#love the typos

[flowerytale]

Katherine Mansfield, from a letter to Virginia Woolf (August 1919)

[prettyboythings-blog]

hwats ur typrp

Honestly? Difficult question. I don't really have the type. As long we connect really well I don't really care. Though I will say like 9/10 of my ex bfs are skinny af and have glasses 💀

But that's just coincidence lmao

[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.

[cococaffeinated]

Keep thinkin' about what it might have been like when Jax was the new thing in town... And I just love the dynamic between Kinger, Jax, and Gangle— they're so cute (all of them are, really)!!! ┏━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━┓ Part 2 🎪Here🎪 ┗━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━┛

[literallyjustanerd]

so a few days ago I saw this post, and the accompanying tags from @brrmian :

the idea of Cody being simultaneously so cool on the surface and constantly overanalysing every interaction stuck with me so much that I ended up spitting all my thoughts into existence

so

enjoy a brief look into Commander Cody's mind:

[festidae]

a prince on his throne

[iheartmonaco]

HI CAN YOU PLEASE WRITE A FULL FIC ON THE VERSTAPPEN GOOD BOY TEXTS PLEASEEE

Good Boy

MV1 X GN!reader

Summary: max verstappen with a praise kink that's it that's the fic

Warnings: suggestive

Inspired by these texts

It started as a joke, really, when you said "you're such a good boy" to Max for the first time.

What shocked you was his reaction to it— the Dutchman, blunt as ever, replied, "I want to hear that in your actual voice, not through texts."

So here you were, with Max's head in your lap, petting him like he does to the cats. A soft sigh left his half-open mouth. You couldn't help but think of it as the perfect opportunity to try out what could be an amazing new addition to your sex lives.

As Max was coming close to the end of his ramble about the day's race, you ran your fingers through his hair and spoke softly, "You did so good today, baby. I'm so proud of you."

It was barely the starting, just typical praise you would always give him after a race, but his reaction was always so adorable you couldn't help but melt. Featherlight pink dusted his cheeks. "Mhm," he replied, lips pressed together in a small smile.

"Such a good boy, always making me so proud."

Heat rushed to his cheeks, cherry red now, as he struggled to keep a straight face. "Thank you, schatje."

You resumed patting his head, cooing softly, "You like that, baby? Like when I call you a good boy?"

Max was looking up at you with sultry eyes and his pupils blown wide. "Yeah," he whispered.

"Then why don't you get on your knees and give me a good reason to call you that, hm?" Max moved instantly, on his knees in front of you in what seemed to be 2 seconds at most. "You know what to do, right, pretty boy?"

He nodded, lips parted as his chest heaved for oxygen. He looked a little dizzy, pupils blown out and blushing down to his chest, and you were loving the effect the simple words had on him.

"Words, baby."

He swallowed dryly, his breath on your thigh. "Yes, schatje, please. Let me please you."

You decided to tease him a while longer, cupping his chin with one hand. "And why should Iet you do that, baby?"

His fingers toyed with the waistband of your sweatpants. "Because I wan— I wanna be a good boy. For you."

You lifted you hips, letting him take your pants off. "Oh, you already are, Max...

"you're such a good boy."

[marisatomay]

i’m a bit bummed at how little recognition NOPE has received this awards season i will say it

[sharpbutsoft]

Local firefighter says he loves his best friend “a regular amount”

[souvenir116]

Charles being sassy for 39 seconds:

all vids are from Clara 🤍

[flowerytale]

Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Vita Sackville-West

[kitsunecrows]

all at once, everything looks different

now that i see you 🪺🪽

[moonsart]

(The mask falls)

(Your family sees you clearly now)

(With all of your mistakes on display. Your selfish desires, your disgusting feelings, your wish)

(And yet, you know)

(That in this moment)

(Just like in every moment before, and in every moment that will come after)

(You are loved)

[frownyalfred]

“This fic would be better if—” babe this isn’t your high school English class and my fic isn’t assigned reading. it’s something a stranger wrote on the internet without an explicit request for constructive criticism or suggestions for improvement. you are not grading my smut fic on a rubric (I hope).

if you cannot consume writing without needing to criticize it, that’s a you problem. stop leaving me these kinds of comments — and if you DO: for god’s sake, please make sure you’re actually objectively correct about the criticism you’re leaving.

[yanderemommabean]

Choso who insists on doing everything with you. Showering with you, having his muscular arms wrapped around you, head against your shoulder as he breathes you in. It’s one of the few times he gets eerily quiet, just basking in the warmth with you, feeling you against him and grounding him back to earth.

Cooking for you, getting antsy when he sees you grabbing for anything sharp, demanding you either let him do it or at the very least allow him to handle all heat and sharps. You explain that you aren’t a child and know what you’re doing but he doesn’t listen, doesn’t /care/. Besides when he makes it, you always say it tastes special! Not that you need to know what he adds everytime…

Slides in bed beside you, pulling you into his chest, wishing you didn’t put on pajamas at all so he can feel all of you, wanting to let his fingers map out your skin so he never forgets the feeling. You just try to lay on your side but that just gives the man access to your thighs, that he’s more than happy to show appreciation for, especially since you insist your underwear stays on if he’s staying a night.

(Said underwear is sniffed desperately when you’re alseep. He jerks his cock in long, languid strokes to savor it as he inhales your musk, mouth watering and begging to feel you on his tongue).

Choso being a clingy, perverted and protective yandere 💕💕

-Mommabean

[gnawgag]

it’s their’s to burn

sharing a cigarette with joan of arc - dante émile ( @orpheuslament ) // photography by brendon burton