#imagine my FUCKING LIFE
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
cenpede · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
My favorite horse girl 🥰 I love him so much I’d treat him soooo so right Arthur Morgan call m-
463 notes · View notes
proselles · 3 months ago
Text
alex hirsch was really just so pissed that no one saw his epic old man yaoi that he went and wrote a whole new book and made a whole website specifically to show meticulous evidence that this weird old man fucked a triangle.
he really said what were ford and bill really doing in that pocket dimension they shared, hm? did you ever think of that? oh - you think it was just chess? hm. interesting. i dont.
the ultimate rare pair shipper. i have never seen a creator do this before. absolutely fascinating at every angle.
9K notes · View notes
noknowshame · 2 years ago
Text
why is religious Christmas imagery all so joyful and pleasant? where is the inherent horror of the birth of Christ? A mother is handed her newborn child, wailing and innocent. Her hands come away sticky. Red. Simply by giving her son life she has already killed him. He is doomed from the beginning. Her love will not save him from suffering. Because the thing cradled in her arms is not a baby, it is a sacrifice: born amongst the other bleating animals whose blood will one day be spilled in the name of what demands it. the night is silent with anticipation. Mary, did you know? That your womb was also a grave?
151K notes · View notes
inkskinned · 1 year ago
Text
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.
#writeblr#warm up#this is longer than i wanted i really considered removing that part about myself and what i went thru#but i think it really fucking bothers me that EVERY time i talk about being an artist#ppl assume i just like. had the skill and ability to drop everything and pay for grad school.#like sir i grew up poor. my house wasn't a safe space. i gave up a FREE RIDE TO LAW SCHOOL. for THIS. bc i chose it.#was it fucking hard? was i choosing the hard thing?? yes.#but we need to stop seeing artists as lazy layabouts that can ''afford'' to just ''sit around and create''#when MANY - if not MOST - of us are NOT like that. we have to work our fucking ASSES off. hard work. long and hard work#part of valuing artists is recognizing the amount we sacrifice to make our art. bc it doesn't just#like HAPPEN to us. also btw it rarely has anything to do with true talent.#speaking as someone with a chronic condition i hate when ppl are like u have it easy. like actively as i'm writing this my hands r#ACTIVELY hurting me. i haven't been posting bc my left hand was curled in a claw for the last week#this isn't fucking luck. after a certain point it's not even TALENT. it's dedication & sacrifice.#''u get to flounce around and do nothing with ur life'' is a narrative that is a direct result of capitalism#imagine if we said that about literally any other profession.#''oh so u give up 10 yrs of ur life to be a doctor? u sacrifice having a social life and u get SUPER in debt?#u need to work countless hours and it will often be thankless? well i wish i was that lucky''#we should be applying that logic to landlords ONLY#''oh ur mom and dad gave u the money to buy a house? and all u did was paint it white and rent it? huh.''
11K notes · View notes
vaperarmand · 11 months ago
Text
ever since i was a little girl i knew i wanted to speculate about the sexual and romantic undertones of celebrities’ professional relationships
6K notes · View notes
tubbytarchia · 11 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
so ranchers huh
5K notes · View notes
sharkylad · 3 months ago
Text
Thinking about the fact that Mabel and Dipper didn't know they had two great uncles.
Yeah they are 12 and at 12 I had a shotty understanding of my family tree- But really? Nobody brought up their great uncle? Stanley? Especially since they'll be staying with his twin brother, Stanford?
Shermie never went to Stan's fake funeral, which to me means the twos relationship was strained on some level. If Shermie is older that means his view of Stan was poisoned in some way, that even as kids they weren't close. If the Shermie is younger then he never even got to meet Stan and all he knew about him was how he failed his family. Hell, people probably barely mentioned Stanley TO Shermie.
The fact that Stan had become a black stain upon the Pines family name makes me so vividly upset. Stanley faked his death and the family just- seemingly decided to strike him from the record. To pretend he didn't existed to spare themselves the sadness and shame.
Stanford and Shermie Pines. The only children worth mentioning of Filbrick and Caryn Pines.
It was never Stanford that was lost to the world. It was Stanley, ever since he had to leave New Jersy- it was always him that had to be struck from the record. Change his name, change his state, change his affiliations, destroy the remains of ghost that was Stanley Pines. Kill him so the family doesn't bring him up, doesn't ask questions, stops asking "Stanford" about his twin.
I just keep thinking about the fact that since the day he made one single mistake all the way up until Ford walks out of that machine- Stanley Pines was killed and did not exist. And Stan himself had no one to blame, he had to play the part in his own demise- He is the only one who ever knew Stanley was alive and has been for decades.
He lives in the multitudes of every personality he's ever taken, all in the hope that he himself can stop being Stanley Pines.
#gravity falls#grunkle stan#stanley pines#STANLEYYYYYY#STANLEY THEY COULD NEVER MAKE ME HATE YOU STANLEY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#sharky rants#Just. Imagine the fucking shame you have to live with#the shame that you can never be yourself. That anything you were is unwanted and forgotten#The shame of just BEING- Of taking space of- of /breathing-/#Imagine the world; your friend; your family; your colleagues being so ashamed of having known you#that you feel more comfortable with a persona to present.#You feel more comfortable stealing the identity of someone you care for deeply if only to help#If only to feel capable for once. To feel like you belong- Like youre doing something good for once#Imagine the shame that brings you to be comfortable not being yourself for 40 years.#ALL CASE YOU BROKE ONE FUCKING PROJECT??????? COME ON#I mean- the deeprooted shame was started from earlier. He was 'the stupid twin“; 'the troublemaker”; “the cheat and thief”#This was a long time coming#But those werent MISTAKES- The one time he genuinely made a Mistake he lost everything#Like he really mattered so little to the people around him#and he cant really blame them.#My cousin is a genius. Hes smart and academically achieved since I was a baby.#The only thing I had that he didnt was my ability to draw. to be creative. The guy for the longest time had a better social life then me too#I used to get brought to tears seeing his accomplishments- seeing people praise him. The shame lived in me any time I had to see him#The shame that I was the black sheep of the family next to the golden standard for a son- for a student- for a friend.#when I was none of those things#And Im lucky he was my cousin- cause if he was my brother that would have haunted me EVERY DAY rather then once or twice a year#Im better with it now; Im more content with who I am- But trauma dump aside-#I very very very much understand Stans shame in being the stupid one. The unachieved one in a family full of achieved people#the shame thats angry at him for being better. at the family for treating him special. and most of all at yourself that you cant be better#its a visceral feeling that I sadly understand
905 notes · View notes
Text
You don’t understand what this means to me, Vi and Caitlyn get to be together. I get to imagine all their happiness together: Caitlyn gets to apologize, Vi gets to wake up next to Caitlyn every day and go to sleep next to her every night, Caitlyn doesn’t have to fill that hole anymore either, they get to kiss softly and make love, they get to comfort each other when they have nightmares, they get to call each other pet names and tease each other, they get to fight by each other’s side, Cait gets to tell Vi she loves her and Vi gets to say it back, they get to call one another out when either one slips, they get to balance each other, they get to be a mundane couple and sit by the fire place together and eat together, and everyone gets to see them be the power couple they are. Despite all the pain, they get each other, just a little bit of happiness in a world that crushed almost everyone else’s.
512 notes · View notes
sheerakk · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
3K notes · View notes
vellichorom · 2 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
you sick little animal, even death itself pities you.
541 notes · View notes
edwinisms · 5 months ago
Text
george rexstrew deserves awards for many things but i have to say. edwin’s bloodcurdling scream as niko gets killed deserves a whole award unto itself. like. that scream did not feel at all like a tv show scream. to a somewhat jarring degree. and i can’t express how much I respect that
770 notes · View notes
98chao · 4 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
(smacks roof of white lily cookie) This cookie can fit so much guilt inside her
1K notes · View notes
lotus-pear · 4 months ago
Text
soukoku shippers can NEVER come after kunizai now with the excuse of them having no angst i think they honestly win tragic yaoi of the year award WAIT UNTIL DAZAI HEARS HIS PARTNER GOT TURNED INTO A 7/11 $2.50 FROST GLACIER SLUSHIE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
858 notes · View notes
opens-up-4-nobody · 3 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Suspirium - Thom York
512 notes · View notes
pallanophblargh · 13 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
Apologies, I’m justifiably livid and will be for… who knows how long.
Before I can find a way to put that to good use, here’s an equally angry sketch.
Rage against the dying of the light.
299 notes · View notes
keferon · 4 months ago
Note
*clasps your shoulders gently and looks you straight in the eye*
Keferon. Please read Ninth by Kyn on AO3. I think you would love it very much. It has a large chapter count, but don't be intimidated, it's very easy to get into. It is currently unfinished, but is being updated regularly.
You are the seventh person that recommended this fic to me so ahahahaha yeah
I’m doing great Help I hate some parts of it but I love the other parts I’m spinning in the blender
…..I made the moodboard….
Tumblr media
#chapter 37#of 120 or something#I must be like 90k words in haha#large word count is not an intimidation. It’s an invitation haha#I love the fics that I can’t read in just one hour:)#I gotta say I don’t enjoy the concept of making robots into organic life#it’s just my preference#seeing them as humans or animals or whatever feels so fucking wrong#the concept itself drives me off#like. Strongly#But at the same time. This fic isn’t about them being ‘haha cute organics’#it’s ‘oh god. I was turned into something I’m not’#instead of teeheee they’re fluffy#it’s please free me from this fucking nightmare. please let me be myself again.#idk how to explain. I resonate I guess#it often feels very disturbing but the characters are also disturbed#So now I’m kind of stuck reading this fic because I just can’t stop lol#just politely skipping the parts that make me too uncomfortable#also#the body horror is….damn. Impressive. I didn’t expect to read about grotesque fleshy creature turning itself inside out#it’s not even aesthetic or symbolic#it literally looks like a fucking nightmare. Which is impressive also.#the flesh is g r o s s#the beginning got me struggling and skipping#but the intermission is currently ruining my sleep schedule#oh fuck….I usually send my posts to the authors of the fics I read…..but I feel like I might offend the author of Ninth if do this……..#there’s a tiny chance they’re following me….if it’s true then I wanna tell I’m sorry pls don’t take this seriously#your fic got me waay out of my comfort zone#huge points for writing Ratchet. Drift in this fic is…the grossest fucking thing I could probably imagine but Ratchet doesn’t even hesitate#he helps him and he cares for him. Which is…..imma be real my first instinct would be to set Drift on fire to end his misery
330 notes · View notes