"hey what are you drawing" "my oc looking slightly to the left"
international womens day today
dont forget to include trans women, disabled women, women of colour, non-binary people who partly identify as women, queer women, all women.all of them. i don’t want to see any derailed posts today about shit like “international mens day” it doesnt fly like that
"so do you have a boyfriend?"
I begin to sweat, fumbling. I’m trying to shove them back into my pockets but it’s too late. thousands upon thousands of pictures of godzilla spill from my hands and into the floor, covered in kiss marks. there are so many.
don’t buy that “love is a serious word” crap, love freely, love carelessly, love yourself, love that lady bird that just flew past, love that cutie that served you lunch at a cafe that you’ll probably never see again, love every single cat you see and when you stop loving someone or something, don’t fight it. i don’t know what love is but i know it’s not serious.
being “cute” is really hard because even when youre angry people just kinda giggle at you and say “aw youre so cute when youre angry.” no. stop. recognize my power.
we had guests round tonight and i made dinner i’ve never cooked for anyone other than family so i was worried but everyone said they liked it i’m so pleased
I’ll never forget the first time I saw this scene. It broke my heart.
Goddammit right now
Taking some time to enjoy my new little sketchbook.
This is really intense for me, because this is exactly what artist’s block feels like. You’ve got color all around you, all over you, inside of you, in your fucking soul, and you can’t get it out on that canvas, that sketchpad, that digital screen that just sits there and yawns, white and infinite in front of you like an enemy, or worse, like a lover you can’t hold because they’re too far away. You sense what you could do if the lines and shapes and colors would come to you, but it all stays just beyond your straining fingers, no matter how hard you reach for it. It’s worse than a sense of your own inadequacy; it’s fear and it’s pain, and it’s everything you feel like you could accomplish but can’t because somehow, the colors won’t transfer from your hands, from your being, onto that white surface. You can’t paint. You can’t even begin.
no one is allowed to be sad today.
the breathless laughter of the onlookers is almost as adorable as the otters themselves
oh my gOD
Portal 2 - Concept Art
ppl my age have children what the hell i am a children
"women shouldnt have leg hair" haha nice try you fucking piece of shit youre just afraid minell be longer than yours this is a contest and im in it to win it