#and ITS STILL RARE!

[swagging-back-to]

okurrr youtube music has a wrapped too

[dilfosaur]

i dont acknowledge luce's hot evil brother enough

[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.

[cipheramnesia]

Tumblr stop recommending me horny sapphic blogs that all say men dni in the pinned post, go back to sending me posts from the one that's just horny all the time please, I want the fat furries and the queer freaks that are way less respectably normal about me and my body.

[hajihiko]

[a-chaotic-dumbass]

winterfell is one of my favorite of the castles bc its warm. both in a metaphorical and literal meaning. its built on natural hot springs and has hot water streaming through out the entire castle, protecting its residents both from the cold and people alike. its so warm inside that catelyn can open her windows in the middle of the night and still stay comfortable. even the glass gardens are warm enough for flowers to bloom and crops to grow in the long winters, feeding the keep. the people are warm too; everyone from the servants to the lord himself. Ned cared for his people and they loved him for that and took care of the Starklings in turn, risked their lives to save Bran and Rickon from the ironborn. Theon knows that if Bran and Rickon were to get away from Winterfell, the commoners themselves would protect the princes, hide and lie for them. and when Sansa builds Winterfell from snow and rocks and sticks in the Eyrie, it doesn't feel right bc despite the snow which covered it from winter to summer, Winterfell itself never was cold

[sporeclan]

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This one goes out to all the Finchpaw fans out there

[majunju]

egg

[stiffyck]

I WISH ARO HEADCANONS WERE MORE POPULAR IN FANDOMS

[a-town-called-hometown]

cooked too hard talking about how fun transfem asriel could be so im taking a rare moment to post it to the tumblr followers lol

image id under cut!

[Image Description: A discord screenshot. The text reads as follows:

something i think a lot about for deltarune SPECIFICALLY is how societal expectations, narrative roles, hierarchial positionings, and the metanarrative interactions by the player are all often rolled together and depicted overwhelmingly as a shackle for its characters

even seemingly positive ones like "smart kid" "prince of the darkness" or "nice girl in town" are ideas that constrain the people they're placed upon

in that context, i cannot IMAGINE asriel having a positive relationship with his role as idolized golden child in deltarune

I don't think he wears it well. this isn't the sort of story where people can wear that kind of overwhelming weight well

especially considering how asriel is the offscreen apex of all of those conditions I mentioned. both in universe and out, his mere existence is charged with this gigantic significance

so yeah, I think theres no way asriel makes it out of this as "pure uncomplicated good golden boy who everyone loves." something has to crack somewhere and i think one of those cracks could be asriels fucking egg LMAO. Estrogen Will Save Her

End ID]

[icewindandboringhorror]

On average, what is the total MONTHLY amount that you spend on dining out*?

*(This doesn't only count going out to restaurants, but also stuff like picking up fast food to bring home, getting a coffee on the way to work, getting a premade sandwich from a grocery store deli during lunch, buying a quick snack from a convenience store or food cart whilst walking somewhere, ordering a pizza or any other food to be delivered to your home, etc.)

*(If you often dine out in groups/as a household: calculate and divide the costs so that you get a Per Person average. This is for YOU individually, NOT the total household/group costs)

(I'm sure polls similar to this have been made before (very common topic), I just haven't personally seen one that I can remember, so, I was curious to do my own! I was discussing this with a group of people today and it was very interesting to see how widely the number varied between individuals. :0c )

(Reblog for bigger sample size if you can, and feel free to explain your answer in tags if there's anything extra to add!)

[ganondoodle]

did a little sketch yesterday that i really liked and tried to get it done today just so i got literally anything to post- but i fell into the trap of 'making sketches to elaborate and thus really stiff and non fun' (for me), ... soooooo .. im redoing the whole thing

but the idea was a mummy ganondorf for my (yes still existing) totk rewrite; i wanted to make him more scary looking and also emphasize just how horrid it must be to be kept in between life and death by having your heart grabbed by a cold and vengeful magical hand for thousands of years (in this case the ancient queen .. which i also tried to sketch despite not showing up aside from her dissolving hand)

the spell starting to fail and his body being more damaged in some parts (jaw being only the bones left for example) and his chest open from being slowly eaten up by the queens magic, the ribs contorting around it like its a gravitational pull- sounds cooler than it looks bc this sketch did not work out, so im saving the details for the .. hopefully, better version

[sweetieviktor]

"it's the tradition", feat. viktor.

summary: it's christmas in runeterra and couples are sharing kisses under the mistletoe.

word count: 1.000. (yes! exactly 1k im happy with it :]

content warning: just fluff as always! :DD (written with s1 viktor in mind!!!

author notes: ITS 5AM AND IVE WRITTEN 2 FICS IN A DAY, maybe im going to die but fuck it we ball. love viktor and love xmas, i wish i could use sweaters but in brazil december is sooo hot but yeah, here it is a lil something for the holidays. hope u like it!! :)))

whenever some holiday approaches, piltover academy is adorned in it's colour by students. it's december and the halls are decorated with reds and greens all the way, bringing joy to those who look up and see the fairy lights blinking slowly to them. christmas is coming, and so is winter.

everyone is using their thickest coats, but there's still some people who are cold, even if they are holding hot drinks to warm up both their hands and their body, or if they are rubbing their arms, creating some friction that could maybe help it, or sharing kisses under the mistletoe meticulously placed on the tree near the entrance of the academy, which have all kind of things hanging on it. some letters addressed to santa, little brilliant baubles made in all type of materials you could think of, red bows and colorful lights, all made by it's students.

you wanted to spend your day like this, enjoying over your partner's warmth under the mistletoe. well, life isn't fair. he was already working and you needed to work too, but maybe you could bring him some sweet milk and cookies on your lunch break, right?

so once the clock hitted midday, you walked to the cafeteria, the same one you and viktor got out on your first date, and ordered enough cookies for both of you. the women on the other side of the counter packed them to you, putting the little bag on your right hand, while you carried the cup of sweet milk on the other. finally, you got out, hands full, hoping that you could bring him some of the christmas spirit when leaving those in the lab.

when you made it to the academy again, it was even more crowded than earlier, students going in and out, chatting and joking around, throwing snowballs at each other and playing in the snow. and again, the couples kissing under the mistletoe. and all you could think of was him. oh, how you missed his kisses. so you hurried up, the flashy holiday themed colors in the halls blending together in an indistinguishable blur.

once you reached his lab, you knocked on the door, anxiously waiting for an answer. you could feel how your heart thumped against your ribs, maybe it's the nervousness or just because you runned all the way to come here in time. “come in,” was all you could hear from inside.

you turned the door knob, pushing it so you could enter the lab. he was hunched over his desk, but once he looked past his shoulder, realizing you were the one who got in, his golden eyes immediately lighted up, just like the fairy lights, but shined even brighter when he seemed the baked goods you carried, then turning again to his work, “just wait a bit, i will finish this, ehh- hopefully soon.”

you came from behind him, leaving both the bag and the cup over his desk, “i know these are your favorites,” you put your hand on his shoulder, “and it's my break now, but soon i need to get back to work,” his hand stopped, no longer making calculations. he looked up at you, then at the papers in front of him, thinking if he should or not give in.

sighing, he let the pencil over the papers. you knew he would keep working if you didn't say it. “i guess i could give myself a break, then,” the corners of his mouth quirking up while he reached for the bag, opening it and letting the smell of the cookies bathe the place, bringing coziness alongside it. he shoved his hand on the bag, picking one up and biting onto it, humming softly when it melted on his tongue, then bringing the almost half cookie to your lips, only to put away and eat it himself.

he was laughing loudly, keeping a hand over his mouth, to prevent any crumbs from coming out. “you ain't fair,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. you knew he was just joking, but you wanted to eat too, “i brought those so we both could eat. together!”

“i know, i know!”, he said, getting the cup of sweet milk and taking a sip of it, “but it's fun to tease you. can't help it,” he shrugged, looking at your pouty expression turning into one of anger. picking another cookie, he proceeded to feed you first, your frown immediately disappearing. he was trying to not laugh again, but he couldn't contain it, as he did so, soon the frown came back to your face.

“stop making fun of me and let me eat, for jannas's sake,” you also couldn't keep your smile from growing, it was such a good atmosphere that, even if you were mad at him for stealing your cookie and laughing at you, you couldn't be mad for longer than thirty seconds.

you were laughing with him, happy with how your lunch was going, eating and talking, so busy with everything that you didn't see him fidgeting, looking for something inside his jacket pocket. once there was no more food nor milk, he cleaned his hands, bringing one over you both, holding something up. a mistletoe.

you scoffed, running your hand over your face, “really, viktor?”, you were astonished, he truly got one of those just he could have an excuse to kiss you?

“well, it's the tradition, isn't it?”, he grinned, placing his free hand on your waist, bringing you closer, “any person who's under the mistletoe must kiss, it's correct?”

“yes, absolutely correct,” you put both hands on each side of his face, kissing his lips softly, tasting the sugar on his mouth. “but you taste like milk and cookies,” you kissed him again, just to make sure you got it right, “maybe next year i will bring you more of these, so we could kiss under the mistletoe again.”

“oh, christmas may be my favorite holiday now.”

[deoidesign]

when your main characters start dating after years of writing so they finally get to be like this

[super-lupus]

The way Mulder says "and my report will reflect that, in case you're worried." to Scully in 7x7 makes my brain fuzz out. Like it's so obvious. Like how could she be scared about that. Like 'of COURSE I'm going to lie on an official FBI document about you killing someone in order to protect you, silly. Don't even worry abt it.'

And her reaction is perfect too because she almost looks like she wants to chide him, tell him that that's against policy (and probably a crime??) and it's not the right thing to do. But she knows she would do the same thing for him and that she has before. So who is she to talk?

[s0fter-sin]

nikolai hunting ghost down whenever they're on the same base and plucking him from whatever duties he has to whisk him away somewhere private. he has no authority, nothing more than his reputation as a rogue pilot with a few screws loose, but the way he fearlessly manhandles the ghost has people ducking out of his way anyway

behind a locked door, he offers ghost the choice of either curling up at his feet or sitting pliant in his lap, his full weight against him with his head lax on his shoulder; warm, comfortable, boneless

he then tucks his mask up above his lips and plies him with fruit and sweets; things he'd never buy for himself, indulgences he’d never entertain, wasted on a hollow shell like him

but nikolai? oh, he knows how much he deserves them; these precious moments of peace where the only thing ghost exists for is the next delicious bite

he feeds them to him one by one; thumbing strawberry juice and powdered sugar from his lips, humming in pure pleasure as he sucks it away, and smiles at ghost’s involuntary shivers when he feeds him his favourites. ghost doesn't even know what most of the sweets even are; what they’re made of or even what country nikolai buys them from. he just knows he loves them; loves the chase of nikolai’s fingers on his tongue after each one even more

nikolai always brings plenty for him, always draws it out, wanting these rare breaths of contentment to last for ghost’s sake as much as his own; offering plump bites of tart, homemade treats, letting rich chocolate melt between his fingers so it's soft in his mouth and watches his eyes flutter shut as he savours it

decadence incarnate; slow taught and hard won

ghost licks the dregs from his fingers and suckles them long after they're clean; the thought of an empty mouth so wrong to his sweet-clouded mind. nikolai coos in russian down at him, brushing his fingers through his hair as he holds him close, but he's too far away to take in any of it; the only thing holding him in the present the sugared fingers held gently in his mouth

after all, nikolai's always been his favourite sweet