#im so fucking frustrated

[peachypede]

It’s come to my attention that the Poppy Playtime fandom has a huge art stealing problem. There are writing blogs that are stealing people’s art and posting their headcanons/writing under them.

I’m here to tell you that you need to always, ALWAYS ask permission from an artist to use their work.

It’s very rude to use art that isn’t yours without permission. It doesn’t matter if you have a disclaimer that the art isn’t yours or if you have a post telling artists to politely ask for their art not to be on your post. It’s YOUR responsibility to ask for permission first and to respect their answer. It’s not the artist’s job to hunt you down and ask you nicely to stop.

[carmenlire]

had 18 mental breakdowns before I got to the park and I don't even wanna do anything now and I feel so gross and like I could start crying at any moment lol

[cherrysnax]

the fear of being absolutely incomprehensible is a big one

[inniave]

i swear to god if i get covid from fucking surgery i am going to kill someone

[forcefemd]

lol tumblr censored the lorenza bottner photo that i posted even though it says artistic nudity is allowed on the site. i wonder why tumblr specifically finds transfeminine bodies sexual and needing to be censored. the algorithms and ai in place that create systems like this need to be destroyed.

[all-hail-makishima]

feeling utterly robbed cuz of injoo-doil airport farawell scene. why is it so hard just to give her a hug/head pat??? goddamned it, i didn’t even wish for a kiss. have to keep telling myself at least he’s smiling this wide for her to keep myself composed this whole day.

or perhaps he’s away preparing somethng for both of them idk at this moment i feel like im clowning

[notisland]

i hate doing subtitles i literally have no fucking idea how to format them why do i like this

[autisticarachnid]

iphone storage is the worst fucking thing on the planet and i literally fucking hate this so goddamn much. also fuck icloud i also fucking hate icloud because now not only is my phone convinced that some of MY PHOTOS are icloud photos, it is at the same time convinced EVERY SINGLE ICLOUD PHOTO IS MINE. AND MY STORAGE WENT UP FIFTEEN FUCKING GIGABITES AFTER I DELETED TWO THOUSAND PHOTOS. WHAT THE FUCK

[muffinrag]

Why is being miserable the only thing that feels real. Why is happiness a rare treat and a deviation from the norm. Why is it that whenever I get to be happy my brain tries to convince me that I don't deserve it and that I'm a waste of space and a burden and an embarrassment

[kitwilsonsass]

Good news, nothing abnormal on the CT (aside from a random air pocket on my lung?)

Bad news, nothing abnormal on my CT.

Haven't heard back from doc on it yet but I assume it's now either back to BIG SHRUG or an internal ultrasound because they didn't look at that stuff at all.

The GI messaged me finally about the labs from a couple weeks ago and wants me to get another scope done and wants to know how I feel about it and like??? Honestly it's a struggle of... I want answers but you never find anything. Also it's only elevated a FEW POINTS which from what I've read can be from the medication I take so like??? Bah.

[wintershub]

Ya'll I might just rage quit another job

[invelvettwine]

.

[calamitouscynic]

what if I just kill myself (scream in an empty field for a Really Long Time) instead. what then.

[seraphimsinful]

I just know this will stick with me too. All night n day n night n day.

[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.

[honeybee-deepsea-kitty]

Just so everyone is aware I don't want to do today anymore. The rest of the day is cancelled I'm done.