#// here you go friend!

[flapperwitch]

WHAT new OFMD clip are you talking about????

Oh it's unlisted on YouTube, I had to go digging for it after seeing multiple posts and tweets about it

[tylerrnol]

ty’s favorite music videos (in no particular order) → seize the day - avenged sevenfold 

so, what if I never hold you / or kiss your lips again?

(for @sunset-striptease-redeux)

[misswoozi]

Where would SVT place on the top/bottom/switch chart? Could you do that one please?

[paper-starz]

The prettiest, most stunning lady you ever did see~

Here's Effie Dragonfly! The most dazzling new neighbor!

(THIS OC IS NOT MINE! IT BELONGS TO @dottyorange!!!!)

[liesforaliving]

@cxpt moved from here

Why was it still so hot even after taking all her gear off? She felt like the whole world was sitting on her chest, and she couldn't move it. It made it harder to breathe, and she was struggling to focus on anything but Hunter's voice in her head. The fear in his voice, the fading in and out again, catching clips of what he said. She was too scared to move, and she was struggling to drown out Hunter's voice and listen to Steve's. Her breaths were shaky now, and her hands moved from her lap to pressing against her forehead, trying to stop the feeling like she was overheating. 

Everything felt so distant like she was underwater, and she was trying to pull herself together, but the weight on her chest was so heavy. What was happening? This was not something she'd experienced before. 

She did briefly wonder if this was what Clint heard things like when his aids were off, minus the intense anxiety she was feeling. "Fuck." She mumbled, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes, a tsunami of nausea hitting her, drowning her from head to toe. Bobbi curled in on herself, leaning forward, hands still on her face. Not good, not good at all. She felt far from good, and she was trying to logic her way through it.

She was hot because of the extreme stress of being in the field again, and being distracted on a mission which caused lives to be put in danger. She felt the weight in her chest because she knew it was all her fault. The nausea was the body's response to the adrenaline spike, and the weight in her chest combined, making her feel uneasy and sort of out of body. 

"I had time," she managed to mumble, before sitting back up, pressing her head back against the wall, hoping that the coolness of the metal might do her some good. That was a whole new experience for her, and she didn't really know what just happened, but she sure didn't hear most of what Steve said to her. He could have been scolding her, and she wouldn't have known. She seemed to be through the thick of it, but she was still far from okay.

[kaylatullz]

for: @edietello

"I know they say compliments to the chef, but can I say compliments to the caterer? Because you're keeping my favorite stuff coming and I'm low-key obsessed with you for it."

[snarkafterhours]

[Cont. From] @thebewitchedbaker

Some of the best things started with sighs, and this interaction between them was proof alone. Well, and a shared conversation about past lovers, a little weed--even though Melvin really never partook in that. Though really it wasn't as bad as he thought? It leads to them both getting some on Chris' couch after all.

Suddenly being stressed didn't seem so bad either.

Being a writer was both a blessing and seemingly a curse as well. Along with trying to find out the meaning behind his own emotions as of late. Something of which wasn't easy for a man to figure out, at least not on his own. And he'd only vaguely known about the stress that Chris was experiencing as well. Though he didn't know how staging had even worked if he was honest, but that didn't mean he wasn't concerned.

Uncertain of how they'd ended up on the subject of lovers, and then Chris admitting he hadn't done such a thing in a while. Melvin made a wild suggestion to help the both of them. Considering they were already friends, a friends with benefits sort of thing could help. After all, he'd tried such a thing before with amazing results.

His hips continued to grind against the other man's after things had led to where they currently were. Lust was in his own eyes, and there were small claps of thunder about the room itself. All while it was a completely sunny day outside. Melvin was the one topping, though, his own member moving inside of Chris as they moved together.

"I'm certainly glad you agree,” Melvin sighed while enjoying the look in his companion's eyes. “Oh? So suddenly I'm a cutie, that right…?“

[insistonyourcupofstars]

Please don't ignore me

Hello, I'm Lina from Gaza🇵🇸🍉. I'm part of a family of 8. I'm married with two young children. We've been bombed, besieged, and starved. Sadly, I've lost many of my family members❗ and I can't afford to lose any more. With a heavy heart, I'm asking you to help me spread my campaign. Please, what I'm asking is too much. Can you write a post about my story and share it with your friends? I desperately need your support. My father and brother were injured in the bombing and are in critical condition. They need to travel for treatment. I need your support. The genocide is still going on

You are my only hope for survival.

Campaign verified by

@ana-bananya

💛💛💛

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Hey now, Let her cook!

[mynnthia]

was talking with a friend about how some of dunmeshi fаndom misunderstands kabru's initial feelings towards laios.

to sum up kabru's situation via a self-contained modernized metaphor:

kabru is like a guy who lost his entire family in a highly traumatic car accident. years later he joins a discord server and takes note of laios, another server member who seems interesting, so they start chatting. then laios reveals his special interest and favorite movie of all time is David Cronenberg's Crash (1996), and invites kabru to go watch a demolition derby with him

[oars]

[wetchickenbreast]

it’s me the WHITE PHARAOH 🤍 i have been KICKED from the pyramid due to CANCEL CULTURE and i need YOUR HELP please send pictures of your credit card front and back 💳 please help big friendly WHITE PHARAOH 🤍

[ratbaby15]

Got inspired, made something, hope you enjoy.

Pretty accurate if I do say so myself.

[malinaa]

if i think about the hunger games in peeta's perspective i WILL start sobbing

[coddda]

I wish we could have met in some other way.

Lawlight Week Day 2: Soulmates

If you saw me repost and re-edit this several times uh No you didn't </3

Still frames/Individual gifs:

If you know what every frame is from you get a free cookie. by the way

[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.