#ass ending

[nmakii]

“what’re you doing? you’re being pretty quiet” nagi mumbles from his end of the call. the two of you always called whenever you were doing menial things such as doing your homework or gaming. it was your relationship’s weird way of spending time together.

“logging. something for my club…” you vaguely explain, not exactly making nagi any more knowledgeable on what you’re doing.

you’re really tired— your eyebags have been drooping much more this week, you can never seem to wake up in time for school, and you have so much work you haven’t finished yet, you’re considering doing an all-nighter…

“ugh…” you groan, “i think my brain’s gonna explode…” your eyes finally blink after staying open for what seems like an hour straight.

“you should take a break, babe. hop on call of duty with me?” nagi offers. you had called him at 6 PM; it’s 12 AM, and haven’t said anything since the call started. nagi was starting to get needy.

“can’t, seishi… i really have a ton to do…” you mumble, head in your hands. there was way too much, you felt as if you were gonna break down. “babe…” nagi pouts, grumbling. “please? just one round?”

he tries negotiating, but he receives no response. “…babe?” he asks,

“hellooo..?” he calls out.

“did you fall asleep..?”

“…”

he sighs. you actually managed to work yourself to sleep. you didn’t turn on your camera, so he couldn’t actually see the position you fell asleep in. he could only hope it was a comfortable one that wouldn’t have you complaining that your back hurts in the morning.

“sleep well, babe…” he wishes. but now, what does he do..? he doesn’t quite want to leave you alone sleeping, so he decides to let you sleep on the call while he plays his games.

when you wake up in the morning, red marks are all over your forearms, your hair is flying in your face, and theres a pool of drool on your desk.

shit, you fell asleep— what time was it..?

you look to your overheating PC— it’s 4 AM. you turn to your other monitor, and see that you’re still on call with nagi, who you can only assume fell asleep on call with you, so you wouldn’t be lonely.

‘10:58:38’

‘i should stay on call with him’, you think to yourself.

cause, what if he gets lonely?

[chloesimaginationthings]

You know Henry’s final speech went hard in FNAF

[pinkravat-art]

"breakfast" a tma s5 animation thing

audio on:333

dawg can't even fry me an egg in this eyeconomy

[VD: A Magnus Archives animation done in orange and teal titled "Pusryčiai" (meaning: "breakfast"). Mellow music plays as Martin cracks two eggs into a frying pan. He turns away to throw the shells while the pan sizzles, and when he returns with a spatula, a "boom" sound effect plays as Martin recoils with comic disgust.

The egg yolks have been replaced by human eyeballs. Martin stares at them for a moment. He then pokes at the egg with the spatula, producing a squelching sound, and one of the eyes blinks with another gross wet sound. Martin goes from disgusted to comically sad and disappointed, and he fades away before the setting does. The video ends on the words "darė Skaistė" (meaning: made by Skaistė) and a quick shot of an eyeball. End VD]

ty @princess-of-purple-prose for the description, i edited it a bit too.

[aru-and-leopard-cat]

I feel like this has to be said, since it’s becoming increasingly popular to be extremely rude to ppl and trash on their interests (especially on tumblr)

You can enjoy any media you like despite what losers on tumblr tell you that you should and shouldn’t enjoy, be it music, books, or shows and movies. If you’re having fun and enjoying yourself that’s all that matters, lame ass ppl on this site will try and make u feel guilty about what you enjoy and I think that’s stupid as fuck

Listen to pop, watch that popular show, read that book that everyone claims is bad. Who cares, ppl are way too obsessed with being different and unique that they’ll try and squash your interests and enjoyment to make themselves seem interesting

Bottom line, just treat people with kindness and don’t diminish their interests, it’s such a shitty thing to do

[kingofdoma]

best description of morgan spurlock's legacy ever

[pop-video]

MUSIC VIDEOS THAT TURN 20 in 2025

[me-beef]

@strangeravatar made a great point

i was gonna focus on the spike-hotboxing-celestia aspect but i got distracted somewhere along the way and i think i forgot what joke i was trying to make

but dont you think its interesting how many guards of the exact same color/body type she's managed to accrue?? i do

ooohh you want to go look at our stickers so bad

[kenchann]

alexa play im not okay by my chemical romance

[thesinglesock]

in a modern AU Link would be Zelda's only friend with a driver's license and their chat history would look like this

[isjasz]

do you remember

[saragrosie]

Sketching while streaming s5...

Jonathan Sims I will learn to draw you (this is my doing. I could draw him however I want and I choose to stick with an image of him in my brain that is difficult for me to draw. Masochism.)

Not s5 Mahtins below I enjoyed drawing cuz hes neat:

(Edit: I yassified Martin in the do not separate cuz I wanted his hair fluffier)

[awetfrog]

dungeon tea time

[squinkoblinko]

Medic does unboxing (unwrapping) video for youtube

Here’s a clearer ver without filter zzzzzz

[bluebellowl]

The ACTUAL beginning! Or at least starting from when Ingo hath returned. He doesn’t know where he is, when he is and is very jumpy

Page 1/5 Next>

[7lizardsinacoat]

SAY HI, PACK OF PIXIES!

Every time I rewatch A Court of Fey and Flowers (or let's be real, any campaign Aabria Iyengar is in or runs), I had more and more wanted to paint her. So I did. Truly one of my favorite and most inspirational DMs, and a fashion icon to boot.

[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.