Honestly the cliche advice is true. If you fill your life w things you’re passionate about, if you challenge yourself every day, if you give your own opinion of yourself more weight than you do other people’s opinions of you, you will actually thrive. Like no one can tell u anything
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what'd she mean by that 🤔 missed the vtmb vampire lesbians so
pandora (girl with beanie) belongs to @napelf
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SLEEPSOMNIA!
A short comic about comorbidity rates between autism and various sleep disorders, from autistic people's own reports and accounts of their experiences.
I originally made this for #asdcomictakeover 2023, but my schedule was woeful and I didn't get it finished until many months after autistic acceptance month. But I figured I should have it somewhere on the internet before 2024 rolls around. Thanks for reading! Please understand that I'm just one person and I'm by no means a medical authority. This is not a diagnostic tool, but it does highlight the reality that many autistic people face with chronically disordered sleep patterns. I hope it can help for autistic people to seek help and feel understood if they fall into these comorbidities.
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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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NSFW; MINORS DNI
Thinking abt sensitive fem!reader who insists that she’s perfectly fine with being degraded, she wants it to happen, wants to experience what it feels like with Miguel. He’s hesitant, he dislikes saying things like that to his significant other even during sex but he does want her to explore on what she does and doesn’t like.
He’s splitting her open on his thick length slowly, her nestled firmly in his lap, his chest flush to her back. She’s squirming, gasping and trying to adjust as he carefully sinks into her, inch by inch.
“Poor baby,” he croons in her ear, big hands playing with her breasts, “dumb little whore can’t take all of my big cock, huh?” His hips snap up cruely, shoving the rest of himself deeper. She’s whimpering while he mumbles filthy shit like “you’re such a stupid bitch, can’t think when your insides are getting stuffed like this, yeah?” and “Want my cum? You'll have to beg for it, fuckin' slut" and all kinds of other mean stuff and she just cant help it :(.
She bursts into tears, sniffling and trying to wipe them away bc she’s trying to have a good time, but it’s all just getting really overwhelming. Miguel notices instantly — of course he does. He's immediately all over her, asking if she's okay, if she needs him to stop and pull out before she just shakes her head and tells him that it was just too much. he asks her what she wants to do for the rest of the night and she just asks him to be sweet.
sweet. he can do that.
he ends up spending the rest of the night pampering her thoroughly, making sure that she feels good and putting his own feelings second. soothing quiet moans with kisses, large palms holding her securely, gently -- anything she wants. miguel is nothing if not a thorough man, giving his gorgeous girl whatever she wants, however she wants. although, granted that doesn't mean he doesn't get off from watching her pretty face contort with pleasure.
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I don't think Belos is taking it very well
First part (You are here) >> Next Part
First batch of this little series, inspired by @petitprincess1's idea! I couldn't get this scenario out of my head so of course I drew it.
Get ready because it will have at least 8 pages! Probably my longest comic yet
There will be some angst but the violence will overall be canon-typical!
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