i think i mentioned it to you once but i want to say again how much i love these nuances of lucy — she's drowning. maybe… literally. the same time that the love she feels for kate is her lifeboat vest it is also the strange, chaotic and frightening immensity of an ocean. ironically, kate and the sea are two things that, at that moment and according to your fic, lucy is afraid of. it's beautiful.. fuck, it's all beautiful. painful, yes, but painfully beautiful. god pls! :( i don't want to think about your fic ending hahahaha BUT i am soooo here for whatever you write and missed moments or interludes will be welcome and i'll love to read.
You have absolutely hit the nail on the head. Home run. Slam dunk. Touchdown. Whatever other sports analogies there are because that’s all I’ve got!
Lucy is very very much drowning in her feelings, because she doesn’t know how to process them. All she could focus on at the hospital was the relief that Kate was alive, and every time she stepped into that room it was a reminder of how close she had come to losing her—pair that with their last disastrous interaction right before Kate ended up getting shot and that’s a lot of guilty/fear/worry/pain/love mixed together. Kind of hard for the anger to truly surface in that situation, and then you add in that Kate got hurt saving a little boy and it just magnifies everything.
But Kate’s not in the hospital anymore. And Holden is gone.
There’s no more distractions from the anger/pain/heartache, and adding in a trigger—more on that in upcoming chapters—Lucy is essentially a ticking time bomb of repressed feelings. Those emotions can only be shoved down for so long.
As for FTAHT’s ending, if I stick to my plot line—which I’m doing really good about so far!—we’re like... maybe a third of the way there? Maybe a little bit more than that? Not quite halfway. There is still plenty coming, and honestly with how much support it’s gotten (seriously, I’ve been absolutely overwhelmed with the love, it’s like the biggest motivator in the world so thank you guys so so much), I’m definitely going to open up prompts for it when the main fic is finished. I don’t see it “ending” for quite a while!
I don't want to post it because the person was trying to be mean, and I don't want them getting dog piled, but telling me I have "the most Tumblr accent in your writing" is so fucking funny because worstie, of course, I have a Tumblr accent. I've been here since the beginning.
I'm not trapped in here with you, you're trapped in here with me.
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.
Fig: Hah! - Nobody ever expects an Archdevil rockstar to be nice.
Riz: … yeah. - 's just budget work tho. (the stuff I'm working on) - I've heard it's boring.
page 05
Fig: yeah, but you do it…
Riz: It keeps things going, right? - Nothing happens if nobody sits down and - does the thing.
Fig: That's right… - though. Yeah.
page 06
Fig: sometimes it's someone else who - doesn't want the same thing to happen.
Riz: … - mm.
page 07
Riz (off screen): …It took me a long time to get that not everyone likes doing what I do. - 's probably because you guys are so nice– - or. - kind.
Riz (off screen): to anyone too, not just. - the people you /love/.
page 08
Riz: that's not how it is elsewhere. - The world's– not. hostile. - but 's not like it's kind.
Riz: So I'm doing as much as I can now…
page 09
Fig: Hey.
Riz: ?
Fig: Go dig some dirt with me.
page 10
Riz: [blank speech bubble] - oh you meant like - actual dirt. (not incriminating information)
Fig: o yea.
Fig: there's clay in the backyard soil. - sometimes when I'm sun deficient or something I go touch dirt for a bit.
page 11
Fig: here u go
page 12
Riz: uh
Fig: now we make a thing! - 'm pretty good at freehanding a bowl.
Fig: I'll show u
page 13
Fig: just– yep, flatten that out as evenly as u can, then–! - actually ur nails'd be so good at cutting out the strip. [larger than usual space] wait. - wait. wait u can carve patterns with them! we HAVE to try
Riz: uh - What. do I carve?
Fig: anything!!!
page 14
Fig: and– yep just seal the inside uh. seam?
Fig: yep that works - okay time's up! all contestant hands up
The penultimate part of my story, The House of Glass. Tintin's investigation hits a wall. Follows directly from this!
If you're enjoying this comic, please consider donating to Eyad, he is a father of four trying to evacuate his family from the Gaza strip. His wife Amal, and their kids, Sami (11), Mohammad (9), Sarah (7) and Saad (5) are currently in a displacement school in the Zaytoun area. Eyad has been separated from his family, and is currently living in a tent in the Dier al-Balah area.
structuring this page was kicking my ass, but i grabbed it by the neck and throttled it into submission with the power of hot women. you're welcome.
Page 4/?
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reblogs are appreciated!! thank you so much everyone for following along and supporting! when y'all reblog, comment, and leave nice tags it makes my day ;u;
are there any fan works that have made you rethink one of your own characters?
no lol. however allow me to go on a tangent for a minute.
i have been on tumblr for a very long time. i have been in fandoms. i have made my fanworks. ive seen Stuff. so i know how people react to fandoms and characters they love. which is (and i mean this with no judgment! and even love!!!): fans add their own flavor to the characters, sometimes enhancing them, but also, sometimes, making the character. completely. unrecognizable
again, no judgment!!!!! ive done it myself!!! often!!!! all the time!!!! you can search for it here on my tumblr!!!! i've done it and i love doing it!!!! hashtag my blorbo now!!!! HOWEVER. when i was making ISAT, i did not think it would blow up like this. but i am someone who prepares for every eventuality, so i did think ok. well. what if it does blow up like this. and people. make. my little guys. from my heart. my bosom. absolutely. unrecognizable
all this to say that if you're making a project that could become Tumblrized(affectionate), or even any kind of project: i highly recommend writing down what your characters mean to you. why you made them like this. what made you go down this route. why did you make this project in the first place. what does this Mean To You And You Alone. so that if your character becomes Unrecognizable. you can still remember what you put in them first. and people can Tumblrize to their hearts content and you can be happy and the people can be happy and we can all hold hands having a different version of the blorbo in our brains