#and am hungry

[watercolourferns]

Uuuuuuugh, I just wanna be paid to look pretty and draw!!!

[rink3]

Sebastian chilling on the surface bc he deserves it

[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.

[m-o-t-y-l-e-k-a-n-y]

this is my face

this is my other face

[taycaitlins]

WHAT THE FUCK IS HER PROBLEM

[gomzdrawfr]

🎃happy thanksgiving🦃

reblogs are appreciated!

[link]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Sublime Equine.

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[itsallaboutbl]

Wanna be my boyfriend?

[lololmiley]

Patrzecie kurwa ona schudła 30 a wy nie umiecie zrzucić tych kilku kg? zalosne kurwy 🐷

[sockmeat]

Alastor gets horny for romance and it's a real treat to witness

The weather gets colder and his behavior gets so much stranger... To others, anyway. You're well aware of this little routine Alastor goes through every year

You know immediately why Alastor is suddenly so much more interested in travelling with you. Normally, he'd simply ask where you were going and send you off easily, but now he's insisting that he goes to your work with you to "protect" you even though you have nothing to worry about

He feeds you like he's an Italian grandma. If he's not with you, he's in the kitchen making something for you, but if he is with you, he's dragging you to the kitchen to make something for you

He gets increasingly nitpicky about your diet and lifestyle. Generally he's a normal amount of annoying with everything you do, but it gets crazy when he's in rut

Suddenly he's insisting that you work too much and he needs to pamper you

He only allows you to eat food that he's made, which tends to be from scratch. How is he supposed to know who made these noodles? Who the hell laid these eggs? Fuck this, he's getting a chicken.

You have a chicken now... Fat Nuggets has a buddy :)

No fast food for you!! Alastor insists he knows a better recipe and will make you forget about the nasty greasy food

He's crazy because he's right, guys

Somehow he does make the food better and now you can't look at it the same anymore

This is only unfortunate when you want a yummy 3 a.m. snack

But now it's 7 a.m. and you may as well have just gone to bed

It's yummy, but is it worth it?

[noxcheshire]

A one sided crack ship I suddenly got in my delirious hungry state, and need to throw it up so here you go

Joker x Danny

But its JOKER whose one sided feelings for Danny who is really trying his best to ignore this weird clown mf

I was thinking that it could either be actual ‘oh no I have a crush on this guy’ OR Joker being liminal enough and ghostly enough to sense the otherworldliness of Danny Fenton. An otherness that Joker just wants. Like a hungry, starved beast that had finally found a proper meal instead of the bone scraps he’s been trying to scrap off of Batman.

He doesn’t even realize what it is he wants either, only that he wants to pull Danny’s skin back and nestle inside.

Danny on the other hand knows, he’s gone through a few ghostly sessions to understand that Joker is starved, and empty, and already half mad from hunger that he is willing to try and grab a fully loaded half ghost that could still kick his ass.

I just like the idea of everyone’s horror pov of the Joker trying to attract this one civilian guy and Danny just being annoyed by this one scraggly alley cat trying to gnaw on his arm.

[bbl0ndyy]

[flamingpudding]

Not my Circus

A/N: I hate my brain and it's suckish timing...

Danny was a circus kid. He knew that, and so did his parents. Well, the once that took him in when he was five. He knew he had a loving family before the Fentons. Yet he doesn't know himself why he never put in more effort to return to them. No, wait, he had an idea what his five years old mind could have been thinking.

If Freakshow and his mockery of a circus had never shown up in Amity. Then Danny might have pushed the thought of his original family to the side forever. He had been a foolish kid back then, reckless and tempramental, unlike his older brother. He had tried to follow into his parents' and brother's footsteps, but he wasn't as graceful or acrobatic as they were. It was irony really with how much he liked flying and doing tricks in the air now. But still he remembered having a lot of frustrated fights with his brother about his inability to be like them.

When he got reminded he started to do a bit of a more serious research again and when he found out about his originals parents death half a year after he was first declared missing from the circus as well as his older brothers having gotten adopted too, he had dropped it all again. Pushing all of that back into the deepest depths of his mind again. His older brother was doing well. There was no need for him, for Danny.

That went well until Jazz went to university in Gotham and convinced him to go there to collage too, when he sort of forcefully retired from being a teen hero. It went well for a couple of years until his mid twenties.

Because despite Gotham being a city way bigger than Amity, there were still chances of you running into certain people.

The moment he entered the coffee shop and saw the others face, everything he had pushed aside in his mind came right back to the forefront of his mind.

How he foolishly trained in acrobatics behind his families back after another fight while they were moving towns and fell off the wagon.

How he had felt like he enjoyed not feeling presured to be like them and didn't put too much effort into returning to them when he was with the Fenton as well as thinking that his elder brother was probably happier without a stubborn little brother.

How when he looked them up he dropped it just as fast when he learned about their deaths and his elder brothers adoption.

He blinked wide-eyed at the man that stood before him a teen next to him while he held two cups of coffees. He, too, was staring at Danny frozen.

Now Danny had several options of how to handle the situation. And he most likely didn't choose the best one at first as usual. Because what he did in response at seeing Richard 'Dick' Grayson was to turn tail and run even using is invisibility and intangiblity.

What Danny didn't know was that Dick's first, thought, was someone cloned him and not that his missing brother from his days before the Waynes was back.

Thus a game of mouse was started...

[m-o-t-y-l-e-k-a-n-y]

th!nspo

[devil-in-hiding]

i need yall to hear me out (this is not On The Run related!)

farmer!reader who’s bulls are too old for breeding season, the ol boys deserves to roam the land

but the cows still have 2 or 3 seasons left in them, so you go looking for anyone selling four young bulls

not reading the listing close enough before placing your bid, and winning

Just to have four bull hybrids standing on your front porch, staring you down like they haven’t had anything to eat in days

“I-I think there was some sort of mix-up, I-“

“Ya needed breeding bulls yeah?” One of them says, voice deep and rich, horns glinting as he tilted his head and you gulp.

“Y-yes b-but my girls a-aren’t…” you trail off, and they glance towards the barn, where your cows lay snuggled up to THEIR bull, before looking back at you

“I-i’m so sorry, you can keep-“

“Think we can work out another arrangement.”

You don’t remember what was said after that, or how exactly they knew where your bedroom was-

all you knew as they coaxed your 3rd orgasm from your body, your slick and Price’s cum dripping to the floor where Johnny eagerly licks it up as Kyle swirls his tongue around your clit is maybe this was a happy accident

Then Simon is bullying his fat cock into your aching cunt, grinning at the way your eyes roll back, a broken moan ringing in his ears

“Gonna make such a good mama aren’t ya?”

[em7raen]

noelle in a messy bun AND LEG WARMERS CAUSE I ALWASY SEE PPL DRAW HER W THEM N ITS SO CUTEEE