#but hey I made friends

[jellyshoes-fandomfolk]

Isat chatfic pt3

4:34 pm

*MIRABELLE PLUMS added Isabeau, Odile and Petronille*

Petronille: WHAT THE CRAB WAS THAT

MIRABELLE: I don’t know!

Odile: What do we do now?

MIRABELLE: well, first, we need to figure out where the crab he is

Petronille: He ran into the forest.

I think he went past our tents

MIRABELLE: phew, ok should I do it?

Odile: yes.

Petronille: Yeah

Isabeau: ok

MIRABELLE: her goes

*MIRABELLE PLUMS added Siffrin*

Siffrin: I'm sorry

MIRABELLE:We don't want an apology!!!!! How is that the first thing you think of?!

Siffrin: sorry 

Petronille: ok, that doesn't matter where the crab are you?

Siffrin: I don't know

Odile: surroundings?

Siffrin: trees

MIRABELLE: OF COURSE THERE ARE TREES WERE IN A FOREST

siffrin: sorry

MIRABELLE: anything else?

Siffrin: a brick ruin?

Odile: That's something…

Petronille: anything else?

Siffrin: a

Uhh no.

Isabeau: We'll try to find you.

Siffrin: ok…

Petronille: Don’t move around

Siffrin: Ok

MIRABELLE: We love you. Don’t! you! dare! forget! That!

Siffrin: Thanks ilyt

Isabeau: <3

8:31 pm

Star: We should name this gc its just all our names

Mira: Yeah

*Nille renamed the chat to The Bozos + Odile and Mira*

Nille: yeeaa

Star: yeeaa

Isa: Yeeaa

Mira: ?

Nille: Shhhhhhhh

Bonbon: OK

WHAT DID YOU DO FRIN

WHAT WAS THE ADOLTS ONLY TALK

Odile: *adults

Bonbon: ADULTS

Star: I freaked out and ran away

Bonbon: I KOW THAT DUMMY

Star: Ok.. It was because smth reminded me of the loops

Bonbon: so you got flashbacks to the endless school

Star: yeah

Mira: and so they ran off

Bonbon: LIKE A DUMMY

Star: Sorry

Nille: Hold up

*Nille went offline*

Star: WHAT IN THE BLINDING STARS WHY DID NILLE JUST SMACK ME

*Nille came online*

Nille: You deserved that!

Star: WHAT DI I DO

Nille: NO MORE APOLOGIES

Star: OK???? STARS ABOVE WOMAN CALM DOWN

Mirabelle: :0

Isa: What

Mira: Theres. A rat

Inside my room

Bonbon: COOK IT

Star: Im coming

Nille: ???????????????

Star: Mira is it threatening you

Mira: A little? Im scared of rats so…

Star: IM GOING TO MURDER IT

Mira: Thank you

Star: I WILLNOT LET IT HARM YOU OK

Mira: Thats not really necessary

Star: I COULDNT CARE LESS

(YOU NEED TO HELP ME FIND THE IBUPROFEN)

*Odile came online*

Odile: second drawer to the left in the bathroom, in the blue box.

*Odile went offline*

Isa: Did she just?

Nille: She just came on to tell us wher the Ibuprofen is wtc?

Isa: yeah…

Nille: thx ig?

8: 37 pm

Isa: Sif? Mira? How are you?

Star: IT RAN AWAY

Mira: They started insulting it

Halfway through it started to sound like they were targeted at themself

Star:  NO COMMENT

Isa: Sif is your capslock stuck again

Star: YES

Isa: Ill be ther in a second

Star: THANK YOU

Nille: that sounds so pathetic

Like you can hear how he said the thank you

Because weve all heard that thank you from him

Mira: That was funnier than it shouldve been

Star: My capslock is offff

Im freeeeee

My cage has been openeddddddd

Isa: Sif ina birdcage….

Bonbon: Birdfrin

Isa: Birdfrin

Mira: Birdfrin

Nille: Birdfrin

*Mira changed Star’s name to Birdfrin*

Birdfrin: WHYYYYYYY

Nille: Better idea

*Nille changed Birdfrin’s name to cats on the stars*

Cats on the stars: :)

Isa: Huh

Mira: Why?

Nille: Hey hes kinda like a cat ok?

Cat + Star obsession = our favourite little guy

Mira: … smart…

Bonbon: Get over here dinners ready losers (Spicy! spaghetti)

Isa: Changeeeeeeee whyyy

Cats on the stars: ill eat it if you dont want it

Isa: well see ok

Nille: Read: I will take two forkfuls and then give it to you silently while staring aggresivly at the table

Mira: hehhe

Nille: hehe (Theyre so)

Mira: Yeah 

Isa: Are you two done making fun of our very serious dilemma

Nille: Boy it is spaghetti get over it 

*Cats on the stars and four other went offline*

[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.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Welcome to the Dungeons of Fear and Hunger.

[tomcriuse]

Monkey Man 2024 | dir. Dev Patel

[izzystizzys]

“ - but have you ever considered, I don’t know, not sucking all the time? Just a thought.”

It takes the combined grips of Nuisance and Hound to keep the wriggling, snarling body beneath Fox from throwing him off its back. With three years’ practice of having to fix his own rickety desk chair over and over again, the movement merely ruffles the proverbial fringe on his helmet.

“And I don’t mean that as an insult, necessarily. Well, I do a little bit. But also I have some amount of empathy for the no doubt immense amounts of trauma that had to go into the creation of something so dysfunctional as you, on a very personal level, so have you considered going to the root of that in a way that’s like… useful? Instead of wasting it all on kriffing Kenobi, I mean. Look at the guy. All he does all day is drink tea and commit warcrimes. I bet he knits for fun. Bit of an embarrassing nemesis, don’t you think?”

“I”, says Kenobi, then pauses. The space between his eyebrows is creased with uncertainty, and he looks deeply torn between continuing rocking the shaking Duchess of Mandalore against his chest from his corner of the throne room and re-activating his lightsaber to continue losing his fight against the Darksider Fox is currently sitting on. “I feel like I should object to some part of that, but I’m not entirely clear on what. Or how this happened, again. Isn’t Mandalore a few star systems from your purview, Commander?”

“Probably the warcrimes”, mutters Nuisance underneath his strained breath.

“About as far from my supposed assignment as yours, General”, says Fox a little louder.

Kenobi twitches. Fox cannot claim to know which of them does it. Both, maybe. Probably.

“I will - taste - your - flesh!”, heaves out Darth Maul, snarling and hissing.

“Oooh, kinky!”, calls Grids, from the corner where she’s got her stun-setting aimed at the other Zabrak, currently passed out cold. Fox sighs deeply. He knew he shouldn’t have taken those three - any combination of Grids, Hound and Nuisance in a room together usually spelled chaos.

Unfortunately, it also spelled competence. The Basic alphabet can be funny that way.

The point being: as of some months into the war, one of Fox’s assigned tasks is the surveillance of all GAR-wide communication. All command-class staff theoretically got that memo, but no one seems to have read the fine print where that includes both professional and personal communication, as well as any and all comm devices registered or suspected to be registered to that person. Especially not one Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala.

The point further being, if that sounds both immensely impractical and sort of terrifying in a democratic supposedly non-surveillance state, you’d be bang on the credits, and to Fox’ eternal chagrin the singular person in this whole useless army who’s spent the second of thinking necessary for that conclusion.

The final point being, when one frantic General’s mad dash across the Galaxy to rescue his teenage sweetheart from the spectre of his supposedly dead nemesis crosses his desk on its way to the Chancellor’s inbox, it doesn’t take much time for him to block any and all trace of it across the digital space of the GAR commboard and take matters into his own hands.

“ - which is why I told Thorn to suck it up and be in charge for a few days, and also why you’re still alive, your Highness, very welcome, was no trouble at all”, he concludes, drily. The Duchess stares the wide-eyed look of someone attempting to reconcile clones with ‘sentience’ or perhaps ‘personality’ in her head, but won’t say it outright.

Or the look of someone who’s just been violently overthrown and nearly murdered, perhaps, Fox allows.

“Um -“, Kenobi hedges, blinking rapidly.

“And the reason you’re still alive, probably. You’re welcome for that too, by the way”, Grids calls from the back of the throne room, cheekily.

“Alright”, says Kenobi, loudly. There’s color back in his deathly-pale cheeks, Fox notes, even if that color is a lot of red. It doesn’t fade very gracefully into his beard. “Opinions on whether or not I had everything under control notwithstanding -“

“You really didn’t”, Hound supplies helpfully.

“ - opinions notwithstanding, I am admittedly still lost on why you’re now sitting on Darth Maul and attempting to, to - jeer at him, Marshall Commander!”

“We’re not jeering, we’re trying to create a safe space and lay the groundwork for more open communication”, Fox says, primly.

Maul screams into the ground, attempting for the umpteenth time to rear up and visit great violence upon Fox, which admittedly has him rattling in his crosslegged seat atop his back.

Kenobi raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Safe space?”

“He’s restrained and not stabbing anyone, I personally feel much safer than before”, Grids muses. “Watch the teeth though, Hound. Little biter.”

Indeed. Fox’s right greave will have to be replaced posthaste.

“And anyways, the point isn’t to jeer at him, it’s to make clear that he’s focusing his energy in the wrong places and could be doing much better things with his admittedly not-great life”, Fox adds, shifting to cast a pointed look down at Maul. The Sith is panting open-mouthed into the durasteel floor, sharp teeth gnashing wildly as his piercing yellow eyes shine with barely restrained rage. “I’m just saying - aim higher. You aren’t seeing the forest for the Kenobis, Maul. Can I call you Maul?”

“I will feed you your own entrails”, yowls Maul.

“See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. Right now, I’m an easy target to focus all that built-up rage on, but is killing me really going to help you achieve any of your goals? No! Think about it - when it all comes down to it, who sent you on that mission to Naboo in the first place? Who made sure the Jedi and, by extension, Kenobi would be there to kill you? Who used you as a dejarik piece and then cast you aside the second you outlived your usefulness?”

Beneath him, Maul slowly stills in his struggle, still panting heavily. Hound and Nuisance don’t let it deter them in their vigilance, because they’re damn good vod’e and possess an ounce of common sense.

“And, look, I get it. I could spend the rest of my life punching every civilian who spits on me in the streets and it would even be satisfying. I could hit back the Senators who think of clones as easy targets. Or - I can aim my sights at who’s on top. And I think you know who I mean, because you know as well as I do the same damn man has ruined both our lives.”

Kenobi makes an alarmed noise, and Maul an interested one - not that Fox is going to let him walk out of this place awake. Still, he tilts his head in a way he hopes conveys his helmeted grin successfully to non-vod, as well as the bloodlust behind it. “You’re also welcome for the fact that the Chancellor won’t have heard of your spontaneous resurrection yet, by the way. You’ll retain your element of surprise instead of gambling it away on petty revenge on Kenobi.”

“He cut me in half!”

“He killed my master!”

Fox waves their protests away.

“Also, that’s treason!”, Kenobi adds, sputtering. Fox grins. Kenobi purses his lips, and continues. petulantly, “…do you have any proof?”

“So. Much. Proof”, says Nuisance, dreamily. “Like, do you want it alphabetically or by date?”

Which is when the Duchess, of all people, bursts out into barking, crazed laughter.

“You - you’ve certainly given yourself an edge in that fight, Marshall Commander”, she wheezes, brushing tears from her eyes. Fox raises his eyebrows at her, which she somehow seems to be able to tell, because she gestures at the clunky handle dangling from his belt.

“What, this old thing?” He unclasps the black rectangle from its hook, holding it up in the air. Maul stills strangely beneath him, and Kenobi goes ghostly pale again. Fox is starting to get a bad feeling.

“I took it off Viszla and beat him over the head with it. I figured he’d taken it off a Jedi cadet or something. What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

[astralmagpie]

Concept: one of the companions chilling with Halsin in bear form just chatting about nonsense

then Halsin walks over

[territorial-utopia]

Huzzah! It's birthday time! I'm slowly accumulating more and more things I like (latest additions this vest I made and a travel typewriter! Still need to fix the latter one though)

Sure has been a year.

[hellolulu]

Damian + Jon: [playing Minecraft]

Dami: I've secured us some suitable living conditions. We will be safe from enemies now.

Jon: nice oneeeee now help me mine for iron plz you need armor so bad noob

Dami: don't call me that. I've killed people in real life.

Jon: ya ok noob

Dami: 😡😡

(some time later, when they return to the house) (to paint the scene: it is small, square in shape, and it's obvious Damian had no idea how to build a proper house, since a lot of it is made with dirt, which is a very convenient block but makes for an ugly.. ugly build)

Jon: aren't you like.. into art? Why did you build it with dirt??

Dami: it's about functionality right now, for safety. Tomorrow I will begin renovations. Obviously.

Jon: right..

[they enter the house. There is a chest, a crafting table, a furnace, and a double-bed at the side of the room]

Jon: omg... you put our beds together?? Omg I knew you loved me 😭😭😭😭 woooow 😭😭😭😭

Damian: [immediately breaks one of the beds to move it away to the other wall] now you've made it weird. It was for convenience.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 84

Amity Park absolutely adores her little ghostling, her little Gatekeeper who was of her own ectoplasm, reborn from her own blood in the center of her new heart. She absolutely adores her baby, practically a newborn, being only a year dead! 

So of course she had to gush and boast about her little phantom to the other city spirits! They all got together to gossip sometimes after all. And both Smallville and Fawcett started to gush about their own little ones back! 

Gosh they should set up a playdate at some point, her little phantom could use some friends in the mortal realm. Well some more friends, three is obviously not enough. Oh, Gotham and Bludhaven have come over as well! It’s a playdate then! 

Now if only each of their world’s timelines were synced up, but at least everyone is around the same age! 

[egophiliac]

I was really in the mood to do some masquerade fanart, but I didn’t feel like coming up with anything original, so here’s some of my favorite (...slightly paraphrased) bits from the first part. I don’t know where it’s going, but it’s pretty fun so far!

also one that isn’t canon except in my heart:

(disclaimer that this is a Joke)

(he is a horrible little rat man, but to be fair, so is everyone else)

(if you don’t like horrible little rat men why are you even playing this game)

[turtleblogatlast]

“Haven’t You Noticed (I’m a Star)” from Steven Universe works so ridiculously well for Leo

[jackslocket]

IL PREDESTINATO VINCE.

(inspired by @scdria's super awesome monaco poster)

[mblue-art]

late halloweeen dooodleee

[noxious-fennec]

Hard sell

[idlenight-art]

Sure, Sylas 'the Dark Urge' Morte is officially the party leader. But every choice will be passed by his boyfriend first, just to be sure.

[blu3b3rryj4mp1r3]

(I didn't know what to do with the colouring and background- this is what happens when i don't know what to do with the colouring and background ( • ⌄ • ) anyways they're like at the mall or something