If i ever have a kid i hope they come out to me as transmasc so i can tell them "like father like son" and be the funniest person alive
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This wretched bloodline ends with me
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I like to think that Vulcans who come to understand that Humans just can’t try to process emotions the same way as them, it’s just healthiest to let it out in harmless ways, decide that venting and stuff should be taken just as seriously as Vulcan’s meditation time, and will encourage the Humans around them to complain about what’s upsetting them
People who are used to aloof Vulcans who avoid Humans at all cost running into one comforting a Human
“-and then they said my cheesecake was subpar, and they didn’t even bring a dish!!!”
“The purpose of this event was that every participant brings a food item of sorts, correct?”
“Yeah!!”
“And they did not follow this rule while insulting dishes that were brought?”
“Mostly just my dish but yeah >:(“
“How illogical”
“That’s what I’m saying!!!”
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Those r/nosleep rules horror posts have a completely different vibe after having to take care of relatives' kids, cause I've had moments where I've been temoeted to draft lists just like those when I have to head out and need my parents to take ove, and it'd include things like one specific chair needing to always face a certain direction and proper protocol for passing water
It's not like the house is the domain of the fae or has a demon bound by domestic rituals, these kids just like things a particular way and some of these rules exist to account for tomfoolery they'll try to pull in my absence
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probably time for this story i guess but when i was a kid there was a summer that my brother was really into making smoothies and milkshakes. part of this was that we didn't have AC and couldn't afford to run fans all day so it was kind of important to get good at making Cool Down Concoctions.
we also had a patch of mint, and he had two impressionable little sisters who had the attitude of "fuck it, might as well."
at one point, for fun, this 16 year old boy with a dream in his eye and scientific fervor in heart just wanted to see how far one could push the idea of "vanilla mint smoothie". how much vanilla extract and how much mint can go into a blender before it truly is inedible.
the answer is 3 cups of vanilla extract, 1/2 cup milk alternative, and about 50 sprigs (not leaves, whole spring) of mint. add ice and the courage of a child. idk, it was summer and we were bored.
the word i would use to describe the feeling of drinking it would maybe be "violent" or perhaps, like. "triangular." my nose felt pristine. inhaling following the first sip was like trying to sculpt a new face. i was ensconced in a mesh of horror. it was something beyond taste. for years after, i assumed those commercials that said "this is how it feels to chew five gum" were referencing the exact experience of this singular viscous smoothie.
what's worse is that we knew our mother would hate that we wasted so much vanilla extract. so we had to make it worth it. we had to actually finish the drink. it wasn't "wasting" it if we actually drank it, right? we huddled around outside in the blistering sun, gagging and passing around a single green potion, shivering with disgust. each sip was transcendent, but in a sort of non-euclidean way. i think this is where i lost my binary gender. it eroded certain parts of me in an acidic gut ecology collapse.
here's the thing about love and trust: the next day my brother made a different shake, and i drank it without complaint. it's been like 15 years. he's now a genuinely skilled cook. sometimes one of the three of us will fuck up in the kitchen or find something horrible or make a terrible smoothie mistake and then we pass it to each other, single potion bottle, and we say try it it's delicious. it always smells disgusting. and then, cerimonious, we drink it together. because that's what family does.
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in which shadow cared !! (again)
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Hey so when do we stop enduring so that we can try reaching our life goals? Oh? Never? I just gotta be constantly braced for the horrors forever?
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Cerberus, 2022
I cannot believe I never posted this, as it's one of my favorite art pieces I've done in years. A painting of my darling nephew, Buckley.
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Little things adults and older people can do to help younger people and children feel included, safe, and respected as an equal individual:
Ask before touching the young person - even for hugs. Ask before you take pictures of them, and let them see photographs of them before they are printed or sent to others (even family).
Apologize when you are wrong
Ask for a young persons thoughts on a subject, then engage with them after they have spoken
Demonstrate behaviour you want to see from them (see: apologizing). Say "excuse me," say "thank you," say "please" to them
Validate their feelings, even if they don't know how to express them just yet
Remember that this is the first time they've been alive, and that you've had way longer to "figure it out"
These are some things I wish other adults remembered when engaging with young folks. We so often forget what childhood felt like and how unfair it all was because we were often awarded freedoms as adults that we never had as children. These kids are equal to adults, and they deserve the same courtesy, respect, kindness, and understanding we give to other adults.
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trying to teach myself emotional regulation after a lifetime of being taught (mostly through violence) that the only mature way to handle my emotions is to not feel them at all is i'll admit a little hysterical. every day i have to hold my own hand and go now are you going to be a big boy and acknowledge your feelings? it's okay if you don't acknowledge all of them but i need you to at least try alright? if you finish acknowledging your feelings we can go out for ice cream shakes later, how does that sound?
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okay let’s do a for and against on how likely it is charles will die before he’s been king for a year
against
he was coronated on the 16th of may, we’re in feb now. it’s unlikely he won’t get another 6 months at least because
he has access to the best medical care in the world. no way this wasn’t discovered immediately - giving him the best chance of success
for
hes sooooo old
trisha paytas’s baby is due in may. may has 31 days meaning it’s pretty much an even split chance that she’ll give birth before the 16th
centuries of incest doesn’t just make you ugly, it also SERIOUSLY fucks your health. the best doctors in the world can’t fix genetics that battered
the press don’t know shit. if it were just a melanoma that could be easily cut out the palace would have said so
if manifesting is at all real he’s fucked
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pov: it’s the mid 2000s and you’re learning what love is
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Sonamy but they’re scene & emo again
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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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