#did you catch that?

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Did you catch the secret hidden message in .Dead asleeP.??

Why, Why, Why, Please, He's Sorry, So Sorry, So Sorry...

@shr00mi3writefight @that-0n3-shr00mi3

[chloesimaginationthings]

William Afton winning that “idgaf” award in FNAF

[keets-writing-corner]

Thinking a LOT about Lucifer in the latest Hazbin episode. Idk what I was expecting but not this??

As I was watching my immediate thought was just "huh... Lucifer is kinda of weird..." but as the episode went on I realized the issue

the dude is off the chain depressed, like he says it as a joke but holy cow it is SO BAD

He's manically just creating rubber ducks cuz his daughter really like it that one time but it's empty, it's never good enough but he keeps doing it, maybe cuz he doesn't know how to pass the time otherwise.

like I get the feeling he HAS better things he SHOULD be doing than making rubber duck after rubber duck. At first I was like, "Bruh why isn't the king of hell doing anything?" aaaaand then it became clear...

The dude is disassociating so bad he can barely hold a conversation let alone remember information. He clearly WANTS to, he wants to be involved with his daughter so bad, he wants to care about the things she's doing so bad, but his depression keeps interfering. It's like he can only hear every other word and he grasps onto the ones he does hear semi-out of context. Like you can see every time he catches something that he hadn't before and he just "well shit I didn't catch that part"

and that's why he reacts so weird when people talk to him. He is struggling so bad to engage with the conversation he's only getting 50% of it

does that look like the face of a man who knows what the hell the conversation is even about??? he is STRUGGLING

like Charlie spent so long telling him about the hotel, and he STILL didn't understand what she wanted. Yeah it comes off as ditzy but literally I've been in that position where your brain just "nope, not doing this right now" and nerfs your conversation comprehension. So as someone who's BEEN in that position, to me it feels exactly like what he's dealing with. He's sorta engaged with the conversation, but only as much as his brain will allow

For example, when I'm dealing with this, this is what someone talking to me feels like this where the crossed out parts are what I missed and bold is what I catch, "Hey! You know I was thinking for dinner we could either make some chicken with rice? But if you don't feel like cooking, pasta is super easy and you love that right? What do you want to do?" you can kinda get that someone is trying to talk to you about dinner, and towards the end you get the impression that they asked something that needs your input so you can decently put 2 and 2 together and try and pass off, but crucial bits were left out, I would have no idea that either chicken or pasta is in the conversation only having heard "rice". When someone is just talking at me, I can decently pass off as being engaged but the second I'm required to participate in the conversation I'm screwed. Seem familiar? At which point I have 2 options, try to give a bullshit answer, or admit that I missed what they were saying and ask them to repeat

Lucifer, unfortunately, is trying so damn hard to hide that he's dealing with like 24/7 dissociation, so he can't admit that he's missing entire chunks of the conversation, hence his really weird replies. He does eventually get the full picture and then he and Charlie start having the real conversation

Also, the Alastor/Lucifer rivalry was hilarious but also really indicative of more of what Lucifer is dealing with

Alastor is, unfortunately, really good at picking up people's insecurities, and thanks to Charlie's description earlier and watching Lucifer clearly trying to overcompensate, he immediately picks up on the fact that Lucifer KNOWS he struggles to be a good dad (we know cuz it's cuz of the depression, hard to be engaged when your brain keeps turning off) and decides to rub salt in the wound by pretending he's been acting as a surrogate father to Charlie. Now why Alastor decided to pick a fight with the king of hell is beyond me, I do not understand Alastor (and I LIKE IT) (maybe it's cuz Alastor thinks he's hot shit and was expecting Lucifer to at least have heard of him but Lucifer just treats him like a nobody? who knows)(why would Lucifer listen to radio anyways when he can't even pay attention to a conversation it'd just be white noise)

But yeah I just was expecting someone who oozed either charisma or presence and instead I got a depressed dad who's dissociating so bad he can barely function and be present in his life. The only thing it seems he CAN do is make rubber ducks cuz his daughter really liked it that one time

Idk Lucifer is tragic to me. Whatever the full details of what heavan did to him absolutely broke him and he can't deal with it. He's aware of it, and he doesn't know how to fix it, so he tries to over compensate and sorta makes an ass out of himself but no one says or does anything cuz this guy is supposed to be THE king of hell

Suddenly it's making a lot more sense why he just rolls over and lets heaven do what it wants and even told Charlie to go in his place the start of the show. He's not in any headspace to hold a basic conversation let alone negotiate! He didn't even know who Alastor was, he's been so out of touch

idk I like him, he seems sweet, I hope Charlie brings some light back into his life. He really needs to get out of that rubber duck room

[fanaticalthings]

just another night in gotham

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[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.

[midnightenigmados]

Unintentionally Mysterious Danny

No one in the Justice League/Wayne Industries seems to know much about their colleague Danny Fenton. Every time he opens his mouth, he tends to leave everyone in the vicinity with more questions than answers. That is, until they were put on lockdown.

[sevinite]

beloved witch girlies

[mobroccoli]

Post canon terumob in Classic anime rom com

I finally decided to post it on tumblr after all these years (?)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

A procession of confessions.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[genesisguidline]

comic#1 of my malevolent p.i au

a domestic sketch #1 if you want something less violent

comic#2(john gets a present)

comicstrip#1(client pov)

this is basically my first try to make a comic so don’t judge me. i did my best 🤷‍♂️

[phoebepheebsphibs]

@boots-with-the-fur-club let's take some time to enjoy the easter eggs in this shot, shall we??

A poster for the Krabby Patty with a picture of Plankton asking "What's the formula?"

A flyer for Señor Hueso's Run-of-the-mill pizza

A poster of Bill Cipher with a bunch of Doritos because I be a silly

A poster that just says "HOT SOUP"

A poster that says "Mickey D's" and has a crudely drawn clown with a burger and fries

A picture of Grimace from Mickey D's

A crossed-out sign for turtle soup

A sign directly underneath that says "DON'T EAT THE SOUP"

A flyer for a TedTalk with the Hand.PNG

As well as

A sign for "Water... drink it. Now."

And "Food... it's so good!"

[erinwantstowrite]

i finished writing chapter 14 so no one needs to spray me with water to get me to focus (we just have to wait for my beta to wake up and double check that it's good)

so have some timkon sillies in the meantime!!!

[ghostbsuter]

"I can see dead people." He mentions with a shrug, using the chopsticks to fish more noodles into his mouth.

Dick stares at him. "Huh."

"Is that why you help?" He asks, getting more spring rolls.

"Yeah. Once someone becomes a ghost, word gets out quick, and they come to me. Always tatling about unfairness and justice." The kid waves the words around, rolling his eyes.

Dick just pretens to he uninterested, despite his mind racing at the new info. He is piecing past moments together, every shadow leaping away, every note with tips, leads and—

Huh.

"Do you... like it? Doing all that?" Richard approaches thus carefully, brows furrowed at the kid opposite of him.

Danny moves his head, giving a 'so-so' answer. "It's not much to like, I can see ghosts, and they know it and use it. If it brings them to peace or whatever– well, that's just a plus."

Dick stares. He places his chopsticks down and looks at Danny worried.

In turn, the kid sighs. "Sometimes gifts become curses the longer you have it."

And Dick understands.

Mind made up, he throws a pair of keys at the kid, watching fondly as the other catches them with confusion.

"Next time use these, instead of entering through the window."

Danny mock-salutes with a shit eating grin. "Yes, Officer grayson."

[kittykatninja321]

My less popular opinion (and what I believe to be implied by the art in Lost Days) is that rather than waking up in a fully grown body Jason didn’t actually complete his puberty until after his Lazarus pit dip while he was on his murder tour. Imagine you’re tied up in a basement in Berlin getting interrogated by a teenager and his voice is cracking the entire time and if you laugh he’s going to shoot you

[mingyuskim]

MINGYU Eyes on you, 2024

[hedgehog-moss]

I say this with genuine care for you and all your creatures: You gotta get a real fence. One of these days someone is going to get out and it’s not going to end well. You do not want that kind of guilt on your conscience and you definitely do not want to deal with the kind of assholes on this site who will spend every day reminding you of it.

I do have a real fence! I spent 2 years building it. It was a big investment of time and money; people who've followed me for a while will remember what a long and gruelling process it was. It involves 2-metre posts, wood crossbars at the top and bottom, and solid wire netting which I spent hours and hours tying to the crossbars every 10cm (for hundreds of metres of fence!) so Pampe has absolutely no room to fit her head anywhere.

It's a marvel of modern engineering and Pampe has never managed to jump over it or break it on her own, but sometimes things happen to fences—last time it was a boar that ran through the netting, today it was a large branch that fell on a crossbar and broke it. I actually went to investigate before dinner to see what was wrong and if I could patch it up quickly tonight and repair it tomorrow.* I usually check the fence for damage after a storm but there was no storm this week, just some wind...

When Pampe gets out it's not because nothing is done to keep her in her pasture but because my fence is not made of pure titanium and Pampe is always quicker than me to detect any damage. She escaped twice this year, one time because of the boar hole, and once via a gap in the still-incomplete living fence I'm trying to grow, but then I made a better temporary fence in this area and she didn't get out again. I think the last time she got out before that was when I let the llamas graze in my neighbour's pasture (with his permission) for an afternoon, and his fence isn't Pampe-proof so it was a game of constant vigilance, which I lost. If I sound breezy when I write a Pampe escape post it's because I know she doesn't go very far, she goes for a stroll in my woods then comes back. The road near my house is a small road between villages where cows frequently wander about—you're much more likely to run into a cow than into my llama!

* Morille accompanied me when I went to inspect the fence earlier and had a wonderful time with the string I was trailing behind me :)