#i know how it feels
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youtube
I Know How It Feels - Marcene Dimples Harris (A Song To You / I Know How It Feels, 1971)
#Soul#Soul Music#Soul Music Songs#Music#Music Songs#Marcene Dimples Harris#I Know How It Feels#1971#Romark#Youtube
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I made a sprite thing of Ethan wearing big jacket a while back.
He looks so comfy! Also hey, it's convenient. Sometimes it's what he needs to feel at his peak. Especially at the month thing I mentioned a while back.
I also headcanon that sometimes he messes up doing the laundry, so this jacket might've been red at first.
#trainer ethan#specifically the hgss version#ethan kogane#kogane hibiki#My sweet boy... I'm sorry that the monthly gut punch has to hurt#i know how it feels#owchie#but hey at least you got big jacket to help you
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Using my fictionkins’ names is all fun and games until an rp blog gets annoyed you are using the name of the character their blog is about. Ffs people, it’s not an obscure source so there will be others who use the character’s name, even if they aren’t fictionkin like me.
I am disappointed, as you can tell. It’s happened multiple times now, just let me bask in my identity without being yelled down.
-An annoyed fictionkin
People sometimes think a character belongs to them and only them and get angry when someone who is like the character in a way isn't theirs? That's how I can explain it but yeah. Im not a psychologist or anything
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really cute how Letterboxd is just another oscar isaac stan lol
#girl i get u#i KNOW how it feels#oscar isaac#oscar isaac hernandez estrada#actors#letterboxd#twitter
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I wanna add my two cents to this.
Teens are not adults... But they are also not children, they are teens, an entire different category.
Don't treat teens like adults, but dON'T TREAT THEM LIKE CHILDREN EITHER.
I PREFER for people to have their ages in their bios because of the controversial content I post sometimes, but I don't block people who don't have their age. Wanna know why? Two reasons.
People LIE. PEOPLE LIE. YOU CAN TYPE ANY NUMBER AND THERE IS NO WAY TO KNOW IF IT'S REAL.
And NO ONE, NO ONE, needs to know ANYTHING about you. No name, no age, no place of residence, of birth, school, nothing.
YOU OWE NO ONE ANY INFORMATION ABOUT YOU.
I'm the first born in my family, I raised my siblings, befriended their friends, helped everyone with their homework, gave them advice, listened to their problems, their traumas, their crushes.
I babysitted and nannied. I took care of my younger cousins, neighbours' kids.
I was bullied by most of my classmates so I hung out with kids from the lower grades a lot, was in extracurriculars with kids much younger. And guess what. Never has anything been creepy. I have the full trust of their parents because, oh my God, who would have thought, being an adult doesn't automatically make you a creep.
Groundbreaking.
Hell, I know there's PLENTY of minors following me. Here and in my other accounts. I was those minors too.
I will never "get rid" of the kids that came to me for conversations about our favorite characers, favorite manga, headcanons, fanfics we like, music we enjoy, hobbies we have.
I will never cut off the kids who trusted me enough to invite me into their life and give me the PRIVILEGE of learning about them and their struggles, and even allowed me to help in any way I could.
I won't abandon the teens that took a risk and told me what was on their minds and welcomed me into being a part of their growth.
If anyone wants to see me as a predator or groomer, go ahead, I know who I am and what my intentions are. I don't give a shit about what you have to say, what I care about is those kids you say you want to protect so bad yet you isolate.
#I literally don't know how to shut up do I#I think it goes without saying that teens MUST be protected#To all of you who are here even if you “shouldn't”#I know how it feels#You will always have someone to count on if you need it#DMs are always open for anything even if you just wanna share a stupid meme or your favorite headcanon#I love all of you and I hope you find the friendships you deserve#This 22 (taylor's version) year old grandma is always up to fangirl about fictional characters and laugh about how stupid parents can be ♡#Kiya babbles
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Someone just called Ranboo a little meow meow
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I do not particularly say I’m violent. The reason why I grab the girls hair like it was a fucking ragdoll was because because she was calling me a racist things and also called me a whore so we were in the halls and I saw her and I grabbed her by the hair and kicked her on her knees. It’s not violence it’s self defense.
THIS IS SO OUT OF CONTEXT WHAT!?!?!?
#marina 🐙#I'm so sorry that happened to you#I know how it feels#I was called Dora in elementary#Boots in middleschool
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Interlude : pour toi, public
Vous êtes plusieurs à m'avoir demandé : "C'est kantesse que Sexy revient dans l'histoire ?"
Ce qui à la fois me fait ultra plaisir, parce que çà veut dire que j'ai réussi à le faire exister en tant que personnage, dans une intrigue où - on va pas se mentir - c'est clairement pas lui qui fait avancer l'action
(disons qu'il est comme les trous noirs au centre des galaxies : tout tourne autour de lui, mais lui on ne le voit jamais)
et en même temps me chagrine car, mes petits lapins, on reste dans un realityblog, alors je suis bien obligée de vous répondre : "Eh ben... jamais".
Oui, je sais, à moi aussi çà m'a coûté de l'admettre, et c'était à peu près aussi agréable que de m'arracher le bras. Mais maintenant le plus dur est derrière, alors c'est pas le moment de flancher
non non, on ne fait pas le bilan de sa vie sentimentale, on ne regarde pas en bas, on ne se retourne pas, on avance, on avance, et la sortie c'est par là.
edit : entre nous, il y a bien une fin alternative à ce blog, dans laquelle Sexy et moi on se marie et on adopte, mais elle est accessible seulement sur abonnement
#feedbacks#lotr#sean astin#samwise gamgee#yes samwise#i know how it feels#to give upon THAT dream#secret crush on you#bienvenue dans un monde plus queer#whoopi goldberg#ghost best scene
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Warning!
I'm about to change my profile pic.
I'm still me, I promise.
Just trading my pumpkin for a playing card.
#I know how it feels#I too#will wonder 'Who Dis' when someone changes their pic#for at least a week#But my username is the same so that should help lol
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i do unironically think the best artists of our generation are posting to get 20 notes and 3 reblogs btw. that fanfic with like 45 kudos is some of the best stuff ever written. those OCs you carry around have some of the richest backstories and worldbuilding someone has ever seen. please do not think that reaching only a few people when you post means your art isn't worth celebrating.
#i often wonder about how many things would be considered classic or high art had they only received the marketing#how many short films that were made for class could have been the most powerful thing you'd ever seen? if you'd seen them?#“you know the greatest films of all time were never made” etc etc#but like. these works of art ARE being made. it's just enjoyed by a smaller audience with equal impact though#i think about this one furry i used to follow on insta who had the coolest worldbuilding ever. it's been years.#thought prompted by that sketch of nimona from ten years ago that was just for a character design#posted to the creator's tumblr and now it's nominated for best animated feature film at the oscars#and by the genuine emotional reaction a fan comic made me feel. how much work had gone into it. how beautiful it was to me.#idk what to tag this but i hope whoever needs to hear it does#writing#writer#fandom#fandom culture#artist
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The math just adds up!
#dungeon meshi#falin touden#marcille donato#farcille#I always loved how chapter 27 ends with them both so bloody and 28 starts with them in the bath.#not just because of how iconic the bathtub moment is but because you know they had to scrap off so much gore first.#I think everyone in the party took a very long and methodical bath but Falin was basically *all* blood*.#Being covered in blood is one of those 'just girly things' that women deserve to stop being shamed about.#I just don't think Chilchuck is progressive enough. He probably made them take a bath first B*/#Okay jestering aside I want to just highlight -#The magnitude of Marcille's joy at seeing her dearest friend again! Of holding her and sharing her presence in the same room!#Something about this reunion feels like a beautiful dream you are afraid of waking up from...
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looking at (vetted) gofundmes for people trying to escape palestine and i don't know how many of you actually click on the gofundme links you reblog but i would like to point out, for what it's worth, just how amazing it is that so many have raised so much money. it may overall feel like a drop in the ocean but the fact that several gofundmes have raised tens of thousands of dollars is amazing. it is so expensive to leave gaza right now, and people still need money after they escape. but regardless of what propaganda the US, UK, canada, and other western nations are trying to pump out, people across the world are doing what they can to help these people survive. many of them are still very far from their goals (like this one and this one and this one) and some of them are very close to high goals (like this one), and some of them have reached almost double their original goal.
and that's not even addressing direct aid or organizations that take continuous donations for distribution of food, menstrual products, etc. the PCRF has raised $16,000,000 of their target goal of $20,000,000 to fund current aid and long-term relief efforts in gaza. ANERA's febuary 13th update discusses the material ways they helped palestinians today:
(ANERA donate link)
my point is, it often feels like the world is turning a blind eye to palestine. but i would like to point out that there is an important difference between "the world" and "western political leaders and media narratives". a breathtaking amount of real people, the people who make up the world, are trying to help. in the face of israel attempting to commit genocide, the world is saying No. These people deserve to live. and literally sending millions of dollars internationally, through the internet connection that israel has desperately been trying to destroy.
it may not feel like it matters in the grand scheme of things. but to the people who get fresh clothes, or a hot meal, or blankets, or the kids who get new toys, or to the people who are able to bring their families to safety, it matters to them. go make someone's day better. i've linked so many options with ways to do that.
#free palestine#cricket chirps#palestine#gaza#if you feel overwhelmed and don't know where to begin#i recommend deciding on a total amount of money to donate (e.g. $20 $100 etc)#and deciding you will either donate it all in one place or split it between a few places#do what you can!!! it will always be helpful no matter how little#1k#5k#10k#20k
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I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.
What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.
What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.
What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.
The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.
And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.
But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.
I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.
#shut up e#long post#Saturday thoughts#this has been in my drafts for a week haha#also this is the heart of why AI art feels so wrong#forget the discussion of copyright and theft etc - even if models were only trained on public domain they would still feel very wrong#because they’re not art. art is the labor of creation#even commercial art and art commissioned by the popes and kings of history: there is humanity in the labor of it#unrelated: I did not know living in the Bronx was now something to brag about. How the fuck do y’all New Yorkers afford this city???
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DEVASTATING the lyric you've been mishearing is better than the real one
#i've been listening to icarus by bastille#and for some reason my brain fills in 'this is how it feels to take a fall' as 'this is how it feels to take off all your skin'#and like fuck man#and I KNOW that’s technically not a misheard lyric but my post my rules cope#anyway my line now#also probably phrased this poorly but its ok#im allowed to be incomprehensible#as a treat#and then fuckin#from we sink by of monsters and men#the original line was 'please look away dont look at me'#and i kept hearing it as 'please learn a way to look at me'#anyway#shoving this post in the queue but please be aware that i am writing it very late at night#q
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because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.
you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.
you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.
don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.
if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.
you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:
how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!
aren't you happy yet?
#almost wrote the champagne line as ''effervescent'' but legit could not write it without saying ''effervescent like a snail''#ah tumblr...#writeblr#warm up#idk . having trouble writing rn#ps i don't like to talk about it . it is my medical information. but before you ask. yes this is about being on the spectrum#i really don't like when ppl make my writing about how im [whatever ID]. i want it to ring true for the people who it rings true for#i don't want it to be like ''awwwww look at this person!!! she's the EXCEPTION!!! :)" .....#no.... not really.....#idk something gross happens whenever i admit to certain conditions and i turn into like inspiration p*rnography#like yes they actually let us use keyboards these days#furthermore i just... dont feel comfortable talking about this part of me. i had too bad of a childhood. adhd is one thing...#this one im like. still coming to terms with. which is like. my own journey.#idk. just please be kind. some things are more private than others. this one feels private to me.#i do not know how to help others w/this . and i do not know how to help myself. i will talk about it if im ever ready. idk if that will#actually ever happen#ty in advance i love u im kissing you we are kissing somewhere on the spectrum
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tim with a knife in his hands: damian, step away from the computer
damian reading superbat fanfiction on tim’s personal laptop: i wanted to play roblox, but this is adequate writing, are you in need of a beta reader by chance?
#damian: i made art as well#tim: i don’t know how i feel about you drawing mild nudity of our dad and his friends#damian; grow a pair - a bicep is not nudity - and besides you wrote it#dc#tim drake#damian wayne#bruce wayne#clark kent#red robin#robin#batman#superman#batfam#batbros#superbat
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