#time and money on any of it

[camgoloud]

me normally, just existing in my skin on a day-to-day basis: i’m not a particularly feminine person but i’m definitely not MASCULINE really like i just kind of don’t think about it much either way and it’s fine! :)

me standing in the makeup and skincare aisles in target with my mother and sister: oh wow i am the most masc woman alive, apparently

[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.

[puppyeared]

me when the laikas comet. is this anything

@laikascomet

[nerdpoe]

Jack and Maddie Fenton got in trouble with CPS after Danny's accident. The portal was shut down, Vlad was deemed mentally unfit to adopt, and Danny and Jazz were adopted by a kind farming couple in Kansas.

Danny and Jazz kept Danny's powers a secret from the Kents, as the Anti-Ecto Acts were still in effect (they were one of the first laws abolished with the initiation of Meta Rights) and they didn't expect a farmer couple to readily accept a superpowered teen.

Then Clark crashed into their life.

Danny loved being a big brother, and when Clark started showing powers? Danny refused to let him think he was alone.

Clark was taught how to fly from his big brother Danny. Clark was taught strength control and how to control his power from Danny.

Danny ended up being Smallville's local Engineer, giving up going to college so that Clark could go. Farming didn't pay a lot, and they'd only saved up for one kid, really. Danny couldn't get a scholarship, his grades weren't good enough. Jazz did get a scholarship, so he didn't have to worry about her.

So Danny stays on the farm, inventing a million odd little things until the Kent farm is the best defended farm in the world.

And Clark...Clark feels guilty. He feels like he robbed his big brother's chance at higher education.

Then Clark meets Batman.

Batman, who is Bruce Wayne's sugar baby.

Bruce Wayne, who has a lot of grants and scholarships to get people into college.

Batman stops Superman mid-pitch and leaves, only to return with Green Arrow.

"No Supers allowed in Gotham, talk to Green Arrow about grants."

[lucabyte]

Taking pride in One's own appearance.

[cerastes]

Drimo you are famous please divulge the fact that twitter is about to drop any game accounts bind like arknights where you can log through twitter accounts.

Noone is gonna be able to use twitter to access to arknights very soon.

I’m not famous but I will stress that this is a very serious issue.

Here’s a short article on it, but basically, Twitter is ending free access to its API, thus, games would have to pay for a package to access this, which includes features such as binding syncs for accounts.

Starting on February 9th, free access will no longer be supported, meaning, there’s a very real chance that your Twitter-bound account for your favorite mobile game, like Arknights, won’t be accessible through that particular venue any longer, possibly locking you out of your account. There’s no telling which developers will be purchasing this new access package, so better be safe than sorry: Go to your accounts and make sure they have another bind so you don’t get locked out of them.

Please let as many people know about this, so no one gets locked out of their accounts. Twitter gave a single week’s notice, which might catch some people unaware, and this is sudden on game developers as well, so, again, better be safe than sorry, bind your accounts in other ways if you use Twitter binding.

[nelkcats]

Coffee-scented kisses

Tim fell in love with a barista. At first he had wondered if it was simply a mistake, to transfer his love for coffee to the person who produced it, but slowly he realized it was a little more than that.

Danny, the new barista, didn't really criticize him when he ordered 8 coffees a day, as long as he was on shift. He also didn't ask him about his health insurance every time he ordered Death Wish, and even made sure to make small talk every time he delivered his coffee.

It had only been a few days since he was hired but Tim fell in love with his small talk, his care, and of course, his coffee.

Then, when Danny was suspected of working with Two Face he was heartbroken. The boy was probably innocent, but he couldn't get out of his head that nothing in Gotham was simple, everyone kept secrets, including himself. So he made up his mind to stay away from Danny, for his sake.

Danny, for his part, was Harvey Dent's assistant and a part-time barista, he just wanted to distract himself and Harvey was strangely sympathetic after telling him about running away from home. Kind of like a guy you stay with during the vacations, but more permanent.

The halfa started to worry when the cute boy from the cafe stopped coming, maybe he was in danger? Danny couldn't help but worry, but when his coworkers told him Tim was coming in on other shifts he wondered if the boy was avoiding him.

[moment-live]

I started playing the stupid mobile game

[seagiri]

Traditional Stuff

[suja-janee]

I wonder who these two totally random people in disguise are?

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

💙❤️Happy Holidays!❤️💙

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[snekdood]

so uh

for 1. most people are gonna take advantage of black friday and wont see your specific niche tumblr post, I hate to say it

2. the us isnt running out of money for war any time soon, so...

3. this is just antisemitism???????? all we need is some (((echoes))) around the us and israel and then I'd have no reason to suspect otherwise from op...............

[milfyspamton]

i gotta quit putting off making this post so. i cant work right now and i don't really have much money to spend so. heres the only place im able to receive money i feel bad for asking but i just actually need money for food to eat and to keep myself Moderately healthy. i appreciate anything ty if u rb etc

edit! if u wanna help out but can't use cashapp it's also possible 2 donate gift cards etc 😢 if you really wanna

[sollucets]

ployphach phatchatorn as taemrak | wandee goodday, episode one

[unpretty]

Alright, important question: does Colombo or Constantine wear the coat better?

it is constantine's lot in life that he has never worn anything better than anyone in his entire life, and if he ever seems like he is that means he's pretending to be someone else and the whole thing is going to collapse the instant he's himself again