#I'm growing

[sceletaflores]

hiiiii...so i would say that i have about a million (seven) logan fics sitting in my drafts that range from like a third to half of the way done and i can't decide which one i should post next cause i never can so please help me! kisses!

[fitforestfairy]

Morning Nature Walk 🌲 🍃

It’s so lovely to have a walking buddy to go for long walks with!

My friend and I both love going on walks together and we’re planning to make this part of our weekly routine.

It’s also so good to have friends IRL again! 🥹 I’m finally breaking years of isolation.

[preetrambles]

the way now whenever i pray to god, the only thing i ask for is happiness, where did the "i want tasty food, a vacation and 1st rank" girlie in me go?

[celestialvexation]

@angelofthemornings

"we don't have girl talk, we have creature talk," my roommate Julia just said while rolling on the floor, "put that on your fucking tumblr, they'll love that shit"

[midnight-coffee94]

No single line has ever wrecked me as hard as this one from the Good Place and I think about it constantly

[cowardlycowboys]

girl who needs to ask for reassurance would rather be stabbed than admit they have needs

GIRL GENDER FUNNY‼️ POST MADE BY MOST FEMININE HE/THEY SHUT UP‼️

[pilferingapples]

some say the goat will end in fire some say in ice from what I've read on the Wikipedia page of past Goat-destroying efforts, I'm pretty sure none of us were reckoning on absolute swarms of hungry birds but birds are also great and will suffice

[so-much-for-subtlety]

I'm watching breaking bad for the first time, and I really can't stand Walter. Like what as asshole. But if I'm being honest, if I'd watched even just a few years ago I think my smooth brain would have seen him as the underdog hero.

Guys. Guys please. We have to remember that protagonist is not a stand in word for hero and antagonist is not a stand in word for villain. Please. We learned this in middle school. The protagonist is the character the audience follows. The antagonist is the character who is working against the protagonist.

[gotstabbedbyapen]

It's always "Hades isn't bad or cruel, his deeds are just metaphors of the inevitable death" or "Hades kidnapping Persephone represent the premature death".

But when the argument "Zeus has numerous affairs and many children because he represent the fertile rain" is brought up, all nuance is suddenly out of the window and Zeus is just a womanizer who can't keep it in his pants.

[fitforestfairy]

I'm growing, I'm pure life force 🌱

[frownyalfred]

thinking about a Damian who was raised his entire life hearing how much he looks like his Father, how he's the blood son, how he's better than any other child Bruce Wayne has taken in, starting to buy into it like a kid does, only to hit puberty and turn out looking like 80% Talia.

[itmearielleg]

me getting lost in past posts and pictures instead of doing shit in the present

but if we learn from the past it's time well spent, so, just have to change my ways completely and turn it into productive reflection and research instead of doe-eyed romanticizing <3 EASY!

[fungalnebula]

What I love most about Gandalf big naturals is how much it eases my chest dysphoria. I can sleep without a shirt on now because of Gandalf Big Naturals. Knowing that the artist made the original image while recovering from top surgery and said the image was like a final parting gift from their boobs makes me feel even better about the image's effect on me. Men with big naturals makes me feel much more good about my body than those old posts on here that were like "trans men! Some men have pecs!!! So don't feel dysphoric <3". It's much more meaningful to see a hairy, bearded man with a huge H cup rack not letting his tits get in the way of his masculinity.

Most of all, Gandalf Big Naturals helped me love my body the way it is instead of hating something that's a part of me. Of course I still want top surgery but the fact that I can live with my own big naturals until then without wanting to guillotine them off is really important.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

How much longer 'til your luck runs out?

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[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.

[wearenotjustnumbers2]

This baby remained under the rubble for six hours. Read it again. By some miracle, he survived and he was rescued. But his mother who was holding him didn't. He looks like he's in shock, you can see tears coming out of his eyes but no expression or any sound to indicate his pain.

We are not numbers. Make an effort to end this.