#but u never know

[drpeppertummy]

THINKING about sunny & marianne. she wanted to keep him so bad but he had to break it off bc she was way more into the feedism thing than he was & he didnt really want that to become his life. theyre still cool tho. every time he goes to the diner she asks if he wants to get back together & every time hes like Sorry Boss but he still lets her talk him into too much soup. ANYWAYS there is No way she doesnt put a few pounds on him during the time that theyre a thing & now im thinking about sunny with the tiniest soft little belly

[secretlytranced]

This blog is like my diary. Or, rather, a rambling confession of what's going on in my head. Sometimes, it's coherent, sometimes it's not.

The posts are probably not about you, but if it turns you on to think they are... be my guest ;)

[geceninlotusizisblog]

Yazmak insanın içini yansıtan bir eylemdir. Ruhundaki birikintileri sızdırdığı sözcüklerin bütünlüğüdür yazı. Yazı yazmaktan yazmak da ruhtan gelir. Ruhun ise nerden geldiği meçhul

[cadmuslabs777]

If I make gifsets from the leaked trailer do u guys think I'm gonna get shot by the snipers? I don't want this blog to get killed 😔

[gifti3]

the way im like most of the posts in the "how to survive as a maid in a horror game" tag....

[utterdrip]

few clips ive gathered of astarion being worried/protective

[dateamonster]

"top ten movies about Girlhood" whose girlhood? whose girlhood? what kind of girl are these movies about? answer quickly.

[suspicious-scarecrow]

[bishy437]

he won

bonus:

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[duckytree]

big brother part 7

[cozymochi]

no doubt an obvious and low hanging fruit joke to do, but, it wouldn’t leave me until it was visualized

Ko-fi

[lotus-pear]

these losers again

[nerdpoe]

Jason ends up in a fight in some town called Amity Park. He's partnering up with the local hero called Phantom.

It's against some ghost called Skulker, and he and Phantom are hiding behind a building while they regroup and take a moment to catch their metaphorical breath.

"I don't see any civvies around. You?" Phantom whispers, head invisible as he looks around the corner.

"Guess it's just us dead tonight," Jason deadpans (hah), loading his gun and checking to make sure there's no damages that would impact his ability to fire it accurately.

Suddenly Phantom is there, looking intense and serious in a way he never was in that fight, glowing eyes staring through Jason.

Taking him in.

"No," Phantom sighs, leaning away from a very spooked Jason and going back to fiddling with a thermos. "You aren't dead. You're alive, undeniably and in a way most people aren't."

Before Jason can ask what the fuck that's supposed to mean, a laser blast almost catches him in the leg.

He shelved it; both his questions and the weird fuzzy feeling that felt like relief at someone else telling him he was alive.

It felt like a weird vindication, but he never got that feeling when anyone else tried to tell him he was alive.

He'd parse it later; there was an ass to kick.

[bottombaron]

The scarest thing about Nandor being actually smart in all things Guillermo is that this is the reason why he'll never make the move to be with him:

Nandor already knows how he feels about Guillermo.

He's not even repressing it. He's just made peace with it. Because Guillermo was never an option.

Guillermo is human. He'll choose to stay human. He's fleeting. He'll always leave in some form or fashion. Nandor doesn’t choose to act on his feelings for Guillermo for the same reason why he never turned him. It would just be a curse.

[dongfangxunfeng]

im so curious abt what ppl carry around on the daily.....rb & tag what's in ur pockets/bag?