#love how it you know

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The math just adds up!

[the-gayest-sky-kid]

god i love my friends. shout out to people who love their friends. this is a post for friend lovers

[thatrandomblogsays]

Annabeth: I, a child, had to earn Thalia’s love, that’s how the world works! I have to earn my moms love. Love is transactional, you gotta be worthy of it first silly :)

Percy, listening to this on the train

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[noperopesaredope]

I wish we had more female characters like Eleanor Shellstrop. One of the most unlikable people you've ever met. Read a Buzzfeed article on most rude things you can do on a daily basis and decided to use that as a list of goals. Makes everyone's day worse just by being there. Dropped a margarita mix on the ground and tried to pick it up, only to get hit by a row of shopping carts which pushed her into the road where she was hit by a boner pill delivery truck, killing her instantly. Cannot keep a romantic partner despite being bisexual. Had a terrible childhood but will die before she gets therapy. Best employee at a scam company. Just the worst but also can't help but root for her to improve.

Absolute loser. Girl-failure. Bad at almost everything. Literally perfect female character.

[0sbrain]

alternatives for ai to design ocs

hero forge

picrew

the fucking sims 4

your local furry artist

bitmoji

shitty photoshoped collage

DeviantArt bases

zepeto

making edits of your favorite character

searching "dress up game" on the app store

learning how to draw

[secondbeatsongs]

source

[autumn-may]

Mostly spoiler free summary of my viewing experience

[coolerdracula]

saying “visual style" because, for example, if you would swap your current wardrobe for an identical, ethically made counterpart, there would be no visible change

[tooquirkytolose]

~The Most Beautiful Woman in The World~

Download on itch.io for extra content!

[notbrucewayne48]

"aphobia doesn't exist"

bitch literally not that long ago an aroace youtuber animator was insulted by almost half of its community for being it

[time-to-write-and-suffer]

I love how on Tumblr, "media literacy" has become "Um, just because someone writes about this doesn't mean they're endorsing this. I hate all these media puritans ruining everything."

I'm sad to inform you that knowing when and whether an author is endorsing something, implying something, saying something, is also part of media literacy. Knowing when they are doing this and when they're not is part of media literacy. Assuming that no author has ever endorsed a bad thing is how you fall for proper gander. It's not media literacy to always assume that nobody ever has agreed with the morally reprehensible ideas in their work.

Sometimes, authors are endorsing something, and you need to be aware when that happens, and you also need to be aware when you're doing it as an author. All media isn't horny dubcon fanfic where you and the author know it's problematic IRL but you get off to it in the privacy of your brain. Sometimes very smart people can convince you of something that'll hurt others in the real world. Sometimes very dumb people will romanticize something without realizing they're doing it and you'll be caught up in it without realizing that you are.

Being aware of this is also media literacy. Being aware of the narrative tools used to affect your thinking is media literacy. Deciding on your own whether you agree with an author or not is media literacy. Enjoying characters doing bad things and allowing authors to create flawed or cruel characters for the sake of a story is perfectly fine, but it is not the same as being media literate. Being smug about how you never think an author has bad intentions tells me you're edgy, not that you're media literate. You can't use one rule to apply to all media. That's not how media literacy works. Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Aheem heem. Anyway.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

you’ve been katsuki’s for as long as you can remember.

sure, he had never outwardly called you his girlfriend, but when you were both seven years old, he came up to you. chest heaving slightly from running up and down the hill where he had gotten you a freshly plucked out bouquet of flowers. the roots were still clinging to them and he got dirt all over your hands from forcibly grabbing them and shoving the bouquet in them before you could even form a sentence.

“since you accepted the flowers, you’re mine now.” he mumbled, his little hands tightened into fists at his sides and chubby cheeks a cute shade of pink, staring at you as confidently as he could.

a grin grows on his face when you respond with a simple “okay !” and a bright smile. the grin on his face never disappears even as his mom scolds him for getting you both all dirty.

you were katsuki’s in middle school too, when the boys in class decided to play kiss, marry, kill and he had somehow gotten dragged into it. the girls in your class tried their best to seem uninterested, claiming the boys were being childish, but you noticed how hard some of them were straining their ears trying to hear what the guys were talking about in their own little corner of the room. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little curious as well.

katsuki was as ruthless as you’d known him to be, choosing to kill any girl that wasn’t to his liking, which ended up being all of them. much to the other boys’ chagrin, claiming he had no taste.

then your name was brought up.

at that, his eyes widened and he turned in his seat to see if you were watching. you had never turned your head away so fast in your life and you were pretty sure you heard something go “crack”.

he clicked his tongue. mumbling something about how stupid the game was before muttering out a “kiss yn, marry yn and kill that other bitch.” before getting up and stomping away, claiming he had to go to the bathroom followed closely by the whoops and hollers of his two friends behind him.

you both made eye contact when he walked out and you think you’ll never forget how red his cheeks were.

you were katsuki’s when he was the one to walk you to and from school everyday, claiming you would somehow get lost without him. you were katsuki’s when he had begrudgingly shoved homemade valentines day chocolates into your arms, mumbling something about how you had been upset nobody had gotten you anything last year, conveniently leaving out the fact he had scared off all the other guys trying to offer you anything.

you were katsuki’s when he grabbed your hand during the winter because he said you’d “end up dying of hypothermia with the way you’re chittering over there.” and you were his when you were the only person he laughed around. loud, genuine laughter that you and only you could squeeze out of him. you were katsuki’s when he randomly kissed you goodnight at your door one night and he’s been doing it ever since, and gets all pouty when you turn away from his kisses to tease him.

“are we dating ?” you had asked him. you’re both in high school now and you’re in his dorm room. your legs are on his lap and he’s got a comfortable grip on your leg, which tightens after he registers your questions “hah?” he looks utterly confused and a little insulted as he looks back at you, his entire face scrunched up in confusion. you pinch his nose and he swats at your hand.

“are we dating ? like—am i your girlfriend.” you say again and katsuki’s face scrunches up even harder. he huffs and looks back at his phone, landing a little smack on your leg still placed in his lap. “ ‘course yer my fuckin’ girlfriend.” he spits out, obviously irritated. then he looks back at you “I haven’t made it obvious ?” he says sarcastically. one of his eyebrows lifted as he pokes at your leg still very much in his lap.

you simply shrug “s’not that. it’s just because you’ve never actually asked me out before, so i was a little confused on where we stood.” you mumble. he stares at you while you speak and he stares a little longer before sighing. then he leans towards you and flicks your forehead.

“ow !”

“dumbass.” he murmurs. there’s a slight pout on his face and his cheeks are light shade of pink when he looks you in the eyes again. he grabs both your cheeks with one hand and smushes them together to push your lips out and presses multiple wet kisses onto them that have you squealing and squirming. his wet lips are pulled into a smirk when he pulls back and you try your best to at least look a little angry, you really do. but it’s useless when he looks at you like that.

“of course you’re my girlfriend” he reiterates. his smirk’s been replaced for something softer, something more sincere as he gazes at you with so much unadulterated affection it makes your head spin a little. “you’ve always been mine.” he says it in a teasing tone and his hand is still smushing your cheeks out and it hurts a little but his eyes are still the same. they’re warm and soft and so, so enamored with you and only you.

when he finally let’s go of your face and pulls you fully into his lap, you realize katsuki’s been yours for as long as you’ve been his.

you smile brightly at him but turn your nose up when he leans in to kiss you again. “i still haven’t heard what i wanna hear though, mr. bakugou.”

he rolls his eyes and pinches at your thigh as he mumbles out a “don’t call me that.” sighing, he looks at you intensely and you suddenly feel very shy.

“will you be my girlfriend, ya shitty girl ?” and he says it as a joke, you both know it is cus his lips are already forming into a smirk the second he finishes his sentence. and you’re pulling at his nose the moment you register it, but you’re both smiling hard. he laughs and you’re sure you’ll never get tired of the sound. “what’s your answer, pretty ?” he asks playfully and you pretend to really think it over just to mess with him, and giggling out a “yes!” when he suddenly pounces on you. flipping you both over and tickling you mercilessly, calling it revenge for you “taking too damn long to answer.”

you’d been katsuki’s for as long as you can remember, and you hope you can be forever.

[wroniec]

Tara&Gale

[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.

[aarchimedes]

for context: I read the hobbit first over the course of two years when I was like 13, but I'm only now starting to read lotr. having a blast tho!

anyways, reblog if you feel like it 🙌🏻