#That Doesn't Make Any Sense

[wrestlezaynia]

I missed the beginning of SmackDown, but just because Kevin didn't come to Cody's aid we're led to believe they're no longer friends?

[disposal-blueeee]

twitter trend again

y'all know this. it's all over twitter rn.

original post here

[oya-0urt]

OH MY GOD I understand why people are saying Forever is a RP god those last days, it's CRAZY

This man is amazing at going insane

I don't know if it's a good thing tho

[krafterwrites]

Some stuff for Sonic X Shadow Generations supposedly got "leaked" and I feel like I'm losing my mind because it looks so fake to me, but every single person I've seen talking about it is acting like it's 100% undoubtedly true

[solacecent]

I'll be honest with you guys I thought until now, that the no fly list was public info

[snuggles-and-struggles]

First up, horrorswap. I've been rotating it in my brain off and on lately, so I figured I'd start with one of the notes I'd made- oh lord almost two years ago WOW wait when is that art from. Oh man. Time is an illusion. Okay. Anyway.

Similar startings as how I usually do HF, Edge and Stretch met back underground, fell in love, and everything was cool and good. But then Tale suddenly lost contact with them, and they didn’t know what happened…until some time later, Fell surfaced. They quickly found out their timeline had merged with Tales, but that they could no longer contact Swap through the machine.

Eventually SF and TrF joined them on the surface, neither having met the others back underground. Years pass and Swap still hasn’t surfaced. Edge holds onto hope he has to, but time keeps dragging out.

It’s been long enough Edge is just about the only one still holding out hope, but he still has his job and life to tend to, and it hardly ever comes up he still wears the necklace Stretch gave him their first Gyftmas together, every day.

Then, something happens. The machine in Red and Toriel’s basement whirs to life and spits out two, incredibly fucked up monsters. The eventually dubbed Rust attacks Red initially, but Edge (who’d been visiting) gets between them, almost immediately recognizing “Stretch”. Rust is too out of it for it to register, and Red quickly incapacitates him before he can strike when Edge is in shock. “Blue” was already unconscious.

They’re both taken to receive medical treatment, both in pretty atrocious condition. When “Stretch” awakens, he starts to recognize the others, but…he’s pretty seriously traumatized. He’s sharp and a little cruel, seems to think this is some sort of dream or nightmare, not quite convinced it’s reality but not rejecting it either. Whatever happened, it’s obvious he’s been through the wringer. His body is mutated in some pretty serious ways, along with a lot of just outright damage, the worst of all being the gaping slice taken from his head. His right eye socket is full of diffuse magic, and he’s severely malnourished. “Blue"'s not much better off, and completely blind. Frankly, neither of them should still be alive, and yet.

As things slowly become more “real” to them, the newly dubbed Rust tries to reject Edge’s help. But Edge is nothing if not stubborn and full of love. He wears him down eventually, but the others are a bit worried for Edge, Red and Toriel especially.

Rust is pretty fucked in the head, to put it mildly (pun only slightly intended). He’s standoffish, aggressive…deranged at his worst times. And the newly dubbed Coal is really out of it at first, nor does he remember any of their old friends, so no one gets the context for what in the hell happened to them, as Rust would be more likely to chop his own arm off than talk about where they’d come from.

But they don’t see Rust with Edge when no one else is around. Yes, of course it’s incredibly rough at the beginning. There were probably many times Edge left the hospital disassociating and didn’t stop until he returned the next day. But as he slowly, slowly comes around, can’t break Edge with his bullshit, Rust…eases. Only around Edge and Coal, only. At first.

He can’t be released from the psych hospital until he proves he isn’t a danger to anyone, which takes...a while, but he softens to Edge, of course, for him, and it’s a hard fought battle, but Edge eventually convinces him to try. If not for his sake, then his brother's.

Rust eventually concedes, and stops fighting treatment. Coal’s memory is pretty shot, but he starts doing better, too, not nearly as volatile as Rust was at any point.

And eventually, Rust is permitted to be placed under a sort of conservatorship with Edge. It helps him stay on track, too, because if he fucks up, it comes back on Edge, so he really does intend to…mostly, keep on the straight and narrow.

And Edge loves him. He does. It’s incredibly hard sometimes, but there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for Stretch Rust. He moves in, while Coal moves in with Tale Asgore for company and help with his disabilities. And Rust really does improve. He’s mostly just quiet, his humors a lot more dark most of the time, but he’ll still crack jokes. He prefers to stick close to Edge if others are around, but if they aren’t, well. He can be a little clingy, but of course Edge doesn’t mind. Usually.

^ there was more to the note but it was just about a poly variant lol

I love them but man do they need sooo much therapy. I have a really sweet/sad convo wip between them I will post...at some point probably, but honestly I don't have much more actually written out for them, I just rotate them ✌️😔

[alyanas-little-hideout]

god I should be going to sleep not just scrolling my feed help.

God

I wish I could just not have to sleep so I could just fuck around like 12 hours straight a night like it's so annoying to go have to just shut down for a while

[william-austin]

I spent 1.5 hours (collectively, not straight) trying to figure out the difference between trumpet and flugabone/flugelhorn (I think those r the same I thought so at least) in More Than Survive and at some point last night I though a synth was trumpet

[alexthemacaronian]

Cw mentions of anxiety attacks and maybe something similar to self harm?? (I can't tell if that's what it is) [deleting later]

Hey guys! So on a scale of 1-10 how ptsd would you say it is if someone repeatedly gets very strong and often violent anxiety attacks when thinking about a certain past event (or just the past in general) that left them pretty scarred and often end up scratching themselves suddenly and violently just to cope with it or alternatively bite themselves? And constantly get unwanted thoughts and reminders about this event whenever you're left alone with your thoughts? And if they can't remember most of your childhood and all the memories since that event of not only the previous 4 years but also your life in general have been incredibly muddy?

I'm trying to prove a point here

[risetherivermoon]

ppl dont talk about the fact that even Daisuke's characterization is affected by Jimmy's unreliable perspective. He refers to Daisuke as a spoiled rich kid who has his mommy and daddy behind him, that he's impressionable and stupid, and i do see people kinda characterizing him like that

like he has these rich parents who will dote on him and give him everything, that he's an airhead who isn't good at anything...

yet in curly's perspective we see that he's good at board games, he's trying his best, he's trying to listen to swansea and learn from him. He did get the internship from his parents but not because he wanted to, but because his parents thought he wasn't going anywhere in life, that he needed to be doing something. Daisuke is silly and a positive person but that's just for show, we see in the scene where Jimmy finds him lying on the floor drunk on mouthwash, that Daisuke isn't doing well, he's scared and feels sad about his parents. He makes jokes to cope with the horrible tension on the ship.

people characterize him as a stupid little kid too much for my liking, that's how Jimmy sees him. As a spoiled brat who came on the ship just to be an inconvenience. Even Swansea didn't see him like that, sure he complained about him but in Daisuke's final moments we see Swansea's true colors and how much he actually cares for him. He's an adult, who's putting on this happy go-lucky persona because he truly wants to succeed in life, and he's doing the internship for his mom and dad even though he doesn't want to. So he makes friends, he tries his best, he wants to be on the good side of everyone on the ship.

Jimmy just saw him as an easy target, someone too trusting and easily manipulated. A stupid kid he can use to get what he wants. He even plays with Daisuke's feelings of needing validation from Swansea, someone he looks up to. He tells Daisuke that by going in the vent, he'd make Swansea proud.

Daisuke isn't someone who has it easy or someone who's a stupid airhead. Jimmy just saw kindness and positivity as weakness.

[taonpest]

Sometimes being an artist is feeling like a baker seeing a chemist making the deadliest liquid in the world and wishing you could make the deadliest liquid as well but you're a baker, not a chemist, and then you feel like your bread is worthless

[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.

[iztea]

imagine if they didn't pull that sword out of Bram in time and then Fyodor got reincarnated as a lollipop stick

[ayo-edebiri]

#They canonically don't need a visitor's badge and they have a key to each other's house. They are not guests or visitors in each other's life. They're here to stay permanently

[uncanny-tranny]

The leftism/anticapitalism leaving people's bodies the zeptosecond you imply that disabled people who aren't "productive" still matter in society and need to be treated like intrinsic equals who have a place in this world:

[casscainmainly]

Jason and Cass' opposing views on murder is so interesting. Their conflict is not purely moralistic - that is to say, it's not purely that Jason thinks murder is okay, and Cass doesn't. It's their identities, their original and most fundamental worldview. Jason is a murder victim and Cass is a murderer. Yes, Jason kills people as Red Hood, and yes, Cass dies multiple times, but this never truly erases how they see themselves. Jason will always have been murdered, and Cass will always be a murderer. They are unable to fully extricate themselves from those roles, and thus will never approach life or death the same way.