my friend told me that her boyfriend got her a super cool rock while they were on vacation together and you would not BELIEVE my disappointment when i realized she was talking about her engagement ring
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um . warning now that tumblr is allowing gif pfps . PLEASE dont use gifs with flashing or eyestraining colours <3 since the gifs Cannot be turned off it WILL negatively affect photosensitive people
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I am BEGGING yall to remember that "gay panic" means "i killed this person because theyre gay so you cant jail me for it" and NOT "UwU too gay to function"
Yall CANNOT reclaim this one please stop trying
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im being extremely serious, something needs to be done about the brightness of car headlights, its an active public safety hazard. and as far as regulatory measures go, this seems like something with a (comparatively) very easy fix....? yeah conservatives will be all "come and take it" about it but they do that with literally fucking everything bc petulant commitment to making a culture war out of any regulation or mandated changes.
its insane that we've all just collectively accepted that its normal and fine that someone driving a standard sized 4 door sedan will be momentarily blinded by the EYE-LEVEL blue-white LED headlights on the latest model of the suburbitank Pedestrian Pulverizer 3000 or whatever the fuck
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ppl who r using poll results as a way to Prove Something about society or come to any conclusion.. i hope you are aware that tumblr users are one of the most biased population groups you could conceivably find. gob bless
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god i love little kids, they're like aliens, they're so bizarre.
i hung out with some pre-k kids today and told them my birthday was yesterday and it was absolutely Not Computing to them that i didn't get presents so they were bringing me random shit (pinecone, tiny rock, crust from sandwich, some smushed blades of grass, etc etc) and one kid brought me a handful of sand and as he was holding it out to show me how shiny it was, noticed there was an ant in it, and his instinct for some fucking reason was to lean down and suck in a mouthful of the sand/ant???????? and sent himself into a coughing fit. literally what and why the fuck would anyone do that
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WOO, finally got this ref chart together! the art's actually kinda old by now (I started this back in february) but I didn't feel like redrawing everything outside outfit changes sooooo,,,,,my apologies 😅 here's the main cast! you can find individual refs in this masterpost
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if ur having a bad day here is some fairy dust (i’m sprinkling it onto you) ⋆。°✩ ⋆⁺。˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚。⁺⋆ ✩°。⋆ .・゜゜・ ・゜゜・. 。・゚゚ 。・:*˚:✧。
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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.
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What are the girl foods atm? Like what are all the hot girls eating to feel hot and amazing? Genuine question…
im not 16
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