#always love these asks

[inkskinned]

she's singing in another room and my dog is asleep at my feet. my grandma asked me why i haven't found a man yet and i laughed. oh, you know. i like my house clean.

my girlfriend is also my man is also "my partner" if i'm in a professional setting. yesterday we went to a ren faire and a man mimed at me - you're together? and at my delighted nod, his baffled, you're gay? made me laugh. a woman with rainbow hair said i love the two of you together. you're both so beautiful it's absurd.

my dad introduced my partner as my "..... friend. or whatever" the other day. he knows we're dating. in the same way, i was never able to get my sister's husband to stop saying that's gay like it's 2008. he still uses the word fa***t, and my sister's defense of him has always been well, he's just kidding.

my lover and i dance to old music in a tiny kitchen. we judge new music together and take food critique very seriously. we watch love is blind before we fall asleep and agree that if they had a queer season, it would be bloody but also make for excellent tv. of fucking course queer people would know someone for only 2 weeks and agree to get married. what are you saying.

at a bar with friends, a man puts his hand on my wrist. got a boyfriend? and yes, i do have a boyfriend, she's amazing. i am texting her while i wander around a gas station named after geese. i am visiting a swing state for a wedding. in the candy aisle i overhear: she's actually like a lesbian it's disgusting. two teenage girls with packaged sandwiches in their hands, giggling. no literally, like. i'm not, like. okay with her being there while we're all, like, naked and changing.

my girlfriend and i tailgate, drink gin and cider out of cups. from the frat group beside us, a man corrects himself with one of his friends: bro, i mean, nonbinary entity, and it makes everyone around him laugh, myself included. he razzes his friend the same way i would have killed for at 19 years old - like nothing happened, he continues: you apply sunscreen like an alien. he does a little sassy (and fairly accurate) dance interpretation of the motion. his friend is laughing so hard they're crying.

i am lucky, i live in a safe neighborhood in a safe state. my masc passenger princess comes up from DC. i drive her for an hour to where all the leaves are a violent arrangement of color. we walk along the trails, letting autumn into our blood. in this part of the state, there's a lot of pickup trucks and trump signs. when we chastely kiss before getting into the car, i accidentally make eye contact with a woman holding her child's wrist. she looks disgusted. she looks fucking pissed.

two hours later my girl and i are eating dinner on a patio, soaking in the last warmth of new england sun before the chill of winter sets in. we are giggling and trying to talk through plastic vampire teeth. at another table, i see a young woman sit up straighter. i watch her watch us. she blushes and takes her partner's hand from across the table. shy, like the taste of evening has just become something deeper.

it's worth it for this moment, i think. my lover is still humming the same song she's been singing for four days straight and i don't want to kill her for it. her guitar is beside my bed. her toothbrush is in my bathroom. in a few moments i will make us lunch. we are lucky enough to have found each other. it is lucky enough to be in love.

[druid-for-hire]

[image id: a four-page comic. it is titled "immortality” after the poem by clare harner (more popularly known as “do not stand at my grave and weep”). the first page shows paleontologists digging up fossils at a dig. it reads, “do not stand at my grave and weep. i am not there. i do not sleep.” page two features several prehistoric creatures living in the wild. not featured but notable, each have modern descendants: horses, cetaceans, horsetail plants, and crocodilians. it reads, “i am a thousand winds that blow. i am the diamond glints on snow. i am the sunlight on ripened grain. i am the gentle autumn rain.” the third page shows archaeopteryx in the treetops and the skies, then a modern museum-goer reading the placard on a fossil display. it reads, “when you awaken in the morning’s hush, i am the swift uplifting rush, of quiet birds in circled flight. i am the soft stars that shine at night. do not stand at my grave and cry.” the fourth page shows a chicken in a field. it reads, “i am not there. i did not die” / end id]

a comic i made in about 15 hours for my school’s comic anthology. the theme was “evolution”

[deyageka]

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No srsly I can’t believe they’ve actually done this:

(+)

[pokimoko]

Asexual bird? Please

How about two asexual birds?

[malinaa]

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

[hinamie]

spiraling

[chloesimaginationthings]

Vanessa TOTALLY got those Tapes for the FNAF lore..

[spielzeugkaiser]

Being on the nostalgia train this week really helped stretching my artistic legs again. So here, have some old things and some new! For now I'm done with this.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The girls are back (from the grave)

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[nenayaquisieras]

my brain is saying 141 with a reader that sees dead people. like they notice how respectful she is to the dead. when she kills she moves the bodies, sometimes says a small prayer to herself. they see her looking at things that aren’t there. “Did you see that? Never mind.” or she mentions she feels something weird in the air, or something wrong. talks to the team about the sleep paralysis she gets, always leaving out the grayish dark figure that accompanies her on those nights.

She’s never told anyone until she got drunk enough to were she’s literally laughing saying

“oh yea i see dead people.” And the guys obv think she’s joking and egg her on about said dead people she sees. but then she tells them about the entities that follow them, the people they’ve killed, always following them around. some are very angry, she feels their malicious intentions. ends up describing them in grave detail, they way they looked, what they wore, the last words they spoke before her teammates pulled the trigger. Something that only THEY would know.

“oh man, let me tell you about Gilbert my sleep paralysis demon. I swear he’s been visiting me more and more recently.”

[inkskinned]

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

[pencilscratchins]

to everyone asking when i’m gonna post art again… hey guys i recently acquired six incredibly large clown paintings so i’m sort of booked at the moment

[somnimagus]

My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.

[id in alt text]

[ultravioletbrit]

“celebrate” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 432 words

“James?” Regulus asks nervously.

“Yes, love?”

“Do you… would you… I wanted…” Regulus fumbles over his words.

“Reg?” James puts his hand on Regulus’ bouncing knee and Regulus takes a deep breath.

“I didn’t know if maybe��� if you wanted to do something… special on Friday?” Regulus forces the question out, trying not to sound as stupid as he feels.

“Oh…err… sure, if you want.” James looks a little confused. “Any particular reason you want to do something Friday?” James asks, and now Regulus feels really stupid.

This is Regulus’ longest relationship. He’s never made it to six months, and he didn’t know what to expect. Maybe six months isn’t as important as he thought. But it feels important to Regulus, and he just wanted to do a nice dinner or something. But now he feels stupid for even bringing it up.

“Err… no… erm…” Regulus shakes his head and stands up from the couch. “Never mind.” He mumbles and starts to walk away.

James catches his wrist and pulls him back down beside him.

“Hey, no. I just didn’t know if there was a reason you wanted to do something Friday?” James asks again.

“No. It’s stupid. Never mind.” Regulus tries to stand up again but of course, James doesn’t let him get far, pulling him even closer this time.

“We can definitely do something Friday.” James tells him, rubbing circles on the back of Regulus’ hands. “For our anniversary, right?” James asks.

Regulus shrugs pathetically, looking down at his lap. James lifts a hand to Regulus’ chin and tilts his head up.

“I was only curious if there was a reason you wanted to celebrate on Friday, that’s all.” James says sweetly.

“Erm… because it’s our anniversary?” Regulus says, confused because didn’t they just establish that?

“Our anniversary’s on Saturday.” James says simply.

“No. It’s Friday.” Regulus corrects him.

“No. It’s Saturday.” James says with a little chuckle.

“James, you asked me out on the 8th.” Regulus tells him.

“Yeah… but you didn’t say ‘yes’ until the 9th.”

“I… oh.” Is all Regulus can manage to say.

“Now,” James says and pulls Regulus onto his lap. “I have some surprises planned for Saturday, but we can absolutely celebrate on Friday also.”

“No. That’s stupid.” Regulus mumbles as he buries himself in James’ chest, hiding his face that is probably several shades of red.

“Nope. We’re doing it!” James says excitedly. “And I’m disappointed with myself that I didn’t think of it first. So…” James starts talking about what they should do on Friday and Regulus feels so stupidly happy as he cuddles impossibly closer to James.

[stil-lindigo]

you wonder why I'm bitter?

[serendippertyy]

aksjdjdjf if you’re still taking requests for these maybe a D4 cheesepie?

the sillies :] 🩷🤎🩷🤎