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KIROKAZE
we're not kids anymore.
Game of Thrones Daily

shark vs the universe

Love Begins
Stranger Things
dirt enthusiast
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Peter Solarz
styofa doing anything

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祝日 / Permanent Vacation

JVL
art blog(derogatory)

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
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Discoholic 🪩
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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@itsshaydarling
Stop volunteering to be the village sacrifice we all know you're not a virgin. The dragon probably wouldn't even be into you.
Untie yourself from that altar right now.
Look. I didn't want to say anything because it's kind of a touchy subject, but the dragon doesn't actually take these "brides" back to its lair full of riches and add them to a harem. Okay? It's a big fucking lizard with a brain the size of an orange, it just roasts and eats them.
That's why we always pick the most useless airhead to sacrifice come harvest season.
Now come on, get those chains off. Where did you even get these? Oh you made them? See that's the kind of craftsmanship the village needs you for. We'll have a big orgy after the ritual and if you want a bunch of us will dress up as dragons and take turns having a go at you. It'll be nice, you'll see.
Yes, yes, I know, not the same. Well not all dreams are attainable, in the end.
Look, it's simple. If a person has to actively work to make money, they're not "the rich" and they're not the problem. A surgeon making $200k a year still stops making money if they stop showing up to do surgery, because they're still selling their labor. The radical discrepancies in how we value different skills are certainly a problem, but the guy who makes money when he doesn't even get out of bed is the one making money on the value of other people's labor.
I think it sucks that you have to go to so many different kinds of doctor to take care of yourself. It's the 21st century. I should be able to go to a single office where they scan me with a big xerox machine and tell me what I'm allergic to and why my tummy hurts and if I have any cancer or cavities or if my glasses prescription has changed. And then I should get a sticker.
This amount of individualism is exactly whats gonna kill us all btw
So people can’t go a couple of hours without eating nuts??? Wtf.
we need to invent a way to explain how deep running and pervasive and subliminal racism and antiblackness is without immediately sounding like an insane conspiracy theorist
female characters are always lighter than male characters. strong characters are almost always dark. aggressive characters are almost always dark. peaceful and intelligent characters are almost always light. even amongst darker characters the lightest one is usually either the leader or the girls. dark is evil and light is good.
if you try to explain this to a white person they look at you like youre insane
briefly pursuing a career in animation radicalized me on this. So many stories from the industry about how you have to start with your character design as dark as possible, because INEVITABLY you'll get "notes" from higher-ups asking you to make them lighter.
In a class about making a pitch bible my teacher once role-played as a shitty executive with a classmate, pressing them in intentionally abrasive ways about why they made their characters diverse. He emphasized that we had to learn to defend these things, because the racism in the industry is extremely deliberate.
Ronald Wimberly's comic essay, Lighten Up, stays evergreen
“Blank checks for hype.” Chefs kiss 😚👌🏼
34 and ready to score!
the songs i hum under my breath
i don’t always notice i’m doing it. it’s a soft, breathy sound that starts without my permission, a little melody escaping like a quiet sigh. while i’m washing dishes, staring out a rainy window, or walking to the corner store, a tune will surface. it’s never a full song with all the words, just a fragment of the chorus, or a particular instrumental line that got stuck in my heart. these aren’t always the songs i love the most in a conscious way, but they are the ones my subconscious chooses to keep on a gentle loop.
the curious thing is that if you asked me to sit down and sing one of these songs properly, i might stumble over the lyrics. the words aren’t the point. the meaning has been stripped away, leaving only the pure, melodic feeling. the hum is the essence of the song, its emotional fingerprint. it’s the part that bypassed my brain and went straight to my muscles, to the rhythm of my breath and the beat of my heart.
sometimes, the tune is a ghost from a long time ago. a children’s television theme i haven’t heard in ten years, or a pop song that was everywhere one summer, now reduced to a five-note pattern. it’s funny how the mind holds onto these things, how it polishes a forgotten memory into a simple, hummable stone and presents it back to me during a quiet moment. it feels like a message from a past version of myself, a soft echo saying, "remember this feeling?"
other times, it’s the soundtrack to a recent emotion. after a difficult, tearful conversation, i might find myself humming a slow, melancholic ballad, my breath giving sound to the ache i can’t quite articulate. or after a moment of quiet joy, a light, skipping tune will bubble up, a private celebration for a happiness that felt too fragile to share out loud. my hum becomes a barometer for my inner weather, a more honest one than the expression i might wear on my face.
there’s a deep comfort in this private ritual. singing out loud feels like a performance, even if i’m alone. it requires intention, pitch, breath control. but humming… humming is just for me. it’s a self-soothing sound, a vocal nest i’m building for my own spirit. the vibration in my chest is a gentle massage for my anxieties, a way of reminding my body that it can still make something soft, something harmless and beautiful, even on a hard day.
i think these hummed songs are a map of my inner life. if someone could ever record them all, they would have a collection of my most unguarded moments. they would see the landscape of my nostalgia, the shape of my sadness, the color of my small, secret joys. it’s a playlist curated not by choice, but by feeling, and it’s far more honest than any i could ever make on purpose.
so i let the hum continue. i don’t try to trace its origin every time, or force it into a full performance. it’s enough that it’s there, a quiet, tuneless tune under my breath, a little thread of music stitching my ordinary moments together. it’s my spirit’s way of whispering to itself, a constant, gentle reminder that even in the silence, there is still a song.
— R.