwing the sword about an inch in the air, switching the angle of his hand, then grabbing it and slashing again, them turning and spinning it yet again, slithering forward, fractal flame of red and black periodically bursting from the metal blade. Nieren turned and tossed and slashed and cut until any hypothetical daytime spectre in front of the man would surely be diced down and burnt to nothing. He'd realized that he'd made it all the way across the clearing. Nieren looked back, at the sad, dead, slithering, ashen path of grass that lead to his current footing. Nieren sighed and tossed his sword to the ground, letting it land on the dirt with a satisfying baritone 'Thunk'. He crouched down and stuck his hand into the dirt, breathing in deep, projecting his intention into the earth of Zetarum. The dead grass he'd left behind started reversing as if time for each individual blade was being turned back. The ash dissipated to nothing, the green luster returning and blending in with the rest of the clearing. Nieren grunted from fatigue and stood back up, shaking the dirt off his hand. Using his demonic abilities to grow plants was tiring for him, as the nature of his kind is not to create or heal, but to tempt and burn. Alas, power is power, and his nature as a demon can't stop him from healing the grass. Nieren rebuilt his constitution and picked the sword back up, sliding it into the sheathe clipped onto his denim pants. He turned his heel and began walking back to town.

[impmilk]

Traditional fly clothing

Usually features a wide sleeved shirt (kaftan) that ends below the hips. They tend to have slits for secondary arms. A smaller shirt with narrow sleeves is worn underneath.

Both men and women wear long puffy pants that end at the ankle.

Members of higher castes often layer their clothing in order to show off their wealth.

[impmilk]

I'm gonna post the thing I used for my banner to start this blog off. I drew it small which is why the quality is so potatoes.