#but still. here take this thing

[finneyblakes]

hey

[egophiliac]

buckle up lads we're going BACK INTO THE BOOK

[joshuamj]

Okay, but what if EoW!Zelda had to impersonate Link

[coddda]

I wish we could have met in some other way.

Lawlight Week Day 2: Soulmates

If you saw me repost and re-edit this several times uh No you didn't </3

Still frames/Individual gifs:

If you know what every frame is from you get a free cookie. by the way

[ruporas]

trigunned the hades or hadesed the trigun (id in alt)

[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.

[lucabyte]

On autonomy, and what it means to be Obliged to Help.

Bonus:

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Council of lovefools.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[reasonsforhope]

People ask me sometimes how I'm so confident that we can beat climate change.

There are a lot of reasons, but here's a major one: it would take a really, really long time for Earth to genuinely become uninhabitable for humans.

Humans have, throughout history, carved out a living for themselves in some of the most harsh, uninhabitable corners of the world. The Arctic Circle. The Sahara. The peaks of the Himalayas. The densest, most tropical regions of the Amazon Rainforest. The Australian Outback. etc. etc.

Frankly, if there had been a land bridge to Antarctica, I'm pretty sure we would have been living there for thousands of years, too. And in fact, there are humans living in Antarctica now, albeit not permanently.

And now, we're not even facing down apocalypse, anymore. Here's a 2022 quote from the author of The Uninhabitable Earth, David Wallace-Wells, a leader on climate change and the furthest thing from a climate optimist:

"The most terrifying predictions [have been] made improbable by decarbonization and the most hopeful ones practically foreclosed by tragic delay. The window of possible climate futures is narrowing, and as a result, we are getting a clearer sense of what’s to come: a new world, full of disruption but also billions of people, well past climate normal and yet mercifully short of true climate apocalypse. Over the last several months, I’ve had dozens of conversations — with climate scientists and economists and policymakers, advocates and activists and novelists and philosophers — about that new world and the ways we might conceptualize it. Perhaps the most capacious and galvanizing account is one I heard from Kate Marvel of NASA, a lead chapter author on the fifth National Climate Assessment: “The world will be what we make it.”" -David Wallace-Wells for the New York Times, October 26, 2022

If we can adapt to some of the harshest climates on the planet - if we could adapt to them thousands of years ago, without any hint of modern technology - then I have every faith that we can adjust to the world that is coming.

What matters now is how fast we can change, because there is a wide, wide gap between "climate apocalypse" and "no harm done." We've already passed no harm done; the climate disasters are here, and they've been here. People have died from climate disasters already, especially in the Global South, and that will keep happening.

But as long as we stay alive - as long as we keep each other alive - we will have centuries to fix the effects of climate change, as much as we possibly can.

And looking at how far we've come in the past two decades alone - in the past five years alone - I genuinely think it is inevitable that we will overcome climate change.

So, we're going to survive climate change, as a species.

What matters now is making sure that every possible individual human survives climate change as well.

What matters now is cutting emissions and reinventing the world as quickly as we possibly can.

What matters now is saving every life and livelihood and way of life that we possibly can.

[fisherrprince]

Instead of writing a fanfic like a normal person this oneshot turned into two separate, contextless things,

[spielzeugkaiser]

One thing I've been asked a few times: Did the mountain happen for bear!Jaskier?

It did, but Jaskier stood his ground! And not with 'Burn Butcher, burn' afterwards.

[acornered]

I've never really self-identifed as butch because my style sensibility leans more toward effeminate gay man/eccentric grandparent but while my girlfriend was visiting, the clasps that held the shoulder strap of her handbag kept breaking (thanks temu), and finally I got fed up and fixed it by

a) wrenching off the old clasps with a pair of plyers and

b) replacing them with the only clasps I had on hand, which were 2 giant carabiners

and yeah, now that I think about it, that is incredibly butch lesbian behavior.

[atthebell]

bisexuality comes for all minecraft youtubers

[read my tags before getting pissy with me]

[anewp0tat0]

i lied i had like atleast one more weston thought to expell from my brain, before i miss this boat entirely. we're heading to green lands woooo

[livwritesstuff]

Not a steddie!dads post believe it or not, but I was thinking about how S1-Steve conks the fuck out after sleeping w/Nancy (which was.......an interesting choice imo) but it got me thinking about what would happen if the same thing happened with Eddie.

Like, all the Upside Down shit is done and they're all healed up and, after pining for each other for ages, Steve and Eddie finally hook up.

It definitely wasn't a gooey, sappy, romantic love confession type of situation, more like the natural culmination of several agonizing months of sexual tension and trying to feel out what the other might be thinking and a pretty aggressive campaign of flirting on Eddie's part that he's certain Steve was matching him on toe-to-toe for at least most of and being badgered by their friends to pull their respective heads out of their respective asses — a glorified hook-up, really.

Yeah, there might have been an undercurrent of more in the way Steve had threaded their fingers together and the way he'd looked at him with those gorgeous hazel eyes of his and the way he'd kissed him like it fucking meant something, but there hadn't been a lot of words.

Eddie's a words kind of guy, believe it or not, and he'd really like to be looped into whatever the hell is going on inside Steve's perplexing brain, thanks, but no.

Instead, afterwards Steve had pulled Eddie into his arms, twined them tight around his waist and tangled their legs together and tucked his face into the curve of Eddie's shoulder, and that was...new, but in a matter of minutes he'd started softly snoring, and that — dozing off after a hook-up so the other can make a discreet exit — is a move Eddie knows intimately, not that knowing it makes it sting any less, because Eddie had thought Steve might be more, that this thing roiling beneath the surface of their friendship could be more than just a one-time thing.

It's actually kind of fucking horseshit, actually, that Steve is expecting Eddie to just leave like this had been nothing more than a chance to get laid, because Eddie knows it's more than that — not because he has good self-esteem or whatever, but because it's so obviously more than that.

The whole thing actually kind of bothers Eddie, and he's always been a petulant shit about things that bother him and he'd never cared too much about doing what he's "supposed to", or whatever, so...fuck it. He's tired and this rich-people mattress is way more comfortable than anything Eddie had slept on before, and Steve needs to grow a pair and face the music of this shit in the morning.

So instead of sliding out of Steve's grip like everyone who came before him, Eddie settles in and forces himself to fall asleep too.

[x-v4mp3y3lin3r-x]

reminder that if you're a Florida voter you've got a responsibility to go out and vote in November because the state constitutional amendments we're voting on are the right to abortion, legalizing marijuana for over 21s, keeping school district elections nonpartisan, free-for-all hunting and fishing, and a few other things.