#I was there in the dark times

[stuffydollband]

Truly wild that people are like “Omg! Taylor Swift is including her new music as she tours!” Yeah, bestie. That’s what tours are. Literally it’s the whole point. What would be crazy was if she did the Wenis, because the Wenis is a dance and everybody is a genius who knows it in advance

[arcanegifs]

ARCANE LEAGUE OF LESBIANS: 2x08 - “Killing is a Cycle”

[st-hedge]

How spiders look at ur from the drain after u accidentally wash them down— I mean huh? A d(ark) (l)ink for spooky month

[anna-scribbles]

so this summer i am nannying a 5 year old who loves miraculous ladybug (my dream) & every day she asks if we can play ladybug and chat noir at the park. these are some comics based on our various games<3

[jojaxcola]

the jojamart mockumentary that constantly plays in my mind

[goopsnoot]

Here's how the Dark Urge currently looks like in my newest run, rocking that headwear ✨

Pop that hip and slay (slays in two ways)

[officialspec]

can i say something. for years i thought the joke of the song short skirt/long jacket by cake was that he wanted a woman who was hung like a horse. like i thought when he says jacket it was a last-second fakeout because he very obviously meant to say cock. and the rest of the things in the song were just her personality and interests. which were secondary to her awesome penis

[bi-writes]

ghost doesn't think he hears you correctly, not at first. there's a ringing that's still in his ears from the bullet he nearly ate earlier. (cw: dubcon, 18+)

"wot?"

"can you please please please--pretend to be my boyfriend--just for one minute--!"

"heyyy, sunshine," a nasty little voice sings. you spin around, cowering by the bar, just as someone a little too drunk and a little too big comes into your space. you scoot away from him, but he's coming closer, leaning over you, and ghost tilts his head to the side as he watches the way you flinch at the stink of his breath.

ghost fits into the space at your back quite easily. your back arches a little as his big hand finds the bend of your waist, and you squeak a little when he forces you back, pressing your ass against his pelvis as he tucks you into his shadow.

"who's this fuckin' nitwit?" ghost mutters, clicking his tongue under his mask. you swallow, blinking up at the man, shrugging as you try and press yourself a little closer against his heat.

"i-i dunno," you whisper, and it's shaky, afraid. "h-he won't stop...following me."

"tha' right?" ghost hums, and you're so afraid of the man in front of you that you don't really register the way ghost's big hand is slipping lower, over the curve of your denim jeans and squeezing the fat of your ass that fills the palm of his hand all too nicely. "ya botherin' 'er?"

the man swallows a little, hiccuping. he stands up straighter, a little more sober, and he just shrugs as he takes another swig of his beer.

"just...she's so pretty, ya know--agh!"

ghost reaches over and grips him by the fat of his neck. he squeezes hard, drawing him closer, would be spitting in his face if he wasn't wearing the balaclava over his head.

"'f i see ya around 'er again, i'll paint the fuckin' walls with y'r teeth, mate, yeah? now get outta my fuckin' sight before i do it just for fun."

when ghost lets him go, he struggles to breathe, holding onto the bar and coughing as he scrambles to put distance between you. you shake a little, turning towards the bar, picking up what you assume is his drink and sipping it slowly to try and calm the nerves. you close your eyes gently, shaking your head.

"thank you," you say softly. "i-i couldn't shake him off, he was following me everywhere, i..." you turn your head and meet his eyes, smiling up at him. "that was really nice of you. i'm...sorry if i caused you any trouble."

ghost tilts his head to the side, fitting himself back behind you. he reaches over, putting both arms on either side of you and leaning over one shoulder, breathing hot against your neck.

"wot you mean?" he murmurs, and you blink, not understanding.

"for pretending to..." you laugh a little, looking into his eyes. "just...it was nice of you to do that. to pretend like that, i--"

"dunno wot y'r talkin' about," ghost chuckles, and you seize when he reaches down between you, cupping you between the legs as he palms at your pussy over your jeans. you keen a little, leaning into his touch, nasty brute pressing two fingers against where you're most sensitive and forcing your ass back against him, where he's hard, chubbed up since he first saw you, leaking into his cargos.

"i-i--" your eyes are wide, but you don't pull away, don't push him back--why am i not running? why can't i leave? what's happening to me--

"i wasn't pretending. were you?"

[hinamie]

make it vicious, take a stab

[ther0sesared3ad]

The urge to learn every language and play every instrument and travel the world and live through every historical time period and be a writer and a poet and an actor and

[kiiwipops]

when you're the only one in the party who has a functional moral compass

[arcanegifs]

ARCANE LEAGUE OF LEGENDS: 2x05 - “Blisters and Bedrock” ↳ "What are you waiting for? He's your dad too."

[cuppajj]

What if the ancients also corrupted and became beasts, and it's one great cycle of futility?

some info on the beast ancients:

Saint Vanilla Cookie, after deducing that the horrors and cruelty of the world are caused by the darkness in cookies' dough, formed a messiah complex. Believing he is the only one who can save Earthbread, his extreme compassion for the happiness of cookies has made him an angel of death; though he believes he is purifying those he touches, he believes their cries of pain from their disintegrating bodies are simply a part of the healing process. He has brought his willing followers to salvation, and seeks to do the same for all of cookiekind.

Midnight Lily Cookie became the new monarch of the Faerie Kingdom after the death of Elder Faerie Cookie. When she turned to the path of darkness, her fiercely loyal subjects followed with her, sworn to protect her at all costs. While she holds no ambitions for conquest, she has vowed to assert the influence of her kingdom across Beast Yeast on her own terms, and to put an end to the false enchantress who shares her being.

Dragonberry Cookie reinstated herself as the monarch of her kingdom, keeping the royal family under her thumb and influence. Her passion for strength and combat drew her attention to the Red Dragon, whose power became her obsession. Now, she seeks to know how to become a great beast herself, and will do anything to achieve it; even keeping the Red Dragon shackled underneath the castle as it’s studied day in and day out.

Frigid Cacao Cookie learned to tame the Licorice Sea that had threatened his kingdom for eons; however, something of either his design or an external force led to the entire Cacao Kingdom freezing over. Cacao sat idly by as this happened, unmoving from his great throne with his head slouched and eyes unreadable. He has resigned himself to extreme solitude, but the swirling black ocean does his bidding in his favor.

Celestial Cheese Cookie never moved on from the truth. In fact, she chose to build everything from the ground up. How wonderful! She can bring her grand design to Earthbread itself, sharing her brilliance with all of cookiekind. Of course forging a new empire will come with resistance, but she is well prepared. For the devout, they will be graciously rewarded; the dissenters will become decorations. With the ability to summon as many arms as she needs, she can turn anything to gold with a simple touch.

With five new Beasts loose on earthbread, the fight to save it has become much, much harder…

[inkskinned]

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.

[sbeep]

I was drawing characters during enemy turns in the final battles of my 2nd run of the game, and one thing led to another. I've fallen in love with the whole cast. 🫶 Ft. my paladin Dark Urge and bard Tav.

[venusaur-propaganda]

Drawing Venusaur with every Pokemon pt. Venusaur!